“Oh, I don’t know. I took her at her word, that she wanted to give us privacy. But what if seeing us together broke her heart?” She let out a low moan. “Oh goodness. Oh dear. She did that for me. She—she sacrificed for me.”
Hope rose from his heart and threatened to fill his head, but he tamped it down. “We don’t know that for sure.”
“I got in the way. It’s all my fault.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I never told her how I feel, and if she’s interested in me, she never told me either.” Except with one luscious kiss.
“That’s my fault too.” She pressed her hand to her forehead, the handkerchief draped over her eyes. “When I was in Chicago, she talked about you so much in her letters, I asked if anything was happening between you. She said she didn’t think so because you didn’t act like you did around me in high school.”
Jim’s jaw clenched. “You mean, I didn’t act like a fool.”
Quintessa nodded. “I told her if you were interested, everyone in town would know because you wear your emotions on your sleeve.”
“Not anymore, I don’t.” If only he had.
“Oh dear. There’s more. You’re going to hate me. You’re both going to hate me.” She slid the handkerchief over her eyes. “I lied to her. When you told me you’d kissed her, I was jealous and angry, and I acted like a spoiled brat. I wanted to test her. So I ... I told her you’d kissed me too. I told myself it wasn’t really a lie, because you’d kissed me on the forehead, but it was a lie, a peevish little lie.”
Jim puffed air into his cheeks. Mary definitely thought he and Quintessa were an item.
“Oh, Jim, I’m so sorry. I made a mess of things.”
“So did I. Believe me, the mess is all my fault.”
“Ready to order?” The waitress stood next to the table.
“I’m not hungry.” Quintessa looked at Jim, misery in her eyes. “And you need to find Mary and talk to her right now.”
Jim gave the waitress a sheepish look. “Sorry. Just coffee.”
She rolled her eyes and strode away. “Coffee don’t pay the rent, pal.”
Jim slipped out three dollars, more than he would have paid for lunch, then set his hand on Quintessa’s arm. “Stay as long as you want, and—and thanks.”
“Tell her I’m sorry. Please?”
“I will.” But he had other things to say first.
Jim jogged down the street to the subway station. People clogged the stairwell, he couldn’t find the right change, the ticket lady took her sweet time, and he missed the train.
The next train took even sweeter time. Then it stopped in North Station far longer than necessary, and the conductor apologized for the delay but wouldn’t explain, and Jim seriously considered walking the rest of the way.
When the train inched into City Square Station, Jim couldn’t find a cab, so he marched up the hill to Mary’s apartment.
Now that he wanted to make waves, he didn’t want to wait a minute longer. But what to tell her and how?
If only he could just kiss her and let his lips do the talking. But since she thought he was Quintessa’s boyfriend, a kiss would make the situation even messier. No, he had to talk.
Floating had always seemed easiest, but this time he’d floated onto the rocks. Quintessa and Mary had charted his course, and he’d let them. No more of that.
Jim pounded on the apartment door, his breath white in front of him.
Yvette opened the door.
“May I speak to Mary?”
Yvette studied him. “You missed her. She left.”
Jim groaned and glanced down the road. “When will she be back?”
