Page 38 of Love Marks

Quinn hasn’t uttered a word to me since our argument on Saturday. I know I shouldn’t have been so harsh on her, but I can’t seem to help it. She sets me off. Gets under my skin.

The worst part is that I checked the spreadsheet, and she was right. There was a mistake in the numbers. I immediately called Enrique, my accountant, giving him a reaming that my father would have been proud of. Twice this week I went to apologize to Quinn, but she was nowhere to be found. Turns out she really was doing extra work, sticking around later than she was supposed to and coming in early. Now she’s gone by the time I get home and my food sits on the counter like a reproach.

I can’t take it anymore. I intend to apologize tonight. I may be stubborn and damn prideful, but I can admit when I’m wrong. I decide to leave work early and catch her before she leaves for the day. Tomorrow is her day off, so I know it’s my last chance before I lose my resolve.

All the way up the elevator, I’m filled with nervousness. I pray she’s not wearing those leggings again. I won’t be able to take it.

Ding!

I step out of the elevator doors and walk towards the kitchen, but she’s not in there. She’s in the living room, dancing. She’s wearing a long summer dress that fits her perfectly, swaying around her ankles as she moves around the room. She picks up a glass vase, wiping it down as she bops her head. I move closer, getting ready to call her name, when she turns and gasps in surprise at the sight of me, dropping the glass vase.

It shatters all over the floor at her feet.

“Oh my god.” She pulls out her headphones and drops to her knees immediately, reaching for the broken pieces. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

Before I can even blink, she starts crying. Heaping, uncontrollable sobs. The tears stream down her face as she picks up every piece of glass. I just stand there, frozen in place, not sure what to do. I’ve never had a woman cry like this in front of me before. My mother has only cried once and it was the steely type of crying where only one or two tears escaped. Not like this.

What do I do?

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she mutters through her sobs, depositing the broken pieces of glass into her palm, despite the small cuts forming on her hand. Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

“It’s okay. It’s just a vase.” I drop down towards her, reaching out to stop her, but as soon as I move towards her, she flinches, leaning backwards away from me.

My heart drops.

Does she really think I’d hurt her?

Fuck. A wave of nausea rolls through me.

She blinks a few times and looks at me like she’s looking right through me. “Wesley?” She whispers my name like a question.

I have to shake off the feeling of guilt crawling up my throat. I reach for her again and she doesn’t flinch this time, so I lift her up with me, both of us standing. She’s shaking still and her sobs have stopped, but tears leak from the corner of her eyes.

“I don’t—” She looks down at the broken glass like she’s just realized it’s there. “I’m really sorry. I’ll clean it all up.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the glass, Quinn.” My voice sounds harsher than I intended but the sight of her like this is making me feel insane.

She stares down at the broken glass, not looking at me.

“Come here,” I say softly, leading her towards the kitchen.

I sit her on one of the stools and run to the bathroom, grabbing my first aid kit. When I return, she hasn’t moved from her spot. She’s just staring down at the floor. I move towards her slowly and when she looks up at me, tears swim in her eyes. I take her palm gingerly and shake out the small pieces of glass, examining the cuts.

She doesn’t say anything as I clean her palm. I swallow, hard, trying to shake off the image of her flinching away from me.

“Does it hurt?” I ask, finally.

She shakes her head.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine,” she murmurs.

I take the last piece of glass out of her hand and apply antiseptic ointment, hoping nothing is infected and the bandages I have will suffice. I cover the wounds with a few band-aids. Maybe I should call Ben and ask Jamie to come over. She’s a doctor. She’ll know what to do, right?

My frantic thoughts are interrupted by Quinn’s soft hand pulling away from mine.

“I’m sorry. That was…embarrassing.”