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“We didn’t use a condom.”
I don’t like them—I never have—and the last time I used one was over ten years ago before Bailey went on the pill. I’m hoping like hell that she’s on some form of birth control, and if she’s not, I’ll have to use it until we can get her on something. Now that I’ve fucked her, I can’t see myself stopping, but I also don’t want to take the chance of a pregnancy. Just the thought of it is like being plunged into a bucket of cold water in the middle of winter.
“I’m on the pill,” she says, and the relief her words bring is almost tangible. “And I haven’t been with anyone since my college boyfriend and I broke up.”
Growling, I roll on top of her, snagging both her hands with mine. “While we’re in this bed, there will be no talk about other men. Dropping my head, I take her lips with mine, plunging my tongue into her mouth. This night is not over. Not by a long shot.
*****
BAILEY
SURPRISED TOfind our apartment empty, I check my phone for a message, but my screen is blank. It’s been a while since the boy’s night ended, so he should be home. Biting my lip, I call him, but it rings through and goes to voicemail. Tapping my phone against my lip, I ponder my options. My knee-jerk reaction is to get mad, but this is not what I want tonight to be about. So, moving on to Plan B.
I’m in and out of the shower in record time, and after a brief hesitation, I put on the negligee that I wore on our wedding night. Might just as well go for broke. Desperate times and all that.
I strategically position several of Scarlett’s candles throughout the lounge and light them. After making a few small tweaks, I settle onto the couch, pleased with the mood it creates.
And then I wait. And wait. A glance at my phone shows still no messages from Quinn. Aidan texted Hannah at least an hour ago. He should be home by now.
I’m about ready to blow out the candles and admit defeat when Quinn walks in. He hesitates at the door, his eyes taking in the room before landing on me.
“What’s all this?”
I think it’s obvious what it is, so I don’t answer him. I don’t want to demand where he’s been or ask why he’s walking in hours after boy’s night ended. But I’m pissed. Pissed beyond comprehension that once again I’m in a position where I have to ask. And suddenly I’m tired. So damn tired of feeling this way. So I don’t say a thing. I get up to blow out the candles, suddenly feeling ridiculous in this negligee.
I feel his eyes on me as I blow out the last candle. When I turn to look at him, he hasn’t moved from his spot at the door.
“I’m not your keeper, Quinn. I can’t force you to come home. I don’t want to force you to come home to me. Tell me, do you even still love me?”
“You know I do. Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Because Idon’tknow. Most days it doesn’t feel like you do.” My sigh feels like it comes from the deepest part of me. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
The silence between us lengthens, thickens, and when it becomes unbearable, I turn and head to our bedroom. I swap out my negligee for a set of my everyday pj’s and crawl into bed. Not long after, Quinn comes in and steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Seems that’s a new thing. Closed doors between us.
I’m staring at the ceiling when he finally slides in next to me. It’s dark, and I’m glad. I don’t want him to see the sorrow welling in my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Bails,” he whispers. He doesn’t move closer to me. In fact, he doesn’t touch me at all. He lies on his back, staring at the ceiling, mirroring me. The open space between us feels as vast as an ocean. “I bumped into Craig from college. He wanted to go for a drink to catch up, and I lost track of time.”
He’s silent for a few beats, no doubt waiting for me to offer him absolution, but I don’t. “If I knew you had something special planned, I would have been here earlier.”
“It’s fine, Quinn.” I turn on my side, facing the wall. Anything is better than having to look at him.
It’s amazing how much a sigh can convey. Annoyance, irritation, displeasure, aggravation. His sigh as he rolls to his side conveys all of those.
CHAPTER EIGHT
KALLAN
BAILEY’S BEENunusually quiet tonight. Our evening walks have become the highlight of my day—some days, the only thing I look forward to. Fucking pathetic, and it’s got me thinking that maybe it’s time to reevaluate my life. I was comfortable and content in the monotony of everyday life, but since meeting her, bit by bit, dissatisfaction has crept in, making me wish for something different for the first time in a long time.
Sighing, I cut my eyes to her. “Penny for your thoughts?”
Her smile is a barely there thing, and my concern for her deepens. When we first met, when she smiled, her eyes smiled too. Now, just like my dissatisfaction, there’s a heaviness that’s crept into her eyes, dimming their usual sparkle.
“Sorry, I’m not good company tonight,” she sighs.
Our talks on these walks are never about anything serious, but they give me glimpses—little windows—into who Bailey is, and the more I see, the more I want to know.
