Love in Slow Motion

48. Reed

48 REED

When the fireworks are over, the music gets louder. My mother isn’t exactly the party hard type, but a lot of the people in the house are closer to our age than hers, so when the older guests start to filter out, what’s left is a bunch of horny twenty and thirty-somethings with a lot of champagne in them.

I lean against the kitchen island as pop music plays loudly through the speakers and watch several groups of people in their formal attire dance in the sunken pit that is the living room, including Quinn and Sabrina, who are laughing and dancing with each other. A man steps close, trying to get Sabrina to dance with him, and she turns her back, giving Quinn her full attention.

And Quinn.

Jesus.

She’s so sexy, twisting her hips to the beat, the ends of her hair starting to curl from the sweat. I can’t wait until this thing is over, and I can find someplace quiet to put my mouth between her legs.

I feel warm. Content.

I feel like, later tonight, when I ask Quinn to be mine when we leave here, she’ll say yes. I don’t know if she was going to tell me she loved me out there on the dock, but I see it in her eyes every time she looks at me. She’s mine.

Chase appears out of nowhere, bumping into my side and grinning into a half-empty glass of clear alcohol. “Great party, huh?”

I look over at him, already annoyed at his existence. “How many have you had?”

He’s got a piece of ice in his mouth; he speaks around it. “Not that many.” He swallows. “I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re thinking. I actually…” He trails off and looks down into his glass, like he’s trying to decide what to say next. “I think I’m going to try to get her back.”

When I just stare at him, he nods toward the dance floor, and I don’t need to look to know who he’s gesturing at.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I should stay calm. I should try to be casual. But he has to be kidding, right? He can’t actually mean that.

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Because, to him, it never was. Having Quinn’s heart never amounted to much for him. “I don’t know. This week has really given us a chance to talk. We stopped doing that, you know, toward the end. And I still really feel like we could fit. I thought, you know, maybe if I asked her out or something, maybe we could find our way back to each other.”

All the calm has left my body. All that’s left is a boiling rage. “Chase, you just fucked Amina in the basement.”

He looks confused but then doesn’t ask me how I know. “Well, sure, but that’s just sex.”

Yeah. That’s what he’s been telling himself all this time. After everything, he hasn’t learned one single goddamn lesson. He wants to go back to the life he had, where he gets to be married to an amazing woman while he fucks every other woman in Boston. He never has to owe Quinn anything. Affection, time, energy, love. He can just use her up and toss her aside.

“That’s not gonna happen.”

A crease appears between his eyebrows. “You don’t think she’d take me back?”

No, I don’t think she’d take him back, but that doesn’t matter because he’s never going to have the chance to try to convince her to. “It’s not going to happen because Quinn is mine.”

For a moment, I watch as his face stays the same picture of confusion, and then the crease disappears, and anger takes its place in his eyes. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

I set my glass on the bar beside me, feeling fire burn in my chest. “I said, she’s mine . She might have been yours once, but you fucked it up, and now she belongs to me, and I’ll be damned if you’ll ever lay a finger on her again.”

Chase is quiet for a long stretch of time, our eyes locked in a battle of wills, here in the middle of this loud party, with everyone around us none the wiser. He takes the smallest step toward me. “Are you telling me you fucked my wife?”

“She’s not your wife.”

The party is still moving around us, the music still blasting, the guests still dancing. But Chase seems to go still from his head to his toes. His eyes glance back at the dance floor, and whatever dopey optimism was there a moment ago has burned away.

“Fucking bitch ,” he hisses.

I don’t remember moving. I don’t remember barreling into my brother or how we end up on the floor. I don’t remember how many times I punch him before he punches back, before the two of us start kicking and punching and shoving. We end up on our feet again, and then, somehow, we smash into a cocktail table full of champagne glasses.

“Reed!” I hear her voice, not really sure if it’s real or somewhere in my mind. It’s like she’s shouting to me through a tunnel, but I can’t get to her. When I turn my head to find her, Chase uses the opportunity to sock me in the eye.

And then two big arms are wrapping around me, pulling me up and off my brother. I don’t even know whose arms they are, but whoever it is, they’re strong enough to lift me. When I’ve got my feet under me, it’s like the rest of the world has gone dark, all except Chase, pushing up to his feet, panting.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he growls at me.

“Call her a bitch again and fucking find out.”

He wipes away a string of blood pooling out of his lower lip. “I can call her whatever I want. She’s my wife.”

I fight against the hands holding me, but they’re gripping me hard, so hard I’m afraid they’re going to snap something. “She’s not your fucking wife.”

The whole world stops moving. My vision opens up, and I begin to process just how many people there are in the room, just how many people heard those words. Exactly what I’ve done .

From somewhere behind me, a small voice says, “What?”

I turn and see my mother, standing in the middle of the room, her hand on her chest and her eyes on me. Her gaze shifts from me to someone beside me, and I realize Quinn is there. Her face is pale. She looks like she’s going to throw up.

She looks around the room, and I know she sees what I do. Everybody is looking. Everybody is watching. Everybody knows . But it’s like she doesn’t even see me. Her eyes are glued to my mother.

“I’m so sorry, Madison,” she whispers. And because the whole room is silent, her words seem to echo through every corner. “I never meant to cause all…this.” She looks over her shoulder at where glass and ice and champagne litter the floor. I can only imagine what a mess I look. Her eyes meet mine, and she shakes her head. The barest of movements. “I’m sorry,” she says again.

And then she runs.

She’s already halfway to the hall before my mind shakes awake. “Quinn!” I run after her, but she’s much smaller than me and trying to get through all the partygoers, standing still like they’re guarding her escape, proves impossible. By the time I make it to her room, the door is shut. I try the doorknob, but it’s locked.

“Quinn!” I bang on the door, aware now of the murmuring going on behind me. I won’t turn and look at all the people at the end of the hallway. It’s not about them. It’s not about Chase or my mother. It’s about Quinn and me. And I’m not going to let her run. “Quinn, come on, don’t do this. Talk to me.”

Somewhere in the living room, I hear my mother’s voice. “Everyone, I apologize, but I believe the party is over. If you’ll please allow our family to sort out this mess in private.”

I hear the shifting of bodies, the shuffling of feet, the front door opening. I finally turn toward the end of the hallway and see my mother standing there, outlined in the light flowing in from the living room.

“Reed, what’s happening?” She sounds like a child in the middle of a thunderstorm.

I sigh. “I?—”

Beside me, the bedroom door flies open, and Quinn stands there, the doorknob in one hand and her bag in the other. Her eyes won’t meet mine. “Excuse me,” she says, but I don’t move.

“Quinn, come on. We can figure this out.”

She makes a strange, frustrated noise and pushes past me. It’s not as if I can stop her. I’m not going to hold her hostage. But I’m not going to let her leave without a fight.

“Quinn,” I say as she stomps down the hallway.

When she gets to my mother, she chokes out, “Madison, I’m sorry. I’ll let Chase and Reed explain. Please know that I never meant to hurt anyone.”

My mother’s eyes are big and full of concern as she watches Quinn continue past her to the front door. It slams behind her, and I’m already moving down the hallway, following her out.