Of course.
“A match?”
“Yes! Now hurry up! Get up and get dressed!” She didn’t give him the chance to answer, or allow herself to linger with him for very long. This morning, she’d resolved to accept their moment for what it was, and rather than turn it into something it likely could never be, cherish the experience and keep right on moving.
He hadn’t been a bachelor for centuries by chance—he was a bachelor by choice, waiting for the right person to come along. After hearing what his father taught him about love, she’d realized he wasn’t someone who took the idea of finding a forever love lightly. That’s what made him such a terrific, honorable man.
Khristos would want to woo the woman he fell in love with, get to know her, really know her. Not jump right into bed with her. They’d known each other less than a week. That wasn’t who Khristos was. It wasn’t who she was—or who she hoped to be now that her future had changed so drastically.
So no muss, no fuss, no regrets.
He slid from the bed, totally naked, but she turned her back to him as quickly as possible and grabbed a scarf from the drawer of her dresser. “Hurry—we need to move on this. I’m almost certain someone’s waiting to be matched. Dress warmly, it’s cold out today—looks like we might get more snow.”
She pretended that she didn’t hear his protests as she yanked the door open and ran for the living room. Anything was better than seeing him get out of that bed, full-throttle naked.
Nina handed her a cup of coffee, Buffy sitting on her shoulder. “You okay this morning?”
She looked down at her feet so Nina wouldn’t see the red heat on her cheeks. “Of course I am. Slept great, ready to tackle another match. Sorry I woke you, but something’s happening.”
“Oh, you did not sleep,” Nina razzed.
“How do you know?”
She tugged her ear. “Vampire hearing. But I appreciate you trying to keep it to yourselves.”
“Could we not talk about this?”
“Aw, c’mon, Mini-Goddess. What’s the fekkin’ fun in that?”
Quinn gulped and took a deep breath. “Please.”
Nina lifted Quinn’s chin with a cool hand. “Hey, kiddo. What the fuck?”
No. She couldn’t do this right now. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m just tired and this match is making me crazy and I don’t want to muddy my emotional waters by talking about anything but this match that needs making.”
Nina gave her a guarded look. “Okay.”
Quinn’s mouth fell open as she set her coffee down and quickly braided the length of her hair. “You’re just going to let it go? No badgering, name calling, threats?”
Nina grinned. “Just like Frozen.”
Quinn giggled and rubbed the vampire’s shoulder. “Aw, nice Nina is nice.”
“Fuck you.”
She giggled again, straightening as Khristos came out of the bedroom dressed in low-slung jeans, work boots and a fitted black pullover sweater. If not making more of their night together was the right thing to do, why did it feel as if it were ripping her in half when she looked at him? Tall, strong, good. So good.
But that feeling in the pit of her belly began to mushroom, trumping everything else—even how confused Khristos appeared, judging by the look on his face.
“We have to hurry!”
Grabbing her purse, she threw the strap over her head and ran for the door, following her gut, burning with a new urgency she hadn’t experienced in her other matches.
Feet pounded behind her as Khristos and Nina caught up, flanking her on either side. Yet, she didn’t have time to notice anything but the path before her. She followed this crazy pounding in her veins, slipping through the crowds of commuters, listening the way Khristos had taught her.
She almost didn’t even look up until she landed exactly where she needed to be without even knowing the route she took.
Quinn stopped dead, the haze of the chase clearing enough to see where she’d landed.
The Spotted Pig.
Aka, Shawna “Cantaloupes” Sutter’s place of employment.
No. This couldn’t be right. Why, in all of the universe, would she have to make a match here? She dug her phone out and checked the time. Shit.
Igor always got his coffee here at exactly eight sharp on his way to work, and it was five after.
Khristos put a hand at her elbow. “Quinn?”
She peered through the glass window, etched artfully with the name of the coffee shop, and saw Igor playfully feed Shawna a piece of strudel. And the urge, deep and growing inside her, became more insistent.
