by Aurora Rey
In the kitchen, Daniella and Cal seemed to be waiting for her. Nope, not nervous at all. “Hi.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Daniella crossed the room and extended her hand.
Quinn accepted the handshake. “Likewise.”
“Good to see you again.” Cal mimicked his sister’s gesture.
Quinn shook his hand as well, wondering if they’d been coached or raised with such impeccable manners. “You, too.”
Amanda went to the oven and peered in. “Should be just a few minutes.”
She sniffed the air. “I’m not sure what you’re cooking, but it smells amazing.”
“You’re easy.” Amanda offered a wink.
“There’s nothing wrong with being easy when it comes to food,” Cal said.
“Thank you.” She appreciated that he was looking for common ground.
Daniella smirked. It reminded Quinn so very much of Amanda. She refrained from saying so, at least until passing the initial sniff test. “So, you designed the bakery expansion.”
It was more statement than question, but Daniella clearly expected a response. What she couldn’t tell was if Daniella was trying to make conversation or preparing an offensive. “I did. Even without how nice it’s been to get to know your mom, I would have been thrilled to take the job. It’s a fantastic space.”
The smirk softened into a half smile and she nodded. “I like the new layout you came up with. It’s much better than Mom’s idea.”
“The original idea was nice, just not feasible without a massive cost.” She hoped that came out as diplomatically as she intended.
Amanda pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. “I think we can all agree your design is better no matter what. Wine?”
She’d hesitated to bring a bottle, not wanting to send the wrong message, but she wasn’t about to turn down a glass. “Sure.”
“Daniella?”
“Yes, please.” Daniella turned her attention back to Quinn. “I’m not twenty-one yet, but Mom lets me drink wine at home so I’m less tempted to get hammered at parties.”
Given the delivery, she decided to take a chance. “Does it work?”
Daniella straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I haven’t gotten hammered yet.”
Amanda handed Quinn a glass first, then Daniella. She gave Daniella a kiss on the forehead. “And I appreciate you saying that, even if it’s not true.”
“Cross my heart.” She made the gesture, then shrugged. “Who has time for hangovers?”
Cal opened the fridge and pulled out a Pepsi. “Spoken like a true nerd.”
“Yeah, ’cause you’re such a party animal.”
“I can be. I just don’t like wine.” He curled his lip.
She took it as a good sign they were antagonizing each other in front of her. It meant they were comfortable. Amanda didn’t look quite as amused, but instead of scolding, she made them set the table.
To their credit, they didn’t grumble at all. It must be a chore they were used to. Quinn respected that as much as Amanda’s take on alcohol consumption.
They stood at the kitchen island around a platter of antipasti and focaccia. She learned about Cal’s job at Rustic Refined and his plans to study environmental engineering at Cornell, Daniella’s decision to work as a counselor at a music camp for disadvantaged kids instead of trying for a position in a lab or at a hospital. By the time they sat down to chicken parm, Quinn was thoroughly charmed. Even if Daniella still seemed to be reserving judgment.
“Do you have kids?” Cal asked.
The question seemed more casual than a fishing expedition, maybe because it came from Cal. “None of my own. My ex-wife never wanted them. I’ve got two nephews around your age, though, and a niece who’s six.”
“Do they live close?” Daniella asked.
“They do. I’ve been lucky to be part of their lives since they were born.”
“Cool.” Cal nodded affably.
“Jacob is going to be a sophomore at Cornell, and Adam is going into his senior year.”
Cal’s eyes lit up at the mention of Cornell. “What’s Jacob’s major?”
“Well, he started with architecture, but I have a feeling he might change to English.”
“Whoa.” Cal seemed alarmed by such a dramatic shift.
Amanda didn’t miss a beat. “It’s okay to change your mind.”
A lot of parents would balk at the idea of their kid switching from a professional program to something in the humanities, especially at a school like Cornell. She liked that Amanda wasn’t one of those parents.
“If you want, I can give you Jacob’s number. I’m sure he’d be happy to share some of the things he wished he’d known.”
Cal smiled with genuine enthusiasm. “That would be awesome.”
The rest of the meal passed in a blur. Dinner gave way to coffee and dessert—the ice cream she’d brought scooped onto the most amazing berry crumble she’d ever put in her mouth. The hardest part was trying to divide her attention equally between Daniella and Cal, without ignoring Amanda completely. Easier said than done.
Cal seemed to like her. Whether it had more to do with actually liking her or his easygoing personality, she couldn’t be sure. But she could easily imagine spending time with him, even without Amanda around. Daniella was a tougher nut. Reserved, but like Cal, it was hard to tell if it was her personality or something specific to Quinn. Or maybe more accurately, Quinn’s relationship with her mother. Still, the whole evening went smoothly and even Daniella was thoroughly polite. For a first meeting, she’d take it.
Amanda set the kids to doing dishes and walked Quinn to the door. “Thank you for coming.”
“I should be the one thanking you. Dinner was, once again, incredible. And it was great to meet your kids.”
Amanda rolled her eyes but smiled. “They can be overwhelming at first. Cal because he’s sweet but a chatterbox. Daniella because she’s convinced she’s an adult who has everyone and everything figured out.”
