Quinn: Don’t worry, you have me.
She sends an angel emoji and Mom responds with a bunch of pink hearts.
Weston: Some of us have actual work to do.
Owen has something saved for that too and sends an “officer buzzkill” meme in two seconds flat.
Mom: I’m putting my phone down now. Behave yourselves, and I’ll see you all tomorrow.
The workday is technically over, but I’m still at the office. Dad is here somewhere as well, wrapping up a meeting with a client that got pushed from this morning. He called this build his “last official” project, but he said that about the other two “last” projects we took on.
As far as working with family goes, this hasn’t been bad. Dad made sure not to give me any handouts, and I worked my way up to where I am now. Rubbing my forehead, I go back to another estimate I’m putting together and do my best not to think of Rory.
Fucking Mrs. Rogers and her hippy advice has been weighing on me all day. We’re all damaged. It’s so simple yet something I forget. I’m not the only one who’s been screwed over, who’s been burned by love.
Who’s to say Rory hasn’t? Though anyone who’d screw her over would be a complete idiot.
Maybe…maybe one date wouldn’t be so bad.
I pick up my phone again, exit out of the group text and open up a new text to Rory. I don’t give myself time to hesitate.
Me: Did you survive the blizzard?
She doesn’t answer right away, and I go back to work, assuming she’s still at work as well. I finish the estimate and am putting my paperwork in the filing cabinet when she texts me back.
Rory: I just barely survived. I was worried I was going to have to kill the meatiest person on my floor and feast on their flesh so I wouldn’t starve once my provisions were gone.
I laugh, able to see the sarcasm on her face.
Me: I’m glad you made it. Things got dicey there for a while. The power flickered a couple times here.
Rory: I got you beat. It flickered a FEW times here. Everyone knows a few is more than a couple.
Me: Good point. I’m glad you survived.
Rory: Me too. Freezing to death in this little apartment is such a boring way to go.
Me: And since you did survive and are most likely nearly out of food…do you want to grab dinner tonight?
I look at the screen, waiting for her to say something—anything. Those little dots show up, and this time they don’t disappear. She’s just taking a long-ass time to reply, or is deleting and rewriting most of what she’s written. Finally, she replies.
Rory: I had a really long day at work. I just want to go home.
Me: Tomorrow?
Shit. Tomorrow is dinner at Quinn’s house. Oh well. She’d be all too happy to know I was taking Rory out on a proper date. This time, the little dots come and go four times before I hear back from her.
Rory: I don’t think that’s a good idea. Like I said, we had our fun.
I let out a sigh and roll my eyes. And this is why I don’t even bother.Chapter 22Dean“My money is on another baby.” Logan adjusts Henry in the baby carrier, careful not to wake the sleeping baby. We’re all at Quinn and Archer’s, and were surprised to see Archer’s parents and Bobby here as well. Quinn brushed it off, saying the kids asked to have everyone over, but by the way Emma and Arya are glued to some princess pony show on TV, I don’t think that’s the real reason.
“Four kids.” Charlie shakes her head. “I don’t know how Quinn hasn’t lost her mind. One is enough for us—for now,” she adds quickly. “I don’t want to think about having another until Olivia is two. She takes after her dad and is such a troublemaker. A cute troublemaker, at least.”
“I like knocking you up.” Owen wraps his arm around Charlie and kisses her neck. Charlie pushes him away, laughing.
“We’re done with two,” Danielle says, looking at their youngest. “I already have a feeling this one is going to be a handful.”
Feeling out of place in this conversation, I go into the kitchen to get something to eat and see Bobby standing at the counter. There’s an open bottle of wine next to the fridge, left out by someone who wasn’t thinking. Bobby has told us he doesn’t want us to stop drinking when he’s over. We can enjoy alcohol responsibly and shouldn’t punish ourselves.
“Hey,” I say, coming up behind him. “Want me to take that?”
Bobby pulls his sobriety chip out of his pocket and flips it around in his fingers. “No. I’m…I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I think we all know why we’re here, and another niece or nephew is good motivation. I…I missed the newborn stage with the other three. I’m determined to be there for the whole thing this time.”