Page 76 of Clinically Awkward

“I have a cousin in Canada⁠—”

“Quinton, listen to me⁠—”

“This is a TERRIBLE idea⁠—”

“You’re going to ruin everything⁠—”

“Julien’s going to kill you⁠—”

“We can still fix this⁠—”

The voices overlapped, a cacophony of panic and desperation and increasingly ridiculous escape plans that ranged from “fake your own death” to “move to Argentina.”

I stood there, frozen, watching Quinton’s face. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. Didn’t even blink. He just stood there, jaw set, shoulders squared, looking like a man who had already made peace with his fate.

“Quinton,” Gabriel said, stepping forward. “You don’t have to do this. Not today. Not like this.”

“I do,” Quinton said quietly.

“No, you really don’t,” Nathan argued. “You could just, I don’t know... not tell him? Keep it a secret? Live in blissful denial for the rest of your life?”

“That’s not an option.”

“It’s absolutely an option,” Fitz said. “A perfectly viable option. I’ve been living in denial for years. It’s quite comfortable.”

“Fitz.”

“I’m serious. Denial is underrated. You should try it.”

“I’m not living in denial.”

“You’re about to live in a coffin,” Hayden muttered.

Quinton took a breath, then looked at me. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to see the resolve in his eyes, the quiet determination that made my chest ache, and then he turned and walked toward Julien’s office.

“Quinton!” Gabriel loudly whispered.

But he was already gone. The door to Julien’s office opened and then closed. And we were left standing there in the lobby, staring at the shut door like it was the entrance to a tomb.

“Well,” Fitz said after a long moment. “That’s that, then.”

“He’s dead,” Nathan said flatly.

“Completely dead,” Gabriel agreed.

“Should we start planning the funeral?” Hayden asked.

I bit down harder on my thumbnail, my heart pounding.

This is it. This is the moment. Quinton is in there right now, telling Julien that he slept with me, and Julien is going to—What? Rage? Yell? Throw something? No, Julien didn’t rage. Julien didn’t yell. Julien got quiet. Which was somehow worse.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Nathan asked.

“Five minutes,” Gabriel said. “Maybe ten if Julien lectures him about professionalism.”

“Or twenty if he murders him slowly,” Fitz added.

“Can we not joke about murder right now?” I snapped.