Intimacy

by Mattie Bowman

  He turned on his heels, walking until he disappeared down the hallway. I shut the door, sliding to the floor in front of it. I clutched my side and let out all the tears I’d been holding in, now more confused than ever.

  Ever since Grant had mentioned that I might have assumed wrong, I’d wanted it to be true.

  Now that I knew it was, I was in more pain than I had been before. Because Quinn was right. I had kept this all to myself, had concocted this plan on my own, and had doubted myself and our marriage each step of the way. It wasn’t Quinn who had reservations about us, and our new roles as man and wife again. It was me. All me.

  And that fact might have lost me what I feared so much to lose in the first place—Quinn.

  16

  Quinn

  “Can I get you anything?” Anderson asked from across the room. His in-resort housing wasn’t as big as our suite, but it was decent, and he’d graciously let me crash on his couch last night.

  “Is it too early to start drinking?” I asked from where I sat on the couch, donning the same clothes I’d worn yesterday. I couldn’t bring myself to go back to our suite. Not yet. Not after everything that had happened with Tara. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. The way she’d thought I could betray her like that, this whole time…it killed me.

  “It isn’t even eight a.m. yet.” Anderson laughed.

  “Judging isn’t nice,” I said.

  “I’m not, but I think you could use a clear head.”

  I nodded, though clear was the last thing I was. Confused, lost, scared. That was me. And angry. That was never far off either.

  Anderson sank into a chair across from me, a fresh uniform on. “What are you going to do?”

  I pressed my lips together. “I have no idea.”

  “Really?”

  “You say that like I should know exactly what to do.”

  “Shouldn’t you?”

  “Ugh,” I raked my fingers through my hair. “Are you studying to be a shrink?”

  “No,” he said. “But you love her.”

  “I do.”

  “Then why is this so complicated?”

  “Because,” I said, almost a whine. “She thought I wanted to divorce her! She dragged me to this place by lying to me, and then she felt the need to test me at every turn. Throw me into these fantasies or rooms and see if we could still…” I sighed. “Like I wasn’t enough. It’s like she doesn’t even know me.”

  Anderson hissed. “When you say it like that it sounds awful.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Look, I’ve only seen this from the outside. To me, it looked more like Tara was doubting herself at every turn. And why wouldn’t she? She thought you were going to book it after shipping your only child off to college.”

  “I would never do that. She should’ve known better.”

  “In that regard, shouldn’t you have known that she wouldn’t have crossed a line with Grant?”

  I cut my eyes to him, glaring at him for being right. “You didn’t see what I saw. You would’ve thought the same thing.”

  He tilted his head, slipping on his shoes. “Not so sure about that. Not if I had a love like Tara’s.”

  I huffed.

  “You can’t admit that both of you had huge misconceptions of the other?”

  “I guess.” I shrugged, the motion painful from sleeping on his couch. That and the having a hard time breathing while I thought I was losing the love of my life. How long would she take to think things through? How long would it be before she decided if she really wanted me or not?

  He stood up, heading toward the door. “You can stay as long as you like. You know that, but I think you need to act quickly. You don’t want her to think you’ve given up on her.”

  “I haven’t.” I would never stop fighting for Tara. Not as long as she’d have me. But what if she didn’t want me to? What if after all of this, after everything, she wanted to be free?

  “She doesn’t know that.”

  I glared at him. “You’re right.” I sighed. “But she has to decide what she wants. I can’t make the decision for her.”

  “True.” He nodded. “But it would be good for her to know what her options are.” He flashed me a knowing look and turned to head out the door.

  “Hey.” I stopped him. “Does Grant have any sessions right now?”

  He smirked and shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Think he can squeeze me in?”

  “Follow me.” He jerked his head toward the hallway.

  A few minutes later, Grant was welcoming me into his office, and I had to resist the urge to punch him. Clenching my hands into fists, I took calming breaths as I sat on one of the loveseats.

  He scooped up his acoustic guitar and sat in a chair opposite me. Strumming the chords lightly, I wondered if he would start singing before I could manage to speak.

  “Want to tell me why you look like you want to take my head off?” He asked, glancing up from the guitar. The directness of his question shocked me. Maybe I hadn’t hidden the anger so well.

  “I saw you with Tara last night.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Here?”

  “Yeah, and heard you talking about what she was keeping from me.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding. “That must’ve looked awful. I’m surprised you didn’t crash in here like a madman. I would’ve.”

  I tilted my head, huffing. “I didn’t want to murder you in your own resort.”

  “Thanks for that.” He tapped the side of his guitar. “Especially since we didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know that now.” I gritted my teeth, hating to admit I’d been wrong.

  “Do you?” Grant asked.

  “Yes. And I know what she thought I’d done, too.”

  “And you hadn’t.” He didn’t say it like a question, more like he already knew I hadn’t filed for divorce the day I’d gone to the office.

