Indefinite

by Corinne Michaels

  Quinn will be in Virginia Beach or wherever because it’s not like he’ll stick around, so I need to think through everything.

  My chest starts to tighten and my throat is dry. The realization hits me so hard I’m shocked I don’t fall off the chair. Holy shit. I’m going to be a single mom when I work like a maniac. How am I going to do this?

  “Do you think I’ll have to step down?” I ask her with a shake in my voice.

  “Why would you?”

  “I’ll have a kid and . . . I don’t know how I’m going to run the lab.”

  Clara moves to the chair beside me. “Things might change a bit, but it’ll be for the better. I think we work too hard and forget to live. If it weren’t for Mac, I would never leave this place. It’s important to have something to live for, not work to live for. Do you know what I mean?”

  I understand it completely. “It’s part of what was so easy with Quinn and me for a while.”

  “How so?”

  “He lived in Virginia Beach and was deployed all the time. It was easy to keep my life exactly as it was. I didn’t have to worry about him or his time because when we did see each other, it was in short bursts. Now, he has this idea that we could build a life together, but I think that scares me too. He has this twisted version of what that looks like, you know? He has the most jacked-up family life, and I don’t know that the two of us can co-parent. It’s just . . . it’s impossible. I wanted a baby, not a baby with Quinn after I let him go.”

  Or was this what I wanted somewhere in the depths of my heart all along? Last night was great and he’s being sweet and wonderful, but for how long? How do I trust him or myself?

  She nods. “It’s definitely hard, but if you love him, it will be worth it. Plus, did you ever really let him go?”

  Who the hell knows? “I thought I did.”

  “But he’s back now and, yesterday sounds like it was what you needed.”

  “We had a good day, but I’m not ready to make any decisions on what that means for us. I have more than myself to think about now.”

  Everything was so easy for us. I smiled and laughed as we walked around New York. We had lunch at this little pizza place. It was probably the best pizza I’ve ever had, too. We were walking out of Central Park, saw a sign, and ate.

  Then we walked back to my apartment, he kissed me on the cheek, and that was it.

  “Then maybe there will be more good days.”

  I release a heavy sigh. “I don’t trust us, Clara. I don’t believe that this is magically going to be a different relationship.”

  “Maybe it won’t, but will you forgive yourself if you don’t find out?”

  My heart sinks because I already know the answer. No, I never will forgive myself. A few years ago, that man stole my heart, and I’ve never actually gotten it back—no matter what lies I’ve tried to convince myself of.

  “I really hope so.”

  “Yeah.” Clara sighs. “Me too.”

  I flop on the couch, legs sprawled out, arms limp at my sides after one half of a workout, which means I walked the Brooklyn Bridge—at a leisurely pace. To be honest, I’m not exactly the workout type, but I figure if I’m about to gain a ton of weight, what I can shed now is only going to help later. Still, I’m a little tired, it’s hard to walk and talk to your friends on the phone at the same time.

  There’s a knock at the door, and I groan. I ordered McDonald’s after my trying to exercise experience, but now I have to get up to get it. Since I burned all those calories, it’s only natural that this is the best time to eat junk food.

  “You’re ear—” I stop talking because it’s not my delivery. It’s Quinn.

  “I’m what?”

  “Irritating is the first thing that comes to mind.”

  He grins because, at this point, insults are like a love language between us. “How was work?”

  “Fine . . . what are you doing here?”

  “Visiting.”

  “I guess it’s better than stalking.”

  Quinn chuckles. “Yeah. Listen, I would like it if we could have that dinner you eluded to. It’s around that time, and I’m hungry.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  Both. “Can’t. I already ordered delivery.”

  Quinn shakes his head. “Okay, I’ll do the same from wherever you ordered. We can have dinner here.”

  “Yes, we could, but I didn’t invite you.”

  He shrugs and enters without being invited. “Semantics. What did you get? And why are you all sweaty?” Quinn asks.