But those sharp pangs had nothing to do with Igor or any type of longing for him. She didn’t want to hack his testicles off with a butter knife. She didn’t want to see him writhe in agony. She didn’t feel that empty feeling of betrayal he’d left her with when he’d told her about Shawna.
Oddly, when it came to Shawna, she found herself admiring the skillful use of a scarf she’d made into a vest by folding it and tying the square edges into knots at her shoulders. It was a nice color on her, and accented her flame-red hair.
And she took great care managing the coffee shop. The orange and funky-green walls, dressed here and there with animated pictures of various musicians playing instruments, were artsy and fun. The pebbly surface of the sheet-metal countertops shone, and the multicolored mugs they used were hung perfectly from pegs on guitars and banjos that acted as racks all around the space.
But this had to be some cosmic joke.
“I take it that’s Igor and Shawna?” Khristos asked, startling her from her thoughts.
“How’d you guess?”
“Those cans. How the hell does she stand up without tipping over?” Nina asked on a snort.
Khristos jammed his hands into the pocket of his down coat, obviously fighting a snicker. “The name of the coffee shop. You mentioned it.”
“Right. The dreaded Parthenon confessional.” She’d never live that down.
“So what do we do next, Aphrodite?” Khristos put his body between her and the coffee shop door.
And in the midst of all this, she still couldn’t look at his handsome face. Her eyes sought the ground and her fuzzy boots. “I don’t know. I do know I arrived here like some kind of homing pigeon, and my gut tells me to go inside. I don’t like it, but there it is.”
“Shall we?” he asked.
Yes! her mind screamed, even if her feet were reluctant.
Squaring her shoulders, she straightened and lifted her chin, marching past Khristos and Nina and walking directly into the coffee shop as if someone in the joint owed her money—boobs and all.
Which would have been fine if someone did owe her money. At least she’d appear as though she had a reason to be there other than a public, spiteful, jealous rage.
There were no tables where they could sit so her back would be to Igor and Shawna and she wouldn’t have to watch them worry she’d bust out her hunting knife and take everyone out in the scorned-lover routine she was almost certain they were anticipating.
Igor’s eyes bulged momentarily when he caught sight of her chest, stuffed into her red jacket like a sausage, but he looked away almost immediately.
So she plopped down at the table just two away from where they sat and folded her hands in front of her and waited for whatever was next.
“So, hot mocha lattes with a shot of espresso and some whipped cream in the shape of happy clouds?” Nina asked on a chuckle, sliding into the seat next to Quinn’s.
“Or arsenic with a spot of rat poisoning so I can end my suffering. Because um, humiliating when the people who did you wrong clearly think you’re here to end it all—or take them as hostages,” Quinn joked.
But she didn’t feel like she was suffering at all. Seeing Igor did nothing for her. It didn’t evoke rage or grief or much of anything, and that was odd. There was a time when seeing Igor, his horn-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, reminded her she had a
nother half to make her whole—or so she’d thought.
Khristos pulled out the chair next to her and reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. She was determined to handle this with class and some dignity, and without the pretense that she’d brought this hot hunk in here to show Igor she was doing just fine.
It was like a Mexican standoff, a waiting duel of who’d look at whom first. Or which of the two would ask whom her plastic surgeon was first.
Igor and Shawna, in defensive mode, huddled together, their bodies covering each other protectively as they whispered. Shawna’s red hair spilled down her lean back, her tight jeans revealing a pink thong at the waist.
How strange that she felt so indifferently about the fact that Igor had always said he didn’t care for what he’d dubbed “trashy lingerie”. Rather than be outraged, she chalked it up to yet another thing he’d done to pretend he was something he wasn’t.
Khristos leaned into her, his eyes scanning her face. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“In this game of awkward chess, I’m wondering who’s going to make the first move.”
The question was answered when Igor pushed off the table with his hands and approached them. His lean, tall frame moved across the floor with caution. His horn-rimmed glasses were nowhere on his boy-next-door face, and his blue eyes, eyes she’d always thought pretty enough to be a woman’s, were wary.
