Riley nodded slowly and braced herself to confess. If she wanted to tell Quinn the truth, now was the time. “That night when you saw me on the dating app…” She took a deep breath and a long sip of her beer before she continued. “As I said, I was curious.”
“I know.”
“The reason I became curious…is because I met you.”
Quinn’s breath visibly hitched, and her eyes darkened. “You must have met gay women before.”
“Of course. But I’ve never met a gay woman I felt attracted to.” Riley swallowed hard. “I’m very, very attracted to you, Quinn.”
“Oh.” Quinn parted her lips as she glanced at Riley’s mouth, and for a second, Riley was convinced Quinn was going to kiss her. “So it’s mutual.”
“Uh-huh.” Riley waited for her to come closer, to make a move. Because if Quinn kissed her now, she would kiss her back like she’d never kissed anyone before. She held her breath in the long silence that followed, then muttered, “Please say something.”
Quinn bit her lip and frowned as she studied her intently. “Are you sure about this? Because we’re friends, and—”
“Yes,” she interrupted her. She felt much braver now that the truth was out. “I’m sure.”
A flash of desire passed over Quinn’s features, but still, she didn’t move. “I want you too,” she whispered. “But I need you to think about this.” She took Riley’s hand and squeezed it. “Because I don’t want to ruin what we have over a one-night stand.”
“Isn’t that your thing, though? Casual?” Riley realized she’d just given herself away. “I read your dating profile,” she admitted.
“I knew it.” Quinn smiled teasingly. “But casual is not what I want with you. Is it whatyouwant?”
Riley thought about that. Whatdidshe want? Quinn was right; they were friends, and she didn’t want a meaningless fling to ruin their friendship either. What she felt was far from meaningless, though; it was a yearning that kept her awake at night, a longing for something unknown that already felt familiar. She had a burning desire for a woman she barely knew, yet this woman understood her like no one else.
“No. I don’t want casual,” she said, meeting Quinn’s eyes. They were beautiful, sincere, and seductive, those eyes, and they made her lose her train of thought each time she looked into them.
“Then you need to give yourself some time because these feelings are very new to you.” Quinn paused. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Riley nodded, but starving for a taste of Quinn, her hungry body protested. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll think about it.”
28
QUINN
There was so much to go through, and unsure where to start, Quinn had randomly picked five more boxes to take upstairs to her old bedroom. The first three she’d gone through last night had contained her baby memorabilia, her brother’s baby photos, and trinkets that held little value but were hugely sentimental, such as souvenirs from her grandparents’ travels and their favorite coffee mugs. There was a story behind every item, and she knew them all. Her grandfather had bored her to tears when she was younger, but now she cherished the silly trinkets, and she’d shared the stories with Riley.
She’d chosen her old bedroom because she felt most comfortable here, and she loved the view from the window over the yard and the river. She’d brought one of her decorator’s folding tables over, borrowed a chair from the kitchen, and screwed a brighter light bulb into the ceiling fixture. All in all, she was prepared for a long week of sorting through her family history after work.
Opening the first box of the day, she jumped back when a big spider crawled out of it, and she carefully opened it farther to make sure there wasn’t a spider’s nest inside. What she found was old paperwork from the seventies. Title deeds to land in Nevada, which she assumed had been sold at the time of her grandfather’s bankruptcy, real estate certificates, and contracts with hotel chains, some in her great-grandfather’s name. She divided them into piles, then moved on to the next box.
This one was filled with photo albums dating all the way back to 1940. Her great-grandparents’ wedding photos, photos of the land on which Aster House was built, then some more that were taken during the build. She took her time and smiled as she looked through them. There were baby photos of her great-grandparents on holiday and of their little family of three posing in front of a Christmas tree. The first picture of them in front of Aster House was dated 01/08/1943, and they looked so young and happy. Her great-grandmother was wearing a floral dress, and her husband was in his Sunday best, holding his son—Quinn’s grandfather—who was two years old.
“I thought you could use a coffee.” Riley came in and put a mug of steaming brew on the folding table.
“Thank you. But you don’t need to cater for me.”
“I want to, and besides, I’m curious.” Riley leaned in over her shoulder to look at the photo album. “Who are these people?”
Quinn shivered at her nearness. After their confessions last night, something had changed between them. Casual touches were no longer casual, and harmless flirting had taken on a new meaning.
“That’s my great-grandmother, Simone Kendall, and that’s my great-grandfather, Frank Kendall. The baby is my grandfather, Arthur Kendall.” Quinn pointed them out. Although the colors in the photograph were faded, the lilac of the asters surrounding the house stood out in the picture. “It’s sweet, isn’t it?”
“It’s a beautiful picture,” Riley agreed. “I see what you meant about the asters now. But why did they hide the albums down there? Surely, the bailiffs would have allowed them to keep them as they have no value other than of the sentimental kind.”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense.” Quinn had asked herself that question already. Even if her grandparents didn’t have the storage space in the small apartment they moved to after being evicted, she’d expected them to at least take their photo albums. “We all wondered what had happened to these after my grandfather passed away. My grandmother already suffered from dementia by the time my grandfather died, so we couldn’t ask her. She still has her few bright moments, but it’s not enough to ask detailed questions. Things just come to her randomly.”
“She might remember something if you show her the pictures,” Riley said. “You said she was in a home, right?”
