Love in Slow Motion

31. Reed

31 REED

I’ve just barely shot myself inside Quinn a second time before she passes out. I sit beside her on the bed, untangling what’s left of that little scrap of lingerie from around her ankle. It didn’t survive the second round.

I toss the thing to the floor and watch her sleep. She’s a mess, her hair tangled around her shoulders and her skin slick with sweat. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

When she walked in here and told me to be rough with her, to call her names, I thought I was dreaming. These kinds of things only happen to me in my fantasies. And here I am, one step closer to everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s not that I’ve always dreamed of throwing Quinn down on a bed and pulling her hair while I fucked her. I mean, sure, a good animalistic marathon fuck is always a good image. But it’s not something I ever saw myself needing from her.

But knowing that’s what she wants… That she never felt like she could tell Chase about it… That she trusted me enough to tell me… This can’t be reality.

My phone beeps with an email, right on time. I go out into the kitchen in my sweats and shut the door quietly behind me. When you’re doing business with a guy that works the night shift at a restaurant, it means business at all hours.

I pull up the email my guy sent me just as he video calls. I glance at the bedroom door. I don’t want to wake Quinn, so I head up the stairs and sit in the main living room with nothing but the light of the moon coming through the back windows.

When I answer, Jack is walking down the street in the dark. “Hey, man,” he says, looking beyond the phone for a second and then concentrating again. “I found a place.”

“I see that.” I’ve pulled up the listing for a storefront that he sent me. “I think it looks great. Where’s it at?”

“Freedom and Hanover. On the opposite block from that café with the really good arugula salad.”

This is how we communicate, in menu items. “I like that corner. It’s busy though. Should we go for something quieter?”

On the screen, Jack blinks at me. “Reed, you’re really throwing me for a loop here. First you want a restaurant downtown, someplace so upscale that you’re in the running for a Michelin star, and now you want, what, a bakery in the suburbs?”

I think about what Quinn told me, that I should give people a chance to try my food that aren’t rich. It makes sense. I know that Quinn didn’t come from money. And now she’s back to not having any money. She can’t respect a lifestyle that can disappear so quickly. And she’s right. What about the people who can’t pay fifty dollars for a plate of calamari the width of a tennis ball?

“I just think it’s time to try something new,” I tell Jack. “I think it’s worth looking into every avenue. Isn’t that what it means to be good at business?”

His jaw tightens and he levels me with an exasperated look. “If you want to be good at business, open a restaurant that will pay your bills.”

“A dessert house in Boston will pay the bills.” An idea occurs to me and my eyes slide back down the hallway, to the stairs that lead down to Quinn. “And actually, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to look at places outside of Boston. What about Chicago? Or New York?”

If I asked Quinn to leave Boston with me, would she? Hell, if I asked her to leave this lake house with me, would she? How attached is she to her life in Boston? What if I could sweep her away to someplace new, someplace that doesn’t have Chase written all over every surface? Am I insane for even considering it?

All I know is that the life I’ve always wanted is within my grasp. If I could have a place to make desserts and Quinn on my arm, I would never ask God for anything else ever again. There’s no improving on perfection.

“Chicago?” Jack screeches, and I quickly turn down the volume on my phone. “New York? Are you kidding? You are not leaving Boston.”

I shrug. “Maybe it’s time for a new life.”

Jack sighs. “Alright. I’ll look at other places, but New York is going to be expensive. Might as well check out Seattle while we're at it." He rolls his eyes. “I’ll get back to you in a few days. But hey,” he says, his voice serious now, “the investors aren’t going to be happy with the building downgrade, especially if you’re thinking of leaving Boston.”

That, I did think about. I didn’t come to the lake house for the money, like I told Quinn. The money for a new place was basically already in the bag with all the investors I contacted. But if they start to pull out, my mother’s money could definitely be useful, even if a small bakery outside of the city would cost me far less than a restaurant.

“I’ve got this figured out,” I tell him, feeling rather smug. I hang up with him and go back downstairs. I stand in the doorway of the bedroom and watch Quinn sleep, naked except for the blanket pulled up around her body.

We were meant to be. I just need her to remember.