His smile is so condescending I want to vomit. “Let’s be realistic about this, Professor Riley. Even if I did stand against the initiative—which I won’t—do you really think that would make a difference? I’m notthatpowerful on campus. These are deep-seated issues, and believing a few professors saying you did your job well this summer will change anything is simply naive. There’s nothing that can be done to stop this train. All you can do is step out of the way or let it hit you.”
I want to rage and scream and break something, but I’m shocked into silence. Why had I let myself believe I succeeded? I should have known that even though he admitted he was wrong,Dr. Guarino would find a way to justify maintaining the status quo.
He pats me gently on the shoulder. “Think about it.”
He doesn’t wait for a response before walking away, making it a dozen feet before I can find my voice again.
“I’m going to fight this,” I say, somehow infusing strength I don’t feel into my tone.
He turns back to me, nodding his head. “That’s your choice. You will be the one responsible for any fallout, for you or anyone else who supports you.”
But if Dr. Guarino’s out, who even will consider supporting me? Not Andrea, who’s jumpy about doing anything dramatic this close to her tenure review or Lynn, who just wants her contract renewed next year. Maybe Sydney, since she doesn’t have much to lose. But what does she have to gain?
The only person I know will stand with me is the most vulnerable of the group. He’s done everything in his power to support and protect me since the moment we met, even to his own detriment. Colton has sacrificed so much for the people he loves.
But I can’t let him sacrifice his dreams for me.
I crythe entire way back to the apartment.
I cry for the lost hope, the belief that I could find a way to make this work.
I cry for the pain this is going to cause Colton, the way he’s going to react when he finds out.
I cry for the future I’d imagined earlier today, me and Colton back in Boston, loving our jobs and loving each other.
It’s so tempting, the idea of staying. Of asking Colton to figure this out with me, because I know he’d say yes. Selfishly, Idon’t want to be alone. I want to be the priority, the one worth sticking around for.
But I know what will happen. He’ll become public enemy number one of Dr. Guarino and the other professors. And if he loses tenure—if he isn’t able to keep Gerry in the house she loves so much—he’ll resent me eventually. Love only stretches so far before it breaks, and seeing his love for me dissolve would destroy me.
It takes way less time than it should to pack my bags. A process that took days back in Boston is done in less than half an hour, like the universe is telling me this is the right decision and ushering me out of this beautiful bubble we’ve built. I’m hollowed out—broken and exhausted—by the time it’s done.
I glance around our apartment, this perfect haven of joy and love, and snap a few pictures. The perfect tool to torture myself with back in Boston, like an empty stage I can use to set the scene for my masochistic daydreams.
My phone says I still have fifteen minutes until my taxi will be here, but there’s nothing else for me to do. I’m tempted to sit on the couch, to let myself dissolve into a puddle of tears, but I can’t. If I let myself fall apart, even for a minute, I don’t think I’ll be able to put myself back together.
So, I keep going. I’m like a shark. I can’t stop moving or I’ll die.
I look for something productive to do while I wait. Colton’s notebook is sitting on the dining room table, his favorite pen laying across the top, and I realize that even if what I’m doing is terrible, this is something I can do right. At least I won’t leave him with nothing.
I tear a page out, sitting at the table with the pen clutched in my hand as I desperately try to figure out what to say. That it’s all for him? That he deserves to achieve his dreams? That I love him? I start writing, hoping it will magically come to me.
Colton,
I’m sorry
I can’t figure out what to say beyond that, staring blankly at the page. He deserves more than a note, but I know if I wait to see him, he’ll try to talk me out of it, and I’m terrified that I’m not strong enough not to let him.
Before I can figure what to say, a key is fitted into the lock. I pray it’s Inez, home early from her drink with Tomasso. But from the way the air’s sucked out of the room when the door opens, I know it’s him.
Heavy footsteps follow, then silence. I can feel him right behind me, close enough to see over my shoulder to where the incriminating paper rests on the table. Maybe he’ll be mad enough that he lets me leave without even talking about it. I’ll slip away like a dream so vivid you wonder if it actually happened.
But that’s not Colton’s style. He’s never let me get away with anything, and I know he’s not about to start now when he says, “Quinn, what the fuck is this?”
34
COLTON
I’m pissed.More pissed than I think I’ve ever been at Quinn. I was already mad when I arrived, but finding her here in our home, suitcases around her and a piece of paper that just says, “Colton, I’m sorry,” in front of her makes me feel like there’s a fire under my skin.