  “Of course not.” I rested my elbows on my knees, rubbing my palms together.

  “And you came to see me…”

  He let the sentence hang there until I looked up at him. “I need to ask you something. And I’m hoping you’ll be honest with me.”

  Grant spun the guitar in his hands, setting it to lean against the side of the chair. He gave me his full attention, and I respected him a little more for it. “Like I told Tara,” he said, motioning around his office. “This is meant to be a safe space. And I’m always honest. Some couples haven’t been pleased about that, but it is the only way I can truly help them.”

  My gut twisted, the fear of what he might say churning my stomach until I thought I might puke right there in his safe space. After what felt like an hour, I finally looked up at him. “Does she still love me?”

  “You know the answer to that.” He tilted his head at me.

  “After this week, I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

  He leaned in closer to me, and I resisted the urge to draw back. It was like he was trying to read my mind or soul or some shit. And seeing how he didn’t even realize just how close he was, it made me think he was this invading with all his clients—which would explain what I’d seen last night.

  “I can tell you this because you both signed papers that allow me to discuss these matters with each of you openly. And I can honestly tell you the only reason Tara booked your stay here was because she thought you were going to leave her. That you were curious what all you’d missed out on by being married to her so long and from such a young age. And she wanted to fight for you. Wanted to see if the two of you could remember what had driven you together in the first place before you’d become parents. Would someone go to all that trouble, if she didn’t love you?”

  I shook my head, my heart filling with warmth. “Why couldn’t she have just talked to me?”

  “Because she’s Tara. As you know, better than anyone, she withdraws into herself too often. Tangles things up in her mind until she can’t see the end.”r />
  “Wow,” I said. “You really are perceptive.”

  He shrugged. “A gift.”

  Hope surged through me. Tara still loved me. Wanted me. We’d hit a massive pot-hole on our way to finding each other again, but now it was time to maneuver out of it.

  “Can I ask you for one more thing?”

  Grant smirked. “Does it involve winning back the heart of the love of your life?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then absolutely.”

  “I need your help.” I smiled, going on to tell him the surprise I’d had planned for her all along. The damn event that had set all this into motion in the first place. I was going to wait until after our trip to do it, but now more than ever we needed this.

  “Sounds fantastic,” Grant said. “I’ll make all the arrangements.”

  I stood up, shaking his hand. “Thank you,” I said, happy to actually mean it. After last night I wasn’t sure if I could ever be civil with the dude, but now, after all he’d done for Tara and myself, there was no way not to like the guy.

  Now I had to pray that he was right about her, about us, and about what she would do when everything came to a head.

  17

  Tara

  A knock on the door jarred me out of my lunch and stare off into space time. I rose from the kitchen island where I’d been picking at my sandwich and thinking of all the ways in which I’d fucked up my life, and crossed the room to open the door.

  Anderson stood there, holding a large white box, and a smirk on his face. How he could look so happy when I was miserable?

  “Have you seen him?” I immediately asked, ignoring the box. I’d tried to call and text Quinn a million times, but his phone went straight to voicemail. I hoped it was because his cell was dead due to his charger—and all his clothes—still being here in our room, but it was hard to know. Maybe he was ignoring me. Maybe I’d pushed him away by not communicating that he’d never come back to me.

  “Yes,” Anderson said.

  “Is he okay?” I pulled him inside, and he set the box on the counter.

  “You really should be talking to him, not me.” Anderson shifted his weight.

  “I’ve tried!” I snapped, but gave him an apologetic look and took a deep breath. “I tried to call him. To tell him…” I stopped myself before I explained to Anderson all the reasons I loved Quinn and how sorry I was that I hadn’t opened up to him like I should’ve. Anderson was right; I needed to tell Quinn that, not him. “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me.”

  “That’s not the case.” Anderson laid his hand on top of the box. “And it is the reason I’m here.”

  I’d been so wrapped up in my own thoughts I hadn’t even asked him what he was doing here. I needed to get a grip.

  “Quinn would like you to meet him near the lake. He said you’d know the spot.” He looked at the box. “And to wear this.” He smiled at me. “But, he wanted me to make sure and tell you only to come if you want to and that if you still need time, send that message back with me.”

  I scrunched my eyebrows at him, wondering exactly what was going on. “I don’t need more time.” I know it had taken us one stressed way to get here, but I’d never been more certain of what I wanted. Quinn. Always. And for us to be open with each other from that point on.

  “I thought not,” Anderson said. “Have fun.” He winked at me and then walked out the door.

  I immediately ripped off the lid of the box, gasping when I pulled the tissue paper back to see what laid inside.

  A half-hour later—after taking the time to hide the circles that rested under my eyes from the lack of sleep the night before—I slipped on the gorgeous silk white dress that flared out just above my knees and made the walk to the lake as fast as I could.