The descriptions were so on point, Quinn couldn’t help but laugh. “They clearly adore you. I expected an interrogation, so I was prepared for much worse. They’re great.”
“Interrogation, huh?” Amanda raised a brow.
“You know what I mean. I hope they weren’t just pretending because of good manners. You’ll have to tell me if they secretly hated me.”
“Stop.”
Quinn shrugged. “Kidding. Mostly.”
“Not that it was a test, but you did great.”
She might say that, but Quinn knew perfectly well it was a test. Amanda was not the kind of woman to keep someone in her life her kids hated. And to be honest, she wouldn’t want to date a woman where that sort of tension was constantly there. “I give myself a solid B, but I’m going to keep working for the A.”
Amanda folded her arms.
“Again, kidding.” She couldn’t resist adding a wink this time. “Mostly.”
Amanda shook her head. “You’re as bad as they are.”
“Tonight, I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
She laughed. “Text me when you get home?”
“Absolutely.” Once again, she kissed Amanda on the cheek, even though she wanted more.
Amanda put a hand on her arm and leaned back in. The second kiss was brief, but having Amanda’s lips on hers sent a tingle of pleasure down her spine. She let out a contented sigh.
Amanda opened the front door. “I’ll see you soon?”
Quinn stepped onto the front porch but turned back to look at Amanda. “Name the day.”
Amanda nodded. “Have a good night.”
She offered a parting wave. “You, too.”
* * *
Amanda waited for Quinn’s car to pull out of the driveway before closing the door and returning to the kitchen. She found Daniella wiping the counter and Cal drying the spaghetti pot. She desperately wanted to know their opinions but didn’t want them to feel put on the spot.
Fortunately, Cal didn’t make her wait. “Quinn seems really cool.”
He was, hands down, the absolute sweetest boy. She so loved that about him. “She said the same about you.”
Cal grinned, but Daniella rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. I thought she was maybe trying a little too hard.”
Cal swung his towel at her. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not being mean.” Daniella’s defensive tone gave her pause.
“Did you not like her?” Amanda asked. No point beating around the bush.
Daniella lifted a shoulder. “No, she was fine. It’s just, I don’t know, weird.”
She might have taken that at face value, but it didn’t add up with the conversation they’d had only a couple of weeks before. The one where Daniella seemed to think her mom was overdue for a girlfriend. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Daniella shook her head. “It’s cool. I’m going to bed.”
Without another word, she picked up her phone and ran up the stairs. Cal plopped onto one of the stools at the island and looked after her, clearly confused. “What was that about?”
“I’m not sure.” Maybe the reality of her mom dating was proving less cool than the idea of it. Or maybe she felt bad about being aloof but didn’t know how to walk back from it. She might be older than Cal, and more mature on most fronts, but she was still a teenager.
Cal shrugged. “She’s so weird sometimes. I liked Quinn a lot and I hope you keep seeing her.”
Amanda put her arm around him and rested her cheek on the top of his head. “Thanks, honey.”
He stood up and gave her a full hug. “I like seeing you happy.”
The comment put a lump in her throat. Not trusting herself to reply, she squeezed him tighter.
When she let go, he stepped back and offered her a bright smile. “I don’t have to be at work until noon tomorrow, so I’m going to go play Fortnight.”
She laughed. He might be a sweet and sensitive kid, capable of saying the exact right thing at the exact right time, but he was still a teenager, too. “All right. Not too late.”
He disappeared to the basement and she headed upstairs. She changed into pajamas and washed her face. It might still be early August, but with the windows open, her room was almost chilly. She climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up. She had no use for fall or winter anytime soon, but the burrowing made her happy.
After getting settled, she pulled up her text conversation with Quinn. She’d not responded to Quinn’s last message, about liking spending time with her every which way. She spent a minute trying to think of something clever, then settled on one of Quinn’s phrases. Ditto.
Instead of waiting to see if Quinn saw it or replied, she switched over to her group text with Erin, Jack, and Julia. Over the course of the evening, each of them had sent some sort of inquiry, ranging from a simple Well? to a GIF of fingers drumming on a table. As much as she protested their harassment, she was grateful for it. She couldn’t even imagine navigating dating without her little group of confidants.
Success. D was a bit cool, but Cal made up for it.
Erin replied first. She feels obliged because she hates Bella.
Maybe that was it. Paired with her current phase of being aloof and impossible to impress. Not full on rude, but I hope she warms up.
Did Quinn pick up on it?
Amanda sighed. Yes, but she was beyond gracious.
Julia chimed in. And that’s why we like her.
Before Amanda could reply, a text popped up from Quinn. She toggled over. I hope they liked me enough to want to hang out again before school starts.
Definitely. Maybe a picnic. She hit send and returned to the group text. Jack had joined in with a Hooray for successful kid meet and a string of festive emojis. The group went back and forth for a bit with a mix of teasing and encouragement. Meanwhile, Quinn said she loved the idea of the picnic. The earnestness of the message made her smile and she told her friends as much.
