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“Sometime,” he said, “I’m going to do it romantically. That’s a promise.”
“So what was the … question?” She was all but falling asleep. She always seemed to be running on a higher-voltage battery than anybody else, but now, the battery was running down. He held her a little tighter on the thought.
“What we’re doing here,” he said. “Whether we’re dating. And dating anybody else.”
“Oh,” she said. “I don’t seem to want to date anybody else. But we’re not exactly … dating.” She yawned. “Sorry. I think I’m falling asleep. I didn’t sleep … too well last night.” She struggled to sit, blinked a few times, hauled herself off the bed and walked around the attic gathering clothes and showing him that body, and said, “I need to go to bed. I have … running in the morning.”
He said, “One second.” She blinked her peat-bog eyes at him sleepily, shivered a little in the cold air, and held her clothes against her naked body, which looked like it had been carved from some stone finer than the stuff he was made of—limestone, maybe. The polished kind. He zipped his jeans—he’d never even managed to get his boots off—and said, “We need to fix that. Dating.”
“Oh. Do you think we can talk about it tomorrow? Sorry. I’m just—”
“Yeah,” he said. “I know. I could come down and sleep with you, but …”
“Probably not,” she said. “Even if we set an alarm. Pretty confusing situation for the kids. I mean,I’mconfused, and I’m supposed to be an adult, and also reasonably competent. I’ll see you tomorrow. After running. Ten or so.”
“Fine.” What else could he say? He stood up himself and went to gather his tools. The compound was hardening on them, and he needed to clean them while he still could. “See you in the morning.”
35
MOVING FORWARD
Quinn had barely started stretching when Martin hopped out of the car with Ezra, hustled over, and asked, “So how was the date? Did I do great or what? Fourth time’s the charm, I figured. And, yes, Joel Leeming wasn’t the best choice—you never know until you actually go out with the guy, and I’ll tell you sometime aboutmyhorrific dates. It’ll curl your hair—but George is so funny, he should really be gay.” He broke off, possibly because of the look on Quinn’s face. “Wait. Heisgay? Sorry, not possible. My gaydar isexcellent.”
“Could be bi,” Terrell said, stretching his quads beside Quinn. “That can be hard to read.”
“Banker,” Martin said.
“Well, yeah,” Terrell said.
“OK, no,” Quinn said. “Are we running here, or yapping? Let’s go.” And headed up the trail. She was stiff, and still pretty tired, too—she could’ve slept nine hours last night, and had ended up with more like six—but she’d feel better once she gutted this out. She’d feel—
Well, probably still nervous. Butlessnervous.
Roxanne, who was right behind her, asked, “So you had another date last night? And he was gay? I swear it looked to me like Beckett—”
Quinn slowed down. “Martin,” she called, “get up here.”
Martin yelled back, “I’m… trying.”With some puffing. Oh. She’d probably started out a little fast. She jogged in place until he joined them—fortunately, this trail was wide and not too steep—and said, “OK. Everybody’s here, right? Everybody who takes a bizarre level of interest in my love life? Martin, go in front of me so I know I’m not running too fast.”
“That’s hardly humiliating at all,” he said. “No wonder you’re such a hit with the boys.” But he did it.
Try to see it like writing a brief. Present the information logically and forget the emotion. You do need help, and to get it, you need to tell them.“First,” she said, “George Vandergriff is straight. I’m pretty sure he’sjuststraight, but who knows? My gaydarisn’texcellent. I’m telling you that because he might start running with us. He’s pretty cute, Terrell. And kind of … wry and ironic and maybe a little sweet. Also, Martin’s right. Very funny. I laughed likecrazy.”
“Now you’re just making me want him,” Terrell complained. “What’s he doing in Montana?”
“He likes the outdoors,” Quinn said. “I’m not sure he’s finding the culture hospitable, though.”
“All right,” Martin said, “so we fix his love life, too, if he shows up. Which doesn’t answer the important question.”
“What’s that?” Quinn asked.
“Why’d you throw him back? You did, didn’t you?”
“Oh. Uh, well …”
“Iknewit,” Roxanne said. “I’malwaysright. It’s so awkward, when you’re going through some couple’s real-estate contract and you know they’re going to be right back again in about three years because they’re divorcing and need to figure out how to split the place up. I should really be a marriage counselor instead. Unfortunately, they don’t make enough, and I’m too bougie not to care.”
“Excuse me,” Martin said, “who said it first? Me. Did I need to set Quinn up, at great cost of time and energy, by the way, withfourmen, if she’s already found one?”
