Page 58 of Parallel

I freeze. She’d be better off remaining unaware of some of what happened that night. “Yeah?”

“About your brother.”

My brother has been dead for over a decade, but the idea that she climbed into my bed seeking Ryan makes me want to throw my fist through a wall. “Please tell me you don’t remember anything sexual with my brother when you were apparently married to me but remember nothing.”

She laughs. “No. It wasn’t like that. I was at homecoming with you, and he was there with…what was her name? Lisette Durand. She was French.”

Jesus fucking Christ. She remembers things even I don’t remember. “So, I took you to homecoming and what you remember about it is my brother. You are singlehandedly destroying what remains of my self-esteem.”

Her laugh is throaty, and the sound goes straight to my cock. “Are you jealous?”

“Weirdly, yes.”

“Don’t be,” she says, smiling. “We wound up in the back of your car.”

I groan. This is not what I need to hear in a public place, but I can’t stop myself from asking for more. “And I guess that, just like our honeymoon, you mysteriously don’t remember what happened there either?”

She flushes, her tongue tapping once against her upper lip. “Actually…” she says, “I do.” We’ve reached the Metro at the worst possible moment.

“But you’re not going to tell me any of it, are you?”

She shakes her head, blushing furiously. “Nope.” And, pressing her lips to the corner of my jaw, she turns and walks away.

28

QUINN

Getting home from Foggy Bottom is never not a pain in the ass. It involves taking the orange line back to Metro Center, then catching the yellow line to my stop. I’m bumped and jostled, pushed forward as I climb onto the train, pushed backward when others join us. My toes are stepped on. I inevitably give up my seat for an old person or a child, while some douchebag sits with his legs spread, taking up two seats instead of one.

Tonight is no different, yet I smile the whole ride home.

Going back to school is a part of it, a big part of it— it means taking the classes I’ve been dreaming about for so long and telling Dee to kiss my ass sometime in the near future—but I’d be lying to myself if I gave it full credit. Because what really has me smiling right now, closing my eyes to remember the last hour more fully, is Nick. It’s dancing with him, having him walk me to the Metro, the call he placed that singlehandedly made something I’ve wanted for years happen in an instant.

When the long ride finally ends, I walk home, preparing myself for less happy things—like the discussion with Jeff that’s coming. He’s in the yard when I arrive, playing football with Isaac, and I stay where I am for a moment to watch them.

“Go long!” Jeff shouts and Isaac runs hard, catching the pass with his fingertips before he turns back to grin at Jeff, waiting for the praise he knows is coming.

Jeff gives him a thumbs-up, beaming like a proud father. The sight makes me happy and sad at the same time, because this is who Jeff was meant to be. A dad and a football coach in some small town. But instead, he’s been trying to fit into my world, trying to constrict himself to my parameters, attempting one thing after another that doesn’t interest him or come naturally. He did all of that for me. Have I considered him once while I fantasize about someone else and make plans to quit my job?

There’s a brick in my stomach as Jeff sees me walking toward him and smiles wide, clutching the football to his chest. His love for me is so pure and uncomplicated, but I can no longer say the same. “Hey babe,” he says, kissing my forehead. He throws the ball back to Isaac and waves to him as he wraps an arm around me and walks me inside.

He opens the refrigerator door. “I was going to start dinner, but I wasn’t sure when you’d be home.”

His goodness makes me feel petty and small. “I thought you weren’t getting in until later.”

“I caught an early flight,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “I just needed to see you after our talk last night. I know it’s been a pretty stressful couple of weeks, between your tumor and losing our reception hall. And maybe I’ve been pushing too hard on the house. I just really want—”

“Georgetown is letting me start in the fall,” I say, all in a rush.

His jaw swings open. “What? We said we’d talk about it.”

“No,” I reply. “You said we’d talk about it. I want to finish my architecture degree, and I have the money to do it. I’ll give Dee notice sometime in the next few weeks.”

“What the hell, Quinn?” he cries. “We discuss these things. You can’t just go off and do whatever you want.”

I meet his eye, and I feel…different. Like there’s another version of myself eager to be brought into the light, one who’s tired of sacrificing. I’m giving up everything I could have with Nick, but I’m done pulling my punches. I’m done acting like his happiness and my mother’s matter more than mine. “Do we discuss these things?” I ask. “Because I don’t remember you saying a word before you quit your job. Twice.”

“You know I’ve been trying,” he says, almost mute with shock. What he’s really saying is how can you throw this in my face right now? And maybe he’s right. I’m no longer sure of anything. “And what you’re talking about is so different. I tell you I might lose my job and you just decide to quit yours. Even if I keep my job, do you realize how tight things will be on one income?”