  I honestly didn’t know what Quinn had in store for me, but just knowing he would be waiting for me had my heart soaring. Hope pulsed in my core with each step I took, the idea that we could find each other again after the incredible mess I’d made propelled me to move faster.

  Finally, I cleared the wooded area around the path, and there he was.

  Good God the man looks amazing in a suit.

  Quinn stood in the same spot where we’d made love the other day, the clear blue sky and lake behind him. The black suit he wore hugged his muscles in all the right ways, and instead of wondering why we were dressed to the nines when we should be wearing hiking gear, all I could think of was getting him out of those clothes.

  His eyes lit up when he saw me, and the second I’d reached him close enough to touch, he sank to one knee.

  Wait, what? He’s getting the suit dirty!

  “You came,” he said, smiling up at me.

  “Of course I did,” I said, attempting to tug on his arm. “You’re getting grass all over those pants.”

  He rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small black box.

  I covered my mouth with my hands. “What are you doing?”

  “Something I should’ve done sixteen years ago.” He popped open the box and inside was a diamond ring, three times the size of the one he’d given me when we were eighteen. “Tara, honey, I’ve loved you every day since the morning you ran into me. That love has only grown with each year and will continue to until the day I’m taken from this earth. There is no one I’d rather grow old with. And I’m so sorry I didn’t do this when we were kids—sorry I didn’t put in the effort back then like I should’ve—but I was a boy. I know the path here has been rocky and confusing and even hurtful at times, but I’m now on my knees before you, a man so wholly in love with you I can barely contain it. You’re the mother of my baby girl, you’re my best friend, and you’re the love of my life. Will you please marry me? Again?”

  Tears filled my eyes, as did the love in my heart. It tripled until I had a hard time breathing, so I simply nodded over and over again.

  A grin spread from ear to ear on his face as he slipped the ring on my finger. It fit perfectly against the band I already wore, and he stood up, hefting me against him. I kissed him, hard and fierce, showing him exactly what I wanted in that blissful moment.

  He set me on my feet, clearing his throat as he pulled back.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “She said yes!” He said almost as if he were cheering. A second later Anderson came around the bend of the path behind Quinn, holding his cellphone. An elderly gentleman—also in a suit—followed him.

  “What is going on?” I glanced at the screen, smiling widely as I saw Blaire grinning back at us with tears in her eyes. I waved to her, and she waved back.

  “I had planned to do this back home, next time Blaire visited.” Quinn motioned to the phone and then to the older gentleman. “Tara, this is Mr. Fredrick. You may not remember, but he was the judge at city hall the day we were married.”

  I gasped. “That’s right,” I said, taking a good look at him. Time had aged him, though it had us as well, but now I recognized him. “You signed our marriage certificate.”

  “I did,” he said, smiling.

  Quinn turned me to face him. “He started working as a lawyer several years ago.” He eyed me, and it took me a minute to register what that meant.

  “Oh my God,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Does he…he works at…”

  Quinn pressed his lips together and nodded. “That’s why I went there. I wanted to do this right this time. Wanted it to be as close to the original day as possible, only with the wedding you deserved.”

  I glanced down at the simple yet elegant white dress I wore, then back up to Quinn. I shook my head. “I’m so sorry, Quinn.”

  He cupped my cheek, sweeping away my tears with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t be. We’re here. However we got here…we’re here. Nothing else matters.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, forcing myself out of the past—and all the mistakes we’d made—and firmly rooted myself in the present. “I love you.”

  “I’ve always loved you.”
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  He intertwined our hands and tugged us in front of Mr. Fredrick. Anderson followed us with Blaire on the screen, and I blew her a kiss with my free hand.

  “Are we ready to begin?” Mr. Fredrick asked.

  I locked onto Quinn’s blue-gray gaze, seeing how much love filled those eyes I knew as well as my own, and nodded.

  “I’m ready if you are,” I said, arching a brow at Quinn.

  “A second chance at forever with you?” He smirked. “More than ready.”

  As Mr. Fredrick started reading us our vows, I glanced back at Blaire before returning focus to Quinn. She had been on my hip the last time we did this, and even then we hadn’t gotten to say anything. Now, looking up at the man of my dreams, the one who stole my heart so long ago, I scolded myself for ever thinking he could want out of this.

  What we had—despite the roller coaster it had been—was this side of perfect.

  And now we were going to enter a new chapter of our life, and there isn’t anyone else I’d rather face it with than Quinn.

  18

  Three Months Later

  Quinn

  “Honey?” I called after I walked in the door, my boots thudding against the hardwood in our living room. It had been one hell of a day at work, but it had been my last one in that capacity. I would still be acting C.E.O. of the business, but for now, I had enough people in place for it to run smoothly. Which freed up more time for me to spend where I was really needed—like with my wife.

  “In here!” She answered from the kitchen, so I headed that direction. “I’m awful,” she said as I rounded the corner. “I ordered in.”

  She had plates on the counter next to a wide variety of Chinese takeout containers.