Nina went into serial-killer defensive mode, her body language stiffening, her low growl menacing.
She patted Nina’s hand to keep her in check. Igor might be a lying cheat, but he was as docile and non-confrontational as she was.
His smile was hesitant as he ran a hand through his sandy-blonde hair. “Quinn. Good to see you.”
She straightened her tinted glasses, hiding her freakishly purple eyes. “You, too, Igor. How’ve you been?”
“Okay, I guess.”
Quinn shook her head in amazement. He was minimizing his happiness to keep from rubbing salt in her wound. She saw it in his eyes, in the way he avoided Shawna’s curious gaze.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
“Is it about the sheets? I’ll give them to you, if you want. You paid for them—”
Quinn barked a laugh, cutting him off. The old, sad, misguided Quinn might have thrown the idea of those sheets right back in his face with a sharp retort about sloppy seconds and wisecracks about spending his time with a woman who thought picking the next Bachelorette was like taking an IQ test.
But the new Quinn, the new one who saw all the things wrong about them as a couple, all the cruel analogies she’d applied to Shawna out of anger, shook her head again.
Looking back now, she marveled at how she’d diligently ignored coming home to the lingering scent of Britney Spears perfume and Bubble Yum bubble gum in the air in favor of believing her Mr. Darcy would never cheat.
“I don’t want the sheets, Igor. I’d just like to talk.”
“Here? In front of your—”
“Friends,” Nina provided with a snarl. “Scary, cheater-hating friends who’ll—”
“Nina,” Khristos warned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“It’s okay,” Quinn said, though the word “friend” warmed her to her core. “Slow your roll there, Dark Overlord. I’ve got this.”
Igor blanched when Nina snapped her teeth at him. “You upset her—one GD tear—and I’m comin’ for you. Got it, lover?”
Quinn hopped up and placed her hand on Nina’s shoulder, dropping a quick kiss on her cheek. “Have faith in me.” Pointing to a corner booth, she asked Igor, “That work?”
Igor nodded, looking back at Shawna, who pulled a string of bubble gum from her mouth and wound it around her finger as she watched them.
Quinn slid into the booth and took a moment to reflect on how easy, at least for her, all this felt.
Igor took his place at the table directly across from her and began to defend himself. “Listen, Quinn. I know I did something really shitty to you—”
“That’s not why I’m here, Igor. I’m not here to yell angry words at you, to humiliate you—or Shawna for that matter. Honest.” She didn’t even know why she was here. But then that urge she’d felt before came back tenfold, punching her in the stomach.
His eyes became guarded again. “So why are you here?”
Because the universe seems to think this scenario is LOL?
“Honestly? I don’t know. It just sort of happened, but while I’m here, I just want to say something to you, if that’s okay.”
“Okay,” he said, with hesitance riddling his tone.
“I hope you’re happy,” Quinn said with a smile, readying to slide out of the booth.
He grabbed her hand, to the tune of chair legs scraping the floor from across the room as Nina prepared to beat him down and Khristos warned her to ease up.
“Wait. Please, Quinn.”
Quinn fought a chuckle and held up a hand to thwart Nina. “For?”
Igor swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his nervousness. “I want to say something, too. I’m sorry I hurt you. Really sorry. It’s been on my mind, keeping me up at night since we broke up. But I need you to know something. Shawna and I never slept together while you and I were together. I know that’s what you thought, and I didn’t do a very good job of defending myself. But she made it clear I had to leave you before any funny business happened, and she was right.”
Quinn fought a gasp. Their last moments together had been fraught with angry words and her tears as she’d packed her things and stormed out the door. This revelation was a surprise. One she was glad of—it made Igor a better man than she’d originally thought.
