Page 41 of Love Marks
Sharon at the front desk gave it to me. I hope that’s okay.
As I’m trying to formulate some sort of a response, another text comes through.
Are you alright? You seemed pretty upset earlier.
Oh my god. Why would he bring that up? Doesn’t he have the common decency to ignore someone’s panic attack? I quickly type out a reply.
I’m fine. Thanks for checking in. See you tomorrow.
There. A polite response, but curt enough to remind him that we are not friends. We work together. The dreaded three dots appear as he types but they disappear and there’s no response. I can’t stare at the awkward conversation any longer, so I slip my phone into my back pocket and return to the party.
“…thinking maybe it’s time for us to move, too. Too many memories in this place.” I catch the tail end of my mom’s sentence as I walk into the kitchen.
“What did you say?” I interrupt.
“Oh, nothing.” My mom pats my arm. “Just telling Sheila that maybe we’ll be following in her footsteps.”
“I’ll never leave New York,” I say, my voice harsher than intended.
“I know that. I just meant maybe a new place. Maybe you could even find your own place,” my mom replies.
“What are you even talking about? I can’t afford to live alone and I’m not going to let you live alone.”
“It was just an idea, sweetheart. Don’t get defensive.”
I grumble and down the rest of my wine.
“Did something happen? You seem off tonight.” My mom rubs my arm, concerned.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.”
That word is starting to sound fake, I’ve said it so many times. I slip out of my mom’s grip and go to the kitchen to refill my glass. I know I’m in a grumpy mood. I can’t help it. Between today’s freak-out and Wesley texting me, I don’t know how I’m going to go back to work tomorrow.
I pour another glass and pull my phone out. My fingers shaking, I type out one last text.
Actually, I’m feeling kind of sick. I might not make it tomorrow — just a heads up.
I hit send, not waiting for Wesley’s reply, and turn my phone off. I put on my biggest smile and lift the stack of paper plates.
“Who wants cake?”
Chapter 20
Wesley
I stare down at the text message from Quinn, not knowing how to respond. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten her phone number from Sharon. She seems upset that I texted her, but I had to know if she was okay. She was so distressed when she ran out of here —what if she’s still crying? What if something else happened when she left?
Why do you care?
I shouldn’t. I don’t. It’s none of my business why she was so upset about the glass and it’s none of my business if she’s still upset now. The wounded doe act is probably part of her plan to bring my walls down and trust her again.
No — I know that’s not true. That wasn’t an act. If anything that’s happened between us has been real at all, it’s what happened today.
I run my hand through my hair with a sigh. When the hell did this become my life? Worse, why am I disappointed that Quinn won’t be here tomorrow when all I’ve wanted is her out of my hair? Maybe it’s because I know she’s avoiding me and feeding me bullshit about being sick.
Frustrated, I call my brother and ask if I can come over. He asks me to pick up some beers. Pete’s off-duty now, so I decide I’ll take the train uptown. Give me some time to clear my head. I grab a six-pack of Blue Moons from the corner and hop on the C train, my headphones in.
When I get to Ben’s place, Luna is already asleep, so we settle in on the couch.