That set off a string of teasing about being smitten. It didn’t bother her, but she wasn’t sure she wanted the conversation to turn sentimental. I’m glad she wanted to meet the kids, but I’m mostly thinking about the next time I can get in her pants.
A microsecond after hitting send, realization hit. She’d not sent that to her closest friends. She’d sent it to Quinn. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Why wasn’t there an undo function in texting? She immediately added a Not for you! Sorry!
Then she waited. Delivered, but not read. Seriously, why couldn’t there be a recall option?
While she stared at the screen, the other conversation carried on. Notifications flitted across the top of her screen, teasing her but also each other. When it became clear Quinn wasn’t going to reply right away, she switched back over and read what she’d missed. She sighed. At least she could commiserate in real time. You’ll never guess what I just did.
She sent a screen shot and got line after line of laughing emojis in return.
Laugh away, but srsly, what do I do?
I think you have to own it. Jack said. Erin and Julia agreed.
Quinn’s reply came through before she could. I hope you mean the message and not wanting to get into someone else’s pants.
Amanda laughed. She could do embarrassed and apologetic like a boss. But what if, this time, she didn’t? She bit her bottom lip while she typed, not giving herself the chance to second guess the decision. Yours are the only pants I want to get in. Promise.
She held her breath while Quinn typed a reply. Technically, she’d just floated the idea of being exclusive. Quinn could take that seriously or not. Weirdly, she wasn’t sure which option made her more nervous.
Same here. Except sometimes you wear skirts and that’s nice, too.
She laughed again. Fair enough.
She took a screen shot and sent it to her friends. They cheered. She wished them a good night, then did the same to Quinn. She turned off the light and snuggled back under the covers. The whole thing made her feel a bit like a giddy teenager with a crush. Sure, cell phones didn’t exist when she was a teenager, but still.
Chapter Twenty-one
Quinn left the site survey for the new bank, satisfied they’d break ground in the next week or two. Since she was on the west side of the lake, she decided to swing by the bakery. Joss had mentioned she had a crew working weekends to keep the timeline on track. It wasn’t her habit to keep such a close eye on the construction phase, but this wasn’t a typical project. Or, perhaps more accurately, it wasn’t a typical client.
She arrived, expecting the sound of hammers and saws to greet her. She heard neither. In fact, it was so quiet, she could make out the call of a chickadee chattering in a nearby tree.
Several vehicles sat in the small lot, though, including Joss’s truck. A familiar foreboding settled under her ribs. She walked to the back door and found it ajar. There were definitely people inside. No noise from tools, but a pair of frustrated voices and a handful of expletives greeted her. “Hello?”
Whatever conversation was unfolding stopped and Joss called out, “Quinn? Is that you?”
She stepped inside. Gone was the plastic sheeting from the earlier phase of the project. New walls were up, but wiring still protruded from where outlets should be. The flooring looked about half done. “It is. Bad time?”
Joss rounded the corner. “More like a bad day.”
Her stomach sank. “What’s wrong?”
“Half the flooring we ordered is the wrong thing.”
“How could we have ordered half the wrong thing? We’re using all the same.” Amanda had decided she liked the wood grain tile so much, she wanted it in the kitchen, too.
“We didn’t. Half the boxes are the wrong color.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t good.
“I should have opened them all when they arrived, but I checked one and assumed they were all the same.”
“Which should have been a reasonable assumption.” One
she would have made, and readily forgiven. Only it wasn’t hers to forgive.
“Maybe, but it’s a costly one.”
It wasn’t the money she worried about. The supplier would correct the mistake without question. It was time. “What are we talking about?”
“Well, two to three days to get the right materials in.”
“That’s not so bad.” They had a target completion date, but it was padded a little.
“But a couple more to tear up what got laid before I caught it.”
“Oh.” Her mind raced, imagining possible solutions.
“It’s my own damn fault. Charlotte was sick yesterday, so I didn’t come in. And my guys didn’t think twice about it. They just figured it was supposed to be one color in the kitchen and a different color in the dining area.”
“Where is the stuff that’s wrong?” She didn’t want to ask Amanda to change her mind, but it would only be fair to give her options.
“The dining area. We’re going to fix it, without question. And if I can talk a few guys into overtime, we might make up at least some of the time.”
“All right.” This sort of thing happened. She hated it, but she was used to it. But telling a client and telling her girlfriend felt like vastly different propositions.
Joss gave her a knowing look. “I know this is the sort of thing you communicate, but I can.”
Quinn shook her head. “No, no. I can do it. I should do it.”
“Obviously, I’ll absorb the cost of the tile we wasted. And the overtime.”
In addition to being good at her job, and a fellow lesbian, Joss had the highest integrity of any contractor she’d ever worked with. “Let me talk with Amanda, see how upset she is.”
Joss winced. “I’m really sorry.”
Quinn waved her off. “This kind of thing happens, way more often with everyone else I work with than you.”
“Still.”
She could tell part of Joss’s frustration was her own sense of responsibility, but part of it was knowing Quinn’s personal connection to Amanda. No way should Joss take on the responsibility for that. “It’s fine. I’ll see if Amanda is home and swing by to talk in person.”