Page 59 of What We Got Wrong

Quinn pulled up the agenda on her phone. “Yeah, I think so? They announced the meet-and-greet with Rhea for this afternoon. I’d like to swing through if we get the chance, but we don’t technically need to be back until 3:00 PM for the tech check before our workshop tomorrow.”

Mel nodded in response, and they walked together down the hallway, through the lobby, and out the hotel doors into the chilly Chicago air.

Mel took the lead as they made their way quietly down the street, walking several blocks before she stopped in front of a small café on the corner. “Is this okay?”

“Sure,” Quinn answered, following Mel inside, where she was engulfed in the smell of grease and steaming pancakes. They were escorted to a booth near the window, and as they took their seats, Quinn asked, “How did you find this place?”

“I mean, the internet exists, Q,” Mel said. “I searched for brunch options within walking distance of the hotel.”

Quinn just nodded, because…really? This was the conversation they were having? She could tell that Mel was trying to work her way up to something, but there hadn’t been many moments in their friendship that they’d struggled to communicate. Sure, they butted heads at work sometimes. Building a business was difficult, and, like all startups, they’d gone through highs and lows getting on their feet, but they’d always tried to work through disagreements together. Quinn believed Prism was stronger because of it.

But outside of work, at least before this week, their friendship hadn’t been tested. They’d bonded pretty instantly upon meeting, as the two visibly queer people in their grad school cohort, and, excepting the day or two after their almost hookup, there had never been any awkwardness between them.

But this was uncomfortable.

They each ordered coffee and food, a breakfast sandwich for Quinn and a stack of pancakes for Mel, and then they just sat there, averting their eyes, Mel playing with her napkin, tearing into strips.

“This is painful,” Mel said. Quinn nodded again. “We should talk about last night.”

Quinn waited, hoping that Mel would start, but when her friend went quiet again, she huffed. “Not sure what you want me to say here, bud.”

“Ugh, I know, I know,” Mel replied. She closed her eyes tightly before shaking her head, as if trying to force the words out. “I’m sorry. I should have told you that I had invited them. It was not cool to spring that on you.”

Quinn raised her eyebrows. “Another option would have been to not invite them in the first place.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mel replied. “But I don’t think I’m sorry about that, honestly.”

Quinn sputtered, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I think you came here for a reason, Quinn,” Mel said softly. “I know it was a good opportunity for Prism, and we’re, what, halfway through the week and I already think it was worth it.”

“I agree,” Quinn said simply.

“But we didn’t need to come here,” Mel continued. “We have a solid book of business through the end of this year. We can certainly accommodate more, and I’m excited to see where things go with all the contacts we’ve been making here, but it’s not like we were in danger of shutting down if we didn’t do something drastic.”

She wasn’t wrong. Prism had been doing well. They’d even talked briefly about hiring someone to help with the administrative side of things, maybe someone who could grow into a consultant or trainer as they kept expanding the business.

“You were, like, circling each other,” Mel said. “I know I don’t understand the history between you two, but the Rhea Stewart thing just… I’m not trying to make excuses. But y’all have some things you need to work out, and I think that you want to, on some level. Like… Isn’t that why we’re here?”

Again, Mel wasn’t wrong; of course she wasn’t. “I will admit that I was hoping to see her.”

“I know it doesn’t excuse the sneak attack I pulled last night,” Mel said. “But, since you pulled a giant sneak attack on me with this whole thing, can we call it even?”

Quinn rolled her eyes, although, big picture, she figured she might be getting off easy. As their waitress set their food down, Quinn said, “I suppose that sounds fair.”

Mel deflated, letting out a deep breath, relaxing for the first time that Quinn had seen that day. “Thank you. I really am sorry. My intention was not to hurt you.”

“I know,” Quinn replied.

“And I can talk to her about giving you space,” Mel offered. “If that’s what you want.”

“I don’t think that's necessary,” Quinn said, clearing her throat. When Mel just looked confused, she added, “We talked, actually.”

Her friend, who’d maintained a stoic demeanor up until this part of their meal, smirked. “When?”

“She showed up at my hotel room this morning,” Quinn answered with a slight shrug.

“Tell me more, tell me more,” Mel replied, the friendly, taunting tone returning to her voice. She cradled her own cheeks between her hands and fluttered her eyelashes. “Are y’all going to go steady again?”