My stomach is still in knots, and I don’t want to lose my dinner before it digests.
Cracking a couple of beers, we head outside to the little patio because being inside feels way too closed in. It’s nice out, and the porch light in the back is bright enough to make conversing easy.
‘What do you have for me?’
Quinn frowns, his mouth stuffed full of pita. ‘Mom made you a quilt.’
My heart warms a little. She made me one a few years ago when I first met Robbie, but it’s in storage with all the shit I put there before I left for Paris. It probably has a bunch of moth holes in it by now.
‘I’ll come over to say thanks.’
Quinn grins and nods before taking a large enough bite of chicken to choke a small animal. ‘Why do you look bad?’
There are times when I resent Deaf blunt, even if it is my second nature.
I purse my lips. ‘No reason.’
He lifts a brow at me.
‘It’s nothing,’ I repeat, but he’s unmoved. ‘It’s been a weird transition back home.’
He softens. ‘You miss the wine, the cigarettes, the cheese…’
‘Cheese, yes. Wine is good here. I don’t smoke.’
He laughs and reaches over, stealing the pita I’m clearly not eating. I dig a carrot into the hummus instead and wait for him to free his hands. ‘Can I help you feel better?’
He can’t. He really can’t. ‘Do you know Thom’s brother?’
‘Sex?’
Oh god, tell me that hasn’t become his actual sign name. ‘DEX,’ I spell.
Quinn laughs and shrugs. ‘Yeah, I know him. Funny guy. Gives us all discounts at the gym.’
Of fucking course he does. I never got a damn discount. Saint Dex. I should make that his sign name, the asshole. I do my best not to let any of that show on my face.
Instead, I set my nibbled carrot down and pull out my phone, scrolling until I find a photo of them.
Of Dex and his fiancée.
I show it to Quinn.
‘You know her?’
‘LEXI,’ he spells.
Oh, good. Now I have a name to the face, and it fits. ‘You like?’
‘She’s nice,’ Quinn answers, looking unbothered. ‘Interpreter at the college.’
That explains so much. I want to hate her, but how can I? She’s keeping Dex attached to the community, and she’s giving him a safe space on his language journey, and—as I cannot help but fixate on—she’s so beautiful.
If I liked women, I would have immediately gone up to her in a bar.
‘Pretty.’
Quinn shrugs. ‘If you like that sort of thing.’
