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In short: he’d focus on the story, not on the woman.
Simple,
right?
Sure. Like running one of Troy’s triathlons. He’d lace up his discount-store sneakers and go.
Marie sat in her usual spot in the Roots Cellar; the only patron at the bar that early, though a few of the tables were occupied. She was enjoying one of those delicious early signs that spring was actually going to show up some month—
daylight still in evidence through the glass wall at the far end of the room. Milwaukee’s skyline across the river, modest by big-city standards but beautiful to her native gaze, remained visible. Could warmer temperatures and melted snow be far behind?
Unfortunately, yes, they could.
Her cell rang; she took a hurried sip of her martini—gin with a twist in honor of Quinn’s favorite—before she dug out her phone. Invariably a call at this hour, shortly after five, meant trouble at the office. Friends knew to call later in the evening when Marie had had time to shake off the day’s pressures and relax.
It was Candy.
“Hey, woman.” She smiled with relief. Even if Candy was calling with a problem, she’d be reasonable about any proposed solution, unlike some of Marie’s pricklier clients. “How was your date with Justin last night? I’ve been dying to know of course, but didn’t want to be nosy. Or at least admit how nosy I am.”
“It was… Oh, gosh.”
Marie’s left eyebrow rose. Oh, gosh? Was that bliss or anguish? Funny how sometimes there seemed to be a fine line.
“Good ‘oh, gosh’ or bad ‘oh, gosh’?”
“Both ‘oh, gosh.’”
“‘Oh, gosh’ indeed.” Marie frowned at her Roots napkin.
Candy had to be really rattled not to launch into her usual chatter. “Tell me more.”
“Well.” She sighed. “I mean it was great. He was great.
But then at the end he wanted…he kissed me, really, really, and then he left after no.”
Marie narrowed her eyes, trying to make heads or tails of that one. A great time followed by a good-night kiss? Sounded like first-date perfection to her.
“Okay, but—” In her peripheral vision she saw Quinn reaching the bottom of the stairs, in jeans today with a casual shirt. Second time she’d seen him in as many visits. If he sat at the bar as he usually did, they’d be the only two there. She forced her attention back to Candy. “I’m missing the bad ‘oh, gosh.’”
“The leaving part.”
“You didn’t want him to leave? The date wasn’t over?”
“He invited himself in. I almost said yes.”
Marie’s eyes shot wide; she let out a blast of laughter. “Way to go, Candy!”
“But I didn’t. And he left.”
Marie couldn’t stop grinning. She’d suffered watching Candy clinging to a relationship with Drippy Chuck, trying to please him by tamping down every fabulous internal fire she had. After the breakup, Marie worried Candy would never get over him, or worse, that Chuck’s next victim would rebel against his control, he’d come oozing around again and suck Candy back into the suffocating safety of being what he wanted her to be.
Having escaped her own disastrous marriage, Marie had no trouble recognizing guys who wanted their girlfriends/spouses only as reflections of their own self-perceived glory. Which was one reason Quinn intrigued her. Instinct kept telling her he didn’t quite fit the mold. “What matters is you considered having sex with someone. Even better, you wanted to. At the same time, you recognized it was probably too soon with this guy and you stood your ground. I am so proud of you.”
“Oh.” Candy sounded doubtful. “I didn’t think about it that way.”
A few chairs down from her, Quinn sat and greeted Joe the bartender. Marie couldn’t not notice him; he had that kind of magnetism. Same as Darcy. The two of them would spontaneously combust just being in the same room.
“There are all kinds of reasons he could have left abruptly.
Doesn’t necessarily mean he doesn’t want to see you again.
Maybe he was embarrassed, or reliving some other rejection.
Remember he put himself out there asking to come in.”
