Twice Shy

by Aurora Rey

  She picked up her phone. A text from Cal about the horrors of ice breakers and one from Mel about being glad they could have the day together, all things considered. She sent a cackling GIF to Cal, but pondered her response to Mel for a long minute.

  I’d like to go back to how things were before. She hit send before realizing the multiple possible interpretations of “before.” Before we slept together.

  The reply bubble appeared, then vanished. Minutes ticked by and she felt like an idiot waiting for a response. Instead, she switched over to her thread with Quinn. Other than a message that morning wishing her luck and Cal the best, there was nothing. No request to get together. But also no assertion she didn’t want to get together.

  She needed to give it some time. Erin had said as much. Jack, too. Julia was more for hashing it out, but not communicating—and the power of the grand gesture—were still fresh in her mind. She shook her head. Quinn had basically asked for space, so that’s what she was going to give her.

  I want to agree, but I can’t bring myself to regret what happened between us.

  She stared at Mel’s words. It was easier for her to say. Her life was already imploding when they hooked up.

  Not the showy scene that embarrassed us both. The reconnecting. Appreciating who we are now in new ways.

  Tears pricked her eyes, not because Mel was wrong, but because she was right. Hooking up with Mel woke her out of a hibernation she hadn’t even realized she was in. In some ways, it put her in the mindset to open her heart to Quinn. Even with the havoc the whole thing had wreaked, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Yeah.

  Is there anything I can do to make it right?

  She had this mental picture of Mel showing up at Quinn’s office and pleading her case. Try to get Daniella back to a good place. Send. Sigh. I think the rest is mine to deal with.

  I have a good feeling it’s going to work out. You’re a catch and Quinn isn’t an idiot.

  The assertion—the closest thing to complimenting Quinn Mel had managed—made her chuckle. I just need to convince her that taking a chance on me doesn’t make her one.

  Mel replied with the laughing emoji, then the crying one, and finally a heart. She reiterated her opinion and wished Amanda a good night. Amanda thanked her and set her phone aside. She should probably eat dinner, but food was the last thing she wanted.

  She padded into the kitchen to refill her wine glass and grabbed a sleeve of crackers. A hangover after her first night as an empty nester would be rather pathetic. She returned to the sofa, picked up her phone, and once again contemplated texting Quinn.

  She messaged Erin instead, her only other single and potentially home by herself friend. But the text went unanswered. Given her luck, and Erin’s, Erin was on some hot date who would turn out to be the love of her life.

  God, that smacked of bitterness. Enough. She got up and physically shook herself. Whatever happened with Quinn, she had a full and happy and satisfying life.

  Only, for some reason, telling herself that had tears threatening.

  The thing was, she did have all that. It was more than a lot of people had and she was grateful. But she missed Quinn. It had only been a few days, but she missed her company, her body. And, truthfully, it was more than that. She missed the sense of optimism Quinn seemed to bring into every room she entered, her unflappable sense of adventure. And perhaps most of all, she missed who she was with Quinn—a braver and more carefree version of herself.

  What was worse, being bitter or pathetic? Since it felt like she was pushing the limits of both, probably better not to ask. She carried her empty glass to the kitchen and headed upstairs. Maybe she could read herself to sleep.

  In bed, she managed a chapter before giving in. She picked up her phone. You don’t need to respond, but I wanted you to know I’m thinking about you. She added and deleted I miss you at least five times before sending the message without. No pressure. That was the point.

  She went back to her book. By midnight, she turned the last page and her eyes finally felt heavy. She turned off the lamp, pulled the blankets up, and did her best not to think about the fact that Quinn hadn’t texted her back.

  Chapter Thirty

  Short of a message from Mel herself, getting an email from Daniella was pretty much the last thing on earth Quinn expected. The fact that it included a request to talk only intensified the feeling. Still, she didn’t hesitate for a second before accepting. Because as much as she didn’t want to be in the business of seeking Daniella’s approval or blessing or whatever, she couldn’t imagine a future with Amanda without it.

  When she pulled onto the University of Rochester campus the next day, she realized it was the first time she’d ever done so. After stopping at the visitor booth, she navigated to a parking lot and found a spot. A smaller campus that Cornell, but it had the same mix of old brick buildings covered with ivy and more modern designs. The student union was especially striking, triggering a vague memory that it had been designed by I.M. Pei.

  She chuckled to herself. Once an architect, always an architect.

  She was fifteen minutes early, but Daniella was already waiting for her in the coffee shop where they’d agreed to meet. Despite Daniella’s assurances it wasn’t going to be a bad talk, a tingle of apprehension worked its way down her spine. Daniella stood. “Hey, Quinn.”

  “Hi.” She tried for a friendly smile. “How’s the semester going so far?”

  The question seemed to relax her. “So far, so good. I’m pretty sure organic chemistry is going to be the death of me, but otherwise…”

  She trailed off and Quinn laughed. “I felt that way about my second semester of physics.”

  Daniella shook her head. “Don’t tell me that. I’ve got physics next year.”