  The whole not liking to lie thing is pretty irritating. Quinn is the workout God. He’s in the gym every freaking day. If I tell him I’m even the slightest bit into fitness, he’ll have me on some crazy plan that no human being who likes sugar and bagels could survive.

  Not to mention, whatever rationale I have about eating fast food isn’t one he would ever support.

  Mr. Eat Clean is going to lose his top. “I worked out—kind of. Oh, and I ordered McDonald’s.” I grab my phone to open the app. “What would you like me to add on for you, pumpkin? Since you’re joining me and all.”

  His face is priceless. I can’t tell if he’s going to throw up or actually go along with it. Quinn believes his body is a temple and the only thing going inside is to further enhance his health.

  I, on the other hand, could live on fries and wine. It does help that I inherited my mother’s ability to eat anything she wants and not gain a pound. Even if that weren’t the case, I still think I would want to enjoy food.

  “I’m not really . . .”

  “Oh, but you wanted to have dinner, pookie. It would be rude for you to suddenly decide otherwise, no?”

  His eyes narrow. “You’re right, darling, what was I thinking? I’ll take a salad.”

  I make a clicking noise with my tongue. “Damn, they’re all out.”

  “Of salad?”

  I nod. “It’s a nationwide issue with lettuce. Something about Ebola.”

  “I think you mean E. coli, but sure.”

  “Same shit. They’ve got chicken nuggets, burgers, fried chicken . . .” I rattle off options.

  “Anything grilled?”

  I turn my head and smirk. “What do you think?”

  Of course they have salads and grilled chicken, but I’m not going to clue him in. “You’re trying to kill me.”

  “Yes, yes I am. It seems that might be the only way to get rid of you.”

  Quinn walks over, lazy smile playing across his lips. “Here we were, getting along, had a good day yesterday, and you have to go and say mean things.”

  Please. I know better than that. “Have I offended your delicate senses?”

  He laughs. “I’ll show you how non-delicate I am.”

  As much as that sounds like fun, my legs are still wobbly and I stink. “Slow your roll there, Ladykiller, let’s start with dinner.”

  He gives me the healthiest version of fast food he can manage while I smile. It’s definitely not what I’m ordering him, and then we head to the living room.

  “So, what did you do today?” I ask.

  “You mean since I no longer have the joy of following you around?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Well, I woke up, attempted to go for a run but my leg was acting up. I spoke with Jackson and Mark for about two hours about some ideas I had. Then I called my commanding officer and officially put my discharge paperwork in. After that, I spoke with my doctor about the pain in my leg, cleaned the apartment a little . . .”

  “Wait, wait, wait!” I say because I didn’t hear much after his call with the commander. “You put your discharge paperwork in?”

  I don’t want to hope. I wrestle with allowing that small piece of me to gather any strength because I’ve been disappointed too many times. He can’t get out of the navy. It would give me no more excuses as to why this will never work. He’ll ruin everything.

  But then . . .
he’d be out.

  “I did. Do you want to know why?” Please don’t say me. “Because I don’t want it anymore. I want to get a job where I don’t worry about bombs and stray bullets. I want to start a life where I can have a family, a wife, and kids.”

  This is too much. “Quinn . . . you say this now because I’m not falling all over you, but how will you feel in a few months? What about when you have this family and you miss the action?”

  “Do you think Jackson, Mark, Ben, or any of those don’t see action?”

  I get up and take a few steps back. Nothing is going to be any different. He’ll work for Cole Security . . . in Virginia Beach or freaking California. I’ll still be here in New York with a baby and broken dreams of the life he painted.

  That hope I thought I could smother down didn’t stay there. If it had, I wouldn’t feel like I got punched in the face again.

  “No, I mean, I’m sure they do . . . clearly, they do, I mean one was shot the other abducted, so yeah . . . Cole Securities is a great work environment.”

  He studies me and then gets to his feet. “You don’t seem at all happy.”

  “Why would it matter how I seem?”

  Quinn steps closer. “Because I’m doing this for you . . . for us.”

