Her brow furrows with confusion, but she still nods.
Fuck, I need to say something to reassure her. Something that will wipe the frown from her face. “It’s good.”
That doesn’t help.
“Really good.”
She presses her lips together. It’s not a smile, but not a frown either.
Fuck, this garage is full.
I drive around the corner to the second level, but it’s just as packed.
Quinn crosses and uncrosses her legs. She shifts to her right. Then her left.
Her eyes go everywhere.
“There.” She points to a spot in the corner. “Then we… then we can talk.”
“Yeah.” I pull into the parking space. This car is a lumbering thing. It’s a pain in the ass. A good reason to skip the suburban soccer dad thing.
Fuck. This is the first time I’ve ever entertained the idea of a wife, much less a family, much less a family in the suburbs.
I’m getting better at this.
I’m still not good at this, but I am getting better.
I turn the car off and set my keys in my lap.
Instantly, the temperature climbs.
“Fuck, I forgot.” I open the door. “Let’s do this outside.”
“Oh… okay.”
I rush to her side of the car, but she’s too fast. She’s already standing in the garage.
Quinn stares at me like I’m crazy. “Wes, will you please explain?”
Okay. I will. I don’t have a choice now.
I pull my cell from my pocket, open the right app, show her the screen.
Her eyes go wide. “I… I don’t understand.”
I point to the name on the ticket.
“You’re going to Chicago?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“But… you’re here. Everything is here.”
“I know.”
Her brow knits with confusion. “So you—”
“You have to go back no matter what.”
“Well, yeah.”
“I want to go with you.” I slide my cell into my back pocket. Take her hands into mine. “I want you to stay, Quinn. But I can’t ask you to give up med school if it’s what you really want.”
She nods.
“I want you here. I want you in my bed, every fucking day, until we’re too sore to move. But, more than that, I want to be where you are. If that’s Chicago, I’m in Chicago.”
“You have any idea how cold it gets?”
I shake my head. “I look great in a coat.”
She laughs. “Probably true. But Wes… it’s… it’s not you.”
“You gonna be there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, fuck, I didn’t have a response planned for that.”
Her lips curl into a smile. “You really want to come with me?”
I nod. “More than anything.”
“That’s…” Her smile gets wider. “Yes. Definitely.”
Her smile gets wider. “But, Wes?”
“Yeah?”
“I hate Chicago.”
I can’t help but laugh. “We can still make it work.”
“I mean, we do need to go now. I need to face Owen and my parents, and God, I have no idea what they’ll say. But I don’t want to be there long-term. Maybe I’ll apply to another med school. Go somewhere else. But I want to be here. Well, not here—”
“In California?”
She nods. “With you.”
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah.” She wraps her arms around me. “But, Wes?”
“Yeah?”
“We can’t take this flight.”
“No?”
“We need to celebrate this properly?”
My smile widens. “What do you mean, angel?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Quinn
“Please prepare for our descent into O’Hare.” The captain’s voice booms from the speakers.
I press my palms together. Suck a breath through my teeth.
This is it.
Twenty minutes until I’m on the ground. An hour, maybe, until I explain this to my brother.
I’m dropping out of med school. By the way, my boyfriend is here too. He’s not the reason. Well, not the way you think. He kinda is the reason. But I’m not dropping out for him. It’s more that he helped me realize I hate medicine.
That might fly with Owen.
But my parents?
“Breathe, angel.” Wes’s fingers graze my wrist.
Breathe.
Yes.
It’s good advice.
I focus on a slow inhale. A steady exhale. All the yoga teacher calmness I can handle.
It’s not very much.
But it’s something.
I can do this.
I think.
Probably.
“You want me to talk or shut up?” He unwraps my clenched fists—funny, I don’t remember clenching them—and intertwines his fingers with mine.
“Talk.” I think. Over the last few years, I’ve gotten better at handling my anxiety. I’m more nervous than anxious. But I’m still… well, I’m really fucking nervous.
“I gotta tell you something you’re not going to like.”
“Is it about Mission Impossible?” I stick my tongue out.
Wes laughs. “No, but I do have the DVDs for all the sequels.”
“All of them?”
He nods. “Every single one.”
“Why?”
“Quinn, do you really need me to go over this again?”
“I saw the movie. I know it’s terrible.”
“It’s at least bad.”
My laugh eases the tension in my shoulders. He’s right. It’s not terrible. It’s even decent.
Or maybe all the wine and Wes confused me.
Yes. That’s what I need.
Only—
Well, we can’t exactly cuddle here.
We can’t even sneak to the bathroom for—
Okay, I’d never actually consider joining the mile high club. Not in a commercial airline in the bathroom.
If I somehow win the lottery and buy a private jet, then sure. I’ll pin Wes to a plush leather seat, climb on top of him, and ride him hard.