“I’m on my way.”
Thirty minutes later, I haven’t moved from my spot on the couch, still reviewing how things got so messed-up. One glance at my phone confirms that Maali left several voice mails, as did Quinn. I don’t have the kind of life you can just drop out of for a day. My life is a train at full-speed. Try just “hopping” off for a minute without a scheduled stop, and things get run over.
One person I don’t have any missed calls from is Jared. Something burns in my chest. Hurt or disappointment. I feel like Buffy after Angel finally got into her pants and then became a cool aloof demon who never called and then tried to kill her. Of course, that’s extreme. For one, Jared has been a devil all along. I knew that. Two, I don’t think he’ll come after my heart with a stake. He’d be more subtle than that. I could be reading too much into it. Before we so fucktastically wrecked my desk . . . and my life . . . he was giving me space. Maybe this is more space while I sort through things with Zo. Or maybe he’s done? I should be grateful, but I think I feel bereft.
I know exactly how I feel about what I’ve done to Zo. I know how I feel about the violent betrayal of my own co
de of values and principles. But I don’t know how to feel about Jared giving up on me. And I should. I should know this. Moral clarity, based on what I embrace as true for my life, has always been my guide. Right now I feel murkier than ever, stuck in this morass. Unsure.
The door opening shakes me from my philosophical musings on the couch. Quinn has a key. She appears, still dressed from her AesThetics meeting, I assume, because she’s very smartly turned out. In contrast I look . . .
“You look like shit,” she confirms what was heretofore only a suspicion.
“I figured as much.” I touch my swollen eyelids and cheeks still hot from crying.
“I brought reinforcements.” She holds up a plastic bag. “Vodka popsicles. Only a hundred calories, and it’s like alcohol and ice cream!”
I smile for the first time in what feels like years.
“That’s better than the pepperoni pizza I was contemplating.” I hold up the Gino’s menu.
She looks from my blotchy, swollen face to the menu.
“Some days call for pizza, honey.” She snatches the menu from me. “Don’t overthink it and don’t overdo it. Tomorrow’s a new day.”
She dials the number on the menu.
“Yes, do you have personal size? How many slices?” She beams at me. “We’ll take one of those.”
One hour and four miniature slices of pepperoni pizza later, two for each of us, she’s drawn the whole gory tale out of me, fully loaded with additional tears and self-recriminations. I hope I’d be as compassionate as she is listening to me. There’s no judgment in her kind eyes.
“I can’t believe I did this,” I gasp, fighting back more tears. “And all this damn crying. I don’t cry like this. I’m sorry.”
I blink back tears and stare at my hands tremoring in my lap.
“I hurt him so badly, Quinn. If you could have seen, have heard how crushed he was. Zo, the sweetest man on the planet, and I do this to him. I’m such a—”
“Ah, ah, ah . . .” Quinn slices in with a wagging finger. “Watch what you say about the woman who literally saved my life.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I shake my head and shake off the praise.
“I’m not.” Quinn puts her hands over mine. “I had one leg and a death wish when you came for me, lady. I’d already tried to kill myself twice, if you remember.”
Quinn’s normally cheery gaze goes solemn with the memories.
“You saw something in me no one else did, Banner,” she says softly. “And you wouldn’t stop, you stubborn bitch, until I saw it, too. And it made me want to live again.”
She blinks back tears of her own.
“Do you realize how many people you’ve done that for?” she asks. “How many guys are still in the NBA because of how you fight for them? Protect them? Smacked them on the head when they needed it? Everyone’s not like you. The way you care for people, how you fight for them, it’s extraordinary. Your loyalty is extraordinary.”
A humorless laugh huffs past my lips.
“I think Zo would probably question my loyalty right about now,” I say, glancing back down at my lap.
“You’re a good person who did something out of character. You can’t beat yourself up forever. Banging your head against the wall burns a hundred and fifty calories, but is that good for you?”
“What?” I laugh, even though I’m not sure when I’ll be rid of this guilt. “Oh my God.”