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For the first time, I wish he was working late. That I could get into bed and just revel in the carefree feeling I had tonight. God, I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much. It was so nice to just let my hair down and forget my empty existence for a while. I know reality will catch up to me, but not yet. But it seems that luck has deserted me tonight because he follows me to the bedroom.
“Of course, it matters. You’re my wife. The store closed hours ago and I worried.”
“Right,” I say with a chuckle.
“Why is that funny?”
“It’s funny because you say you were worried. You haven’t worried about what I get up to in, oh, I don’t know, forever. Most nights, I could be lying in a ditch somewhere, and you wouldn’t be worried. You’d actually have to think about me to be worried about me.”
Okay, maybe I did drink a bit too much. But I’m also annoyed. The one night he comes home early and I’m not here, he’s got questions.
“Wait, have you been drinking?”
“Yup,” A shower sounds amazing, so I walk into the bathroom, Quinn hot on my heels. “Imagine that,” I say, widening my eyes.
“What the hell has gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” I chuckle again, turning on the shower. “Nothing has gotten into me in a looooong time.” Too long, in fact. I’m not even thirty, and the only way I get any kind of action is if I use Vlad. At least he’s never let me down. And now I kinda want to listen to Depeche Mode. Can’t go wrong with a classic eighties song.
I finally turn to Quinn and take him in. For a change, it doesn’t hurt looking at him. Instead, I feel…nothing.
“Who did you go with?”
“Oh, nobody you’d know. I was out ‘networking’.” That’s the phrase he uses when he gets home late, reeking of booze.
“Bookstore owners do not need to network,” he scoffs.
“Oh, sorry. My bad.” Tonight, he can say what he wants. I don’t care. He can stick his condescension up his ass for all I care. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m about to have a shower. You can close the door on your way out.”
“What’s going on with you? This isn’t like you.”
I shrug because he’s right. Normal me would be home, waiting for him to come home, wondering and stressing about us. But I don’t want to be her tonight. I want to be,I don’t give a fuck about anything Baileytonight. Tomorrow will come soon enough. So I don’t say anything, instead giving him a pointed look. There’s no way I’m getting naked in front of him.
After an epic stare-down—one I could see between two gunslingers in the Wild West—he makes a sound of frustration and spins on his heels.
“Oh, and Vlad and I have a date tonight, so unless you feel like watching, I’d suggest sleeping on the couch,” I call to the sound of the bathroom door slamming.
*****
I DRAG MYSELFout of bed, cursing the throbbing behind my eyes. I should have stuck with just beer. I shouldn’t have let Andrew twist my rubber arm when he lined up shots.
When I finally stumble into the kitchen, Quinn’s there, perfectly put together as usual, sipping a cup of coffee.
He watches in silence as I reach the holy grail, pouring myself a cup. I debate briefly whether I want to sit at the table, but all the questions I can see brimming in his eyes have me making a beeline back to the bedroom. Not now, satan.
“Bailey—”
I throw up my hand. Quid pro quo, Quinn. If I can’t say anything, neither can you. It’s a fair exchange.
Wrapped in a towel, my hair dripping down my back, I feel a million times better when I step into the room. Amazing what a cup of coffee, two Advil, and finding my backbone can do. No matter how much my head hurts, it’s satisfying that, for once, I wasn’t the one waiting at home. To be the one who doesn’t need to question. I should have known that my happiness would be short-lived.
“I have a conference I need to attend next weekend.”
I look over to where Quinn’s standing in the doorway, his keys in hand.
“That’s short notice.” Normally he knows about these things months in advance.
“I know. I wasn’t going to go, but management said the company needs representation, so tag you’re it.” He shrugs.
