Love in Slow Motion

43. Reed

43 REED

Quinn doesn’t come back inside for a long time. No one really seems to have noticed, or maybe they’re trying not to notice. I try to play through my head how obvious I think that little show was. Is it clear to my mother now that Chase lied to Quinn? That he’s not the person she thinks he is? I think she’s trying not to see it.

Mom has decided now is the time to make sure everyone is properly attired for the party tonight, and she’s currently got dresses spread across both couches. Sabrina and Lydia are helping her go through them, finding little things that need to be fixed and reasons why most of them can’t be worn, all while I watch, feeling dread in my stomach.

Finally, Quinn comes back inside. She looks fine, as put together as she always does, but I know now that Quinn being put together means nothing. It’s always been fake.

Guilt whips through me. I didn’t know that she didn’t know about Chase cheating the whole time. I don’t know that I could have been the one to tell her, but I definitely could have figured out a better way for this information to come to light. Chase is such a reckless coward. I certainly didn’t know that he lied to her about New Year’s four years ago. That would have been days after her mother died, just one day after the funeral, the funeral I had flown to Minnesota to attend. I remember that day so clearly, the way Quinn had clung to Chase and the way he had stepped up to be her support system. All for him to take off and betray her.

He watches her come inside from his spot on the ground beside a pile of shoes that my mother has discarded. He’s got his knees up and his arms hanging over them. He looks lost, beat down by life and unsure how to move forward.

It makes me grind my teeth. He acts like he didn’t do all of this to his goddamn self. He makes an excuse and leaves out the back door. I see him out by the pool, his hands in his pockets like he’s contemplating life. Maybe he should contemplate what a dick he’s been.

Quinn goes into the kitchen for a bottle of water, and while everyone else is distracted, I get up and move in there with her, pretending that I need something from the fridge. I stand with my back to the room, my eyes scanning the lit shelves as Quinn leans against the counter beside me, sipping at her water.

“You okay?” I ask her under my breath.

She doesn’t look at me, just keeps her eyes forward as she says, “I don’t know anymore.”

I sigh. I want to take her in my arms. I want to kiss her and tell her that I’ll never hurt her the way he did. That she never has to hurt again. But I know it won’t undo what’s already been done. “You don’t have to stay,” I tell her. “You don’t have to keep putting yourself through this.”

She looks down at the floor, the length of her long ponytail falling across her shoulder. “I don’t have a choice. I need the money. It’s three more days. I’ll be fine.”

“Quinn, I can take care of you.”

Her eyes meet mine, all pretense of us not being in the midst of a conversation gone. “What?”

I shut the fridge and turn to her. It’s not like we’re not allowed to speak. It’s not like everyone in this house doesn’t know we’re friends and always have been. “Let me take care of you. Once I open my new restaurant?—”

“I don’t want someone to take care of me, Reed,” she whispers, her eyes wide. “I want to be able to take care of myself.”

“I know you?—”

“Reed,” Mom’s voice breaks through our conversation, and we both look over at her, all the way on the other side of the living room. “Do you know what you’re wearing tonight?”

I shrug. “I’ve got a few black t-shirts that are clean. I forgot about the party, so I didn’t pack?—”

Mom waves me off. “I knew you would forget.” She nods in Lydia’s direction, and Lydia nods back before disappearing down the hallway.

“What the hell was that?” I whisper to Quinn, and she just laughs. Which does something warm to my stomach. I feel like I haven’t heard her laugh in days.

Lydia returns with a garment bag attached to a hanger. She lays it across the barstools on the other side of the island and then looks at me. “Everything should fit, but if you wouldn’t mind trying it on, that would help. I got it at the shops, so if anything’s too small, I can replace it when I go into town today.”

She joins my mother, and I step around the island and unzip the garment bag. Inside are a black button-up and black pants, with a black belt and tie. I glance over my shoulder at my mother. She raises an eyebrow at me.

“I’m not wearing a tie,” I tell her.

She crosses her arms and gives me that Madison Lynch look. “You wear a tie at your restaurant all the time. This is a black-tie affair, which means, black tie .”

I roll my eyes and turn back to the bag, already undoing my belt with one hand as I pick up the garment bag with the other. I can take it down to the basement to change. I pull my belt off and look up when I hear Quinn make a tiny sound.

Her cheeks are flushed, her mouth hanging open and her eyes on the belt that’s dangling from my hand. Her gaze lift to mine, and everything from my waist down goes tight. I raise an eyebrow, silently asking a question that I already know the answer to. She liked seeing me whip this belt off.

Even after everything, this gorgeous girl wants me to do nasty things to her, and I want to give her what she wants. I want to make her forget about all the shit going down in this house. I want her to focus on me, and only me.

“Reed.” My mother’s voice pulls me away from Quinn again. It’s starting to sound like nails on a chalkboard.

I turn to face her, still holding my belt and the garment bag. “Yeah?”

“Don’t forget the shoes.” She points at a pair of black leather shoes sitting on the step that separates the kitchen from the living room.

“Yeah, thanks.” I reach down and use two fingers to snatch up the shoes and go down to the basement. As soon as I get down there though, I drop everything onto the floor and lean against the wall to catch my breath. Three more days. That’s all the time I have left to convince Quinn she’s mine.

But when she looks at me with those eyes, asks me to do things to her that she’s never let anyone do, it convinces me that she already knows. She already knows that we’re meant to be together. That the last five years were just a roadblock, and now it’s our turn.

I take my time trying on the outfit my mom bought me, like I’m a kid going to his first middle school dance. It looks great. I stand in the mirror in the bedroom and run my fingers through my short hair. There’s nothing to be done for it or the stubble beard that I’ve become accustomed to, but I don’t think Quinn minds. I’m not wearing the tie. Instead, I’ve got the first two buttons on the shirt undone, the belt firmly in place, the shirt tucked in just so. I even put on the shoes.

When I head back upstairs, Quinn isn’t in the kitchen anymore. She’s helping Amina and my mother sort through a stack of black dresses that all look exactly the same to me, probably searching for something that Amina can wear.

“It fits,” I say, and all of the women turn to look at me.

“Holy shit,” Amina says, and it’s almost enough to make me feel really fucking good about myself.

But when I see Quinn’s face, that’s what really does me in. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes running all the way down my body and then back up again. The blush travels across her chest, and I know I need to leave now or embarrass myself by popping a boner.

“All good?” I ask my mother, like I came up here for her approval and not for Quinn’s.

“Yes,” my mother says, her eyes on Amina.

I turn, and as I head back toward the basement, I hear Quinn say, “Madison, I’m sorry. I think you should count me out on the party shopping. I’m not feeling too great. I think I’m going to go lay down.”