I clasped Quinn’s other shoulder and bent down, kissing him quickly on the lips. “I have to get everything I need for the weekend from the office. Drive safely. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
Quinn, Hunter, and Shannon blinked at me.
“Oh, and happy Thanksgiving.” I gave them a wave and left, resettling the bag strap on my shoulder.
Chapter Eighteen
Drenched from rain, I let myself into apartment twenty-three, flicked on the light, and shucked off my jacket and shoes. With cold, stiff limbs, I dropped onto the couch, my bag wedged uncomfortably behind my back.
With a groan, I stripped out of my wet clothes and padded to the bathroom to dry my hair. The warm air didn’t help me forget the email I’d sent my father.
MyHappy Thanksgivingmessage had come back with an auto-reply.
Thank you for your message. I am currently outof the office over the Thanksgiving weekend. I will be returning on Monday, the first of December. If you need urgent assistance, contact me at...
I switched off the blow dryer. Maybe I could try contacting him, though the matter could hardly be qualified as “urgent.”
Back in my living room, I pulled out my notebook and moved back to the couch.Dating the Differently-Abled.I jotted down some of the observations I made about Hunter and Mitch, and I expanded on the questions and answers I already had.
“Definitely need more interviews,” I said, and my voice bounced off the arched windows and back to me.
I stopped note-taking to draw the curtains. Leaning against the window frame, I stared out into the night. Lamplight peppered the length of the street, and car tireschuuurredover the wet road. Quinn should have arrived in Louisville by now.
A step back, and the reflection of me alone in the room winked back at me. The apartment seemed bigger, colder without him. My stomach rumbled, empty—hungry.
I popped a slice of bread into the new toaster Quinn bought.I ought to write a report on the blessings of an attentive roommate... friend.Boyfriend?
A small shock shot up my middle, and I prepared the toast with shaky hands.
Sitting at the end of the table, I ate slowly while reading the currentScribe. I scanned the opinions page and Jack’s report on the reopening of the 32ndfloor of the Cathedral of Learning, which ended with a mention of the black-tie event that Mitch had invited Hunter to. Sounded like my type of party. But that Friday wasn’t going to work for me, unless I got my feature article to the chief before that. Considering all the interviews I would have to schedule this week, I didn’t think the black-tie event would be a possibility.
I shut the magazine and pushed it to the middle of the table. Itschurrechoed loudly. Staring at the other end of the table atwhat had become Quinn’s chair, I revisited my reasons for staying home.
I came to the painful conclusion that I’d made the wrong choice.
I wokeup to the smell of the neighbors makingpancakes, of all things. On Thanksgiving Day, I thought most families would skimp on a large breakfast in favor of the turkey extravaganza later.
I rolled out of bed and took a quick shower. I slipped into a maroon robe, and when I stepped out of the bathroom, the thick scent of pancake goodness tickled my nose.
And then came the distinct sound of shuffling.
I froze for a second before striding to the kitchen—
“Gah!” It wasn’t my imagination. He was here, making pancakes. Quinn.
He twisted from the pan, wielding a spatula in his right hand, a sheepish grin twitching his lips. “Morning.”
The window was hitched open a crack, and I drew my robe tighter at the draught of winter-spiced air. “What are you doing here?”
He focused on the pancake, taking a moment to flip it. Then he pointed the spatula at me as if it explained everything. He added, “You kissed me in the café. In front of everyone.”
I followed the rise and fall of the spatula. “I did.”
Quinn fished the pancake out of the pan and set it atop the others. “I liked it.”
He looked sincerely at me, like he could see through me, somewhere deep that I only occasionally visited. I hooked my thumbs around the robe belt to tighten it.
He poured the last of the batter into the pan and set hisspatula on the bench. He lessened the distance between us. Closer. Closer. Closer.