“I’ve hurt a lot of people trying to figure out me, Quinn, but I’m sorriest I hurt you. This thing with Shawna…I know she’s not what you’d expect, as smart and well-rounded as you are. But there’s a quality to her, for lack of a better phrase, vocabulary skills I find endearing. I like that she needs me. She has a big heart. She’s kind, nurturing. I can relax with her. I don’t know…it just—”
“Happened. I get it, and it’s okay. Sometimes the person you’d least expect ends up being the person you love the most. I’m actually okay. I know people say that out of spite when on the inside they want to gouge their ex’s eyes out with a nail file, but for me, it’s true. We were a mistake from the start, and I see that now.”
His chuckle was as ironic as his smile. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that, too. About who I am for falling in love with someone else when you were so good to me. But I have this weird sort of self-discovery thing happening lately. I always felt like I was pretending with you. Pretending I was as well-read and knowledgeable. I don’t have to pretend with Shawna. I don’t have to pretend I’m something I’m just not. She’s okay with the fact that we’re pretty damn different. I don’t have to outsmart her or outthink her. I’m not doing things I really don’t enjoy just to keep from being lonely. And it’s a relief. But how I ended up here? That’s on me. I did those things to myself, and I regret every wasted moment.”
Khristos’s words came back to haunt her, but she wasn’t angry about them anymore. She was grateful. Grateful to share this moment of closure with Igor.
“Funny you should mention self-discovery. I did those things, too, Igor. I turned you into someone you weren’t in my head, and I let myself get carried way far away. I’ve done it before and it was wrong. So, I was wrong, too.”
“Did this self-discovery also include breast implants?” Then he pressed his wrist over his mouth. “Sorry. That was insensitive and rude, but they’re hard to miss. You really went all the way.”
Yet, she wasn’t at all insulted. Instead, she snickered. “Long story you’d never believe. They’re not implants but some weird medical thing I picked up in Greece. It’s almost too fluky to explain.”
He paused a moment, the tic above his eye pulsing, the one that acted up when he was genuinely concerned. “So you really are
okay, Quinn?”
“Yep. I’ve packed up my shivs and testicle-removers for good, where you’re concerned.”
Now Igor laughed, shaking his head. “I’ve dreaded this moment, you know. Thought about it. Visualized it.”
“Bet it went a lot better than the movie you made up in your head, huh?”
“Yeah. That was filled with carnage and entrails,” he joked.
“Then that’s all that needs to be said. I’m glad you’re happy, Igor. I’m glad Shawna’s the one who helped you realize it was time to just be you.” She slid out of the booth and Igor followed while Shawna hovered in the background, her face full of concern.
Facing him for what likely would be the last time, she smiled, wide, genuine, reaching up to cup his jaw as she did. “I hope from here on out you’re always true to yourself, and most of all, that you and Shawna are happy.” She stood on tiptoe, planting a kiss on his cheek before she turned to leave.
Hitching her jaw at the door in Khristos and Nina’s direction, she plodded toward it until that damn feeling, the one pushing her to come to the Spotted Pig in the first place, grabbed her guts up in a fist and wrenched them.
Pushing her way out the door, she leaned against the side of the coffee shop as Khristos, always near, grabbed her around the waist. “Tell me what’s happening, Quinn!” he demanded in her ear.
But she knew what was happening—it had just taken her by surprise with its velocity, with its truth.
“Now!” she whispered to her mental image of Cupid, looking up and into the coffee shop window just in time to see the arrow—gleaming and bright in the morning sun, whiz through the air and land on Igor and Shawna, hugging each other, under a shower of gold and silver.
Was that the scent of Bubble Yum and Brittany Spears perfume she smelled in the air?
Quinn smiled. Now, everything really was okay.
Which brought to mind one of her favorite Keats quotes: Who shall say between a man and a woman, who is most delighted?
* * * *
“Good job back there, kiddo,” Nina praised her upon their return to Quinn’s apartment. “Personally? I woulda fucked him up so hard he woulda shit his teeth for a year. You’re a better person than I am.”
Accidentally Aphrodite (Accidentally Paranormal Novel Book 10) Page 17