  “By getting out of the navy and living in Virginia Beach?”

  “By doing what you asked me. You said you wanted me to stop deploying. You said you wanted to start living a life with a man who wasn’t always leaving.”

  I nod and clench my teeth. “I did. But things have changed, Quinn. I’ve changed, and my life is changing. You need to call your commanding officer back and tell him you changed your mind . . . just like you did six months ago.”

  He groans and throws his hands up. “I’m trying here. I’m trying to do exactly what you want me to do so that I can show you how serious I am. I know you said we’re over, what about the other day? What about the night I opened up after we had sex? I thought, oh, I don’t know, that maybe there was a shot. If there wasn’t, why would you even let me in a little? Why? Do you want to break my heart? Is that it? Do you want to toy with me? Is this some game?”

  There are no winners here. There are just two people who can’t seem to find their places. It’s sad and awful. The pain of losing him was bad enough the first go around, yet here I am, enduring some form of it again.

  I need to tell him. I should open my mouth and tell him that I’m pregnant. However, when I move, that’s not what comes out. “No, it’s not a game.”

  “Then why give me any fucking hope if there wasn’t a chance you’d ever forgive me?”

  “I wanted one last good time together!” I scream and then cover my mouth.

  “What?” He takes a step closer.

  My feet move backward, but there is no space because he’s moving toward me. “Please, stop.”

  “No. Explain.”

  “Listen, what I said is not what you think, Quinn. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts sometimes. It’s too hard to see you, touch you, or be near you and not have you. I thought that if we could have fun together, if we could maybe just become friends, then it would be so much easier for us to move on. Not that I think we’ll ever be out of each other’s lives—” I start to tell him. Here’s my opening, but he speaks first.

  “And have you . . . moved on?” His voice is a mix of fury and fear.

  Answering this is almost too much because it will do nothing but make those fractures into canyons. I forgive him. It wasn’t his fault completely, it was mine too, so there’s nothing to forgive. But moving on? That’s something else. I have to move on because he will never be the man I want him to be, and it’s unfair to think he should be. While he made promises he didn’t keep, I allowed myself to believe that I could change him, so I held on a bit longer.

  It wasn’t right of me to think that way.

  And if I give him what he thinks he wants, he will only end up resenting me.

  “I’m going to have a baby.”

  “Yes, I know this. You’ve told me a million times. What I’m asking is if you’ve moved on from me? Can you see yourself loving someone else?”

  “No, not even close. But, have I moved on from the idea that we could ever be? Yeah, I guess I have.”

  “I see,” he says as he takes a step back. “Well, then I guess I have to step up my game.”

  That is not exactly what I was expecting.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Dinner. Have dinner with me tomorrow night. A real date. You gave me lunch, now I want one dinner. One real night out, and if it goes badly, I’ll walk away. I’ll do whatever you want. Deal?”

  One dinner, and then I tell him that I’m pregnant. He’s made a deal that both of us will wish we never made. Once he finds out that he’s going to be a father, he’ll see that everything he’s been telling himself he wants is a lie, and then he’ll be gone. Just like history has shown.

  22

  Ashton

  I stand here, looking at myself in the mirror, wondering how tonight will go. If it goes sideways, at least I’ll look hot. My hair is down and curled at the ends so it brushes below my shoulder blades. I did my makeup a little softer since the sun bronzed my skin . . . well, maybe not bronze, but not super pale, at least, and I’m wearing my favorite blue dress.

  He wouldn’t tell me where we are going, just that he made reservations somewhere in case I agreed. I worry my lip, trying to calm my pounding heart. He says that this is what he wants. He freaking asked me to marry him, and now, I guess we’ll see if his money’s where his mouth is.

  I will probably cry once I finally garner the courage to tell him he’s going to be a dad.

  Then I will be the one who has to make a choice.

  Do I forgive him and try again?

  Do I guard my heart as much as I can?