  It seemed unlikely Daniella had invited her all this way to discuss her course load, but Quinn wanted her to steer the conversation. “I’m sure you’ll be great.”

  Daniella smiled. “Thanks. Um, can I get you a cup of coffee?”

  “Coffee would be great, but let me get it.”

  The smile turned into a smirk. “Did my mother tell you to say that?”

  “No, it’s a rule of adulthood that when you hang out with college students, you treat.” She hesitated, not sure whether to disclose the rest. “I didn’t tell your mom I was meeting you.”

  That seemed to give her pause, but eventually she nodded. “I appreciate that.”

  Even without her anxiety over this meeting, simple curiosity would be screaming for an explanation at this point. “So, what are you having?”

  A few minutes later, they sat with matching mochas, topped with whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate. If it had been Cal, she could have joked about having similar tastes. But it wasn’t Cal. And she had no sense of whether she was in friendly territory or enemy.

  Daniella took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. The gesture reminded her so much of Amanda when she’d set her mind to something. “First, thank you for driving all this way. I could have met you—”

  Quinn waved a hand. “No worries. I like the drive and I rarely make it up to Rochester.”

  “Still. Thanks.” She stared at her coffee and chewed the inside of her lip for a moment, then looked up and made eye contact with Quinn. “I owe you an apology.”

  Maybe a small part of her thought—hoped—this meeting would be about making peace, but she’d not allowed herself to expect it. “If you’ve been hoping your parents would get back together, I’m sure it was difficult to see your mom dating someone else. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

  “But I do need to apologize for giving M reasons to think that’s what Mom wanted when those reasons didn’t exist.”

  Daniella seemed to be owning a much bigger role in the recent brouhaha than Quinn had believed. “What do you mean?”

  Daniella huffed out a breath. “You know, I never really thought about them getting back together. Mom and M, they never gave off th
at vibe. And then they did and I found out they’d hooked up and I don’t know, I got all caught up in the possibility.”

  Even if it unraveled her chances with Amanda, she could empathize with that longing. Or, at least, she could separate the reality of her broken heart from the kid who wanted her family to be together. “I can see how that might happen.”

  “Yeah. Well,” she paused and frowned. “I shouldn’t have interfered and maybe I ruined everything, but I wanted to try to make it right.”

  “I don’t think you should blame yourself. Grownups get into plenty of trouble all on their own.”

  “But I’m the one who told M she had a chance, should try. I told her Mom said things she didn’t.” She shook her head. “It was stupid and it so backfired.”

  Quinn’s mind raced, wanting to press for enough details to piece everything together. “Does your mom know that?”

  “Not yet. I, uh. I wanted to start with you.”

  It didn’t make sense. “Why?”

  “Because if I can convince you to give her another chance, the whole situation will be a lot less shitty.”

  She wanted a full explanation, but it felt weird being privy to things Amanda didn’t know. Her desire for answers, for hope, won out. “I’m not trying to make you relive it or feel worse, but do you think you could tell me the whole story?”

  Daniella smiled, looking suddenly grownup. “I suppose it’s the least I can do.”

  Quinn sipped her mocha, glad she’d gone for the comfort drink and not the stoic black coffee. “I don’t want you to feel you owe it to me, but I’d like to understand.”

  “For starters, I never liked Bella. To be fair, the feeling is mutual. She might teach college, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like kids, much less teenagers.”

  Quinn tried to swallow a snicker. She knew firsthand being a professor at an Ivy League institution did not require such trivial things as liking students. “I’m sure that was hard.”

  Daniella shrugged dismissively. “It was fine. She mostly steered clear of us.”

  The comment made her realize she had no idea what the custody arrangement was when Cal and Daniella were too young to come and go as they pleased. “Were you at their house a lot?”

  “M had every other weekend and dinner once a week. More routine than a court-ordered thing.”

  It hurt her heart to think about kids even knowing language like court-ordered, but this wasn’t the time to indulge those feelings. “Did they get along, Amanda and Mel?”

  Daniella let out a snort, then schooled her expression. “Sorry. It was, uh, iffy at first. Like, tense conversations in the driveway at drop-off kind of iffy.”

  Amanda had said as much, but given the sleeping together, she’d assumed it was an exaggeration for her benefit. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. So, when M started acting kind of crushy, it was so weird. And then she told me about the affair and asked for my help to win Mom back.”

  “Oh.” She let the word hang, but it failed to capture the extent of her feelings.

  Daniella rolled her eyes. “Exactly.”

  Half an hour later, everything made sense. Well, as much sense as such a convoluted situation could make. And it changed, not everything, but a lot. For the first time in weeks—or if she was being honest, maybe ever—she didn’t worry that being with Amanda would be a source of friction with her family. Mel had overplayed her hand, at the encouragement of her daughter who now seemed to genuinely regret her role in the whole thing. She’d thought things were complicated. And now that word felt almost painfully inadequate.

  But even with all the explaining, one question loomed large in her mind. “So, what are you hoping happens?”

  Daniella sighed. “I guess I hope you two do the happily ever after thing.”

  It was a big statement, much bigger than she needed to make if her goal was simply to make peace. “That’s a tall order.”

