“Wednesday is my next night off.” I’ve already decided I’ll take him somewhere special and unusual.
“It’s a date.”
I curse as I step into a deep puddle. Water splashes up my leg. Walking in a park in the dark after heavy rain is a bad idea. I look around as Quinn tugs me to a halt. He lets go of my hand and picks up a sturdy twig from the path’s edge. I realise we’re standing next to a patch of mud beneath the branches of an oak tree. It explains why there’s no grass. Quinn crouches and uses the twig to make marks in the mud. I watch, captivated, as a picture takes shape before my eyes. The moonlight illuminates the peaks and troughs Quinn is creating in the mud. When he eventually stands and steps back, I forget how to breathe.
“It’s me.”
It’s a simple drawing yet unmistakably of me.
He grins. “When life gives you mud, create art.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and take two photos, with and without flash. Neither truly conveys how beautiful the drawing is. The one without the flash is too dark to see the entire picture. The one with the flash flattens the mud out and adds streaks of light.
Quinn looks over my shoulder as I flick between the two photos, satisfied with neither.
“It’s supposed to be transient,” he says quietly. “Not everything can be captured. You have to appreciate some things in the moment and then let go.” He nudges my elbow. “Like sex.” He grabs hold of my arm and clings to it as he rests against my back.
My jaw becomes slack. “I was not expecting you to say that.”
“Would you have preferred it if I’d said like lemonade?” Quinn’s words are slurred together, but I can understand them easily enough.
I snort. “That would have fitted with your earlier butchering of the saying.”
His voice is back to normal. He lets go of my arm and stops leaning on me.
I put my phone away, face him, put one hand on his hip, and play with his hair. “I prefer what you said the first time.”
Quinn lifts his chin and stares into my eyes. “I’ve had a good time tonight. Thank you.” He looks weary despite his smile.
“Time to go home?”
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” I kiss him softly. “I’ve had a great time too.”
* * *
I make sure I’m up before Beau and Fraser leave the house for work. I find them in the kitchen, eating breakfast and drinking coffee together. Beau is wearing a navy-blue pinstripe suit with a matching tie, and Fraser has a peach-coloured suit on, with an ankle-length skirt and a lemon blouse.
Beau waves as I walk into the kitchen. “You’re up early.”
I help myself to the leftover coffee in the machine. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Beau’s lips pinch into a concerned line. “It must be urgent.”
“No, not really.” I inhale. “If I tell you now, I’m less likely to change my mind.”
“Please put him out of his misery.” Fraser kisses Beau’s cheek.
I lift the coffee cup and enjoy the heavy-bodied taste. I instantly pick up the earthy and sweet tones, along with hints of tobacco, wood, chocolate, and nuts. “Monsoon Malabar. Good choice.”
“How do you do that?” Fraser asks.
“Practise.” I shrug.
“He’s a coffee connoisseur,” Beau says.
“Have I ever told you what makes this coffee so unique?” I ask Fraser.