  The knock at my door stops my self-reflection. “Here goes nothing,” I say to the girl in the mirror. “See you on the flipside.”

  Once I’m through the apartment, I stand at the door, taking two deep breaths before finding the nerve to actually turn the knob. Then, after I do, I wish I had taken two more. I’ve seen Quinn in many different styles of clothing. His uniform, which lasted a whole three seconds before I was ripping it off him. Jeans and T-shirt, which is my favorite because no matter how big his shirts are, they always end up looking like a smmedium—half-small, half-medium. And I’ve seen him at Catherine’s wedding when he was in a suit.

  I’ve never seen him in this suit.

  Not this blue suit with a white shirt and orange tie. A suit that makes his eyes the color of sapphires that harden as they meet mine.

  Not looking like he walked out of a GQ magazine.

  This isn’t fair.

  This is sinful.

  The way he looks right now is enough to make me want to rip both our clothes off and say fuck the food.

  “You’re absolutely gorgeous,” he says as I stand here gaping at him.

  “You’re . . . you look . . . good.”

  No need to inflate his ego, right?

  “Well, don’t flatter me too much now.”

  I blush and glance away. He caught me in the lie and has no problems calling me on it. “Let’s not pretend you’re offended. You know you look very good.”

  He grins as though he could read my thoughts. “At least now there’s a very.”

  Frustrating man. “Anyway, am I dressed okay? I wasn’t sure what our plans were, so I sort of went casual-cute.”

  He steps closer, pushing my hair off my shoulder. “You’re perfect. You could wear a burlap sack and be breathtaking. Or nothing at all. I always approve of naked.”

  I roll my eyes. He says that now, but when I’m the size of a whale, we’ll see.

  I try to put my pregnancy out of my mind. I need to get through tonight and then tell him. No need to destroy our first date by blurting out that I have a bun in the oven.

  “I have something for you.”


  This grabs my attention, and I turn to him. “You do?”

  Quinn reaches into his pocket and pulls out a blue box with a white ribbon wrapped around it.

  I gasp and look up. His eyes are trained on mine as he extends the gift toward me.

  My hand shakes, and I can’t quite get myself to reach toward him. It’s not a bomb, I know this, but it’s Tiffany’s.

  “I saw it when we were there, and I thought it was about time that you got something,” he says with a laugh. “Your entire home should’ve been filled with them by now.”

  Who knew that this box would be so hard to take?

  “Quinn,” I say as I look at him.

  This is too much.

  There’s too many things going on in my head, and I’m confused and excited. He got me a blue box. Even if there’s nothing inside it . . . I don’t care.

  Okay, that’s a lie.

  I totally do.

  But still . . .

  Slowly, my hand extends, taking it but not moving to lift the lid. I stare at it, not wanting to ruin the beauty and simplicity that it holds. A satin white ribbon is tied perfectly. I’ll never be able to recreate it. If it weren’t so tacky, I’d grab my phone to document this.

  “Open it,” he urges.

  “I can’t.”

  “You can’t open it?”

  I shake my head. “No, because no matter what it is, this box will never be the same.”

  Quinn looks at me as though I’m nuts, which I am, but he doesn’t get it. This is a box women would buy just to have. It’s dumb and materialistic, but there’s something about this brand that makes chicks a little stupid.

  “Then I’ll open it.”

  I snatch my hand back and slap his with my other. “Don’t touch it.”

  His smile is wide. “Then please, fragolina, before we miss our reservation, see what I got you.”

  There’s an impatience in his voice I haven’t heard before. Is he nervous? That’s freaking cute. “Fine.” I gently pull on the ribbon and then lift the lid. Inside is a little Tiffany-Blue bag. I smile as I open it and see a silver ring. It’s an infinity symbol.

  “When I saw it,” Quinn starts talking, “I couldn’t help thinking about what an infinity sign means. There’s no beginning and there is no end.” He takes the ring from my fingers and puts it on me. “Sort of like us. We didn’t have a beginning, and I never want there to be an end.”