  “I mean, if that’s what you want. It’s up to you.” She lifted both hands. “I’m officially done with interfering.”

  The assertion made Quinn think of her sisters, her friends, and all the well-meaning meddlers in her life. “If that’s a lesson you can learn at your age, you’re ahead of the curve.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to take her back?”

  She smiled at the choice of phrase. “I think it’s a little more complicated than that.”

  Daniella grinned. “It won’t be by the time I’m done with her.”

  If part of her wanted to point out the contradiction in that logic, it was eclipsed by her very real longing to win Amanda back. Or take her back. Whatever. The prospect of having another chance made her giddy. She reined it in. She and Amanda still needed to have a very long talk if they had any hope of making things work. Still, it felt like maybe they were going to get the chance to have that talk. “Thank you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m just trying to fix what I broke in the first place.”

  Daniella’s machinations had certainly made things more difficult, but they hadn’t been the sole reason for the current state of affairs. She’d allowed her own insecurities about being interesting enough, exciting enough, get in the way. Even Amanda played a part, omitting details that had the potential to rock the boat. She shook her head. “You didn’t break anything.”

  Daniella gave her an incredulous look, once again looking so very much like Amanda.

  Quinn raised a hand. “I’m not saying you didn’t make them messier. But it wasn’t all your doing.”

  “Thanks for saying that. I feel better.”

  She reached across the table and gave Daniella’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks for being such an adult and owning you made a mistake.”

  Daniella took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders and then letting them drop. “Do you want a tour of campus while you’re here? There are some really cool buildings.”

  Almost more than the apology, the invitation made her think there was hope for them after all. “That would be fantastic. And then I’d be happy to do a Wegmans or a Target run or whatever if you need anything.”

  Daniella lifted her chin. “You’re getting good at this.”

  Quinn didn’t know if she meant spending time with college students or something else, but she didn’t care. The prospect of spending time together, just the two of them, made her happy. “I try.”

  By the time she was alone in her car and driving south, she and Daniella had wandered campus and gone to dinner together. The only thing giving her pause was the fact that Amanda had no idea what was going on. But Daniella promised to call her immediately and fill her in. Quinn wanted to ask for a report, but it felt like maybe too much to ask. Well, that and a bit insecure. Since the whole point was not to let herself be ruled by that, she refrained. She’d talk with Amanda soon enough and, hopefully, clear the air once and for all. But first, groceries.

  You should call Mom. Or go over. :)

  The text from Cal came just as she got in line with her basket of coffee, cream, and a frozen pizza. Is everything okay?

  Yes. D wanted to text you but didn’t have your number.

  Oh. That meant Daniella had spoken with Amanda. She tamped down the jolt of nerves. If Cal and Daniella wanted her to go to Amanda’s, it had to be good, right? Before she could logic her way through that, her phone rang. Amanda’s smiling face appeared on the screen. She stepped out of line, not wanting to be that person, and answered. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Despite the uncertainty in Amanda’s voice, the sound sent a warm tingle through her. Only a week had gone by without hearing it, but the effect was like a drink of water after days in the desert. “I hear you spent the day with Daniella.”

  “I did. She’s quite a remarkable young woman.”

  “That’s generous of you, all things considered.”

  “I might not love what she did, but I understand why she did it.” She paused, wondering if Amanda was going to ask her over, but decided not to wait. “Are you free
now? I think we should probably talk.”

  She could hear Amanda take a deep breath on the other end of the line. “I’d like that. Do you want to come here? Or I can come to you?”

  “I’m already out and about. I’ll come to you.” She looked down at her basket. “I’m at the store, actually. Do you need anything?”

  “Just you.”

  Short of I love you, she couldn’t think of words she’d rather hear. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Amanda drummed her fingers on the kitchen island, then gave in to the urge to pace. Again. After a couple of minutes, she sat. Again. How long could thirty minutes take?

  This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. Or, at the very least, dramatic. Quinn was coming over to talk, not have a knock-down, drag-out fight. If anything, this might be their chance to make up.

  Not that they were fighting, really. They’d just not spoken in a week. And the whole situation made her feel as precarious as her first attempt at a wedding cake.

  The problem was that Quinn was so unlike Mel. Yet, Mel was her only real frame of reference when it came to relationships. Quinn’s quiet resignation left her uneasy and unsure.

  Now she had to navigate Daniella’s revelation. It didn’t make any difference in how her heart leaned, but it might influence Quinn. But would it ultimately make Quinn more inclined to give them a chance, or less?

  She’d just stalked away from the front door when the knock came. She spun around and hurried to open it, as if a second of hesitation might send Quinn running in the opposite direction. She yanked open the door, half expecting to have to chase her down the sidewalk.

  But instead of a hasty retreat, Quinn stood there, perfectly still. Not statue stiff, but with that aura of calm about her. Only in that moment did she realize how used to Quinn’s energy she’d become. A sigh escaped her.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Oh, my God. No. I didn’t mean it like that. I was—”

  “I’m kidding.”

  Cripes. She was wound tighter than a, well, something wound really tight. “Sorry.”