Page 34 of A Man for the Holidays

“Yes. Over the past two weeks, I’ve seen how Spencer is around you. Quinn, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy in… well, a very long time, if ever.”

“And he makes me very happy too,” I tell her.

“Then why end it?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Stay. Don’t go back. Stay here with the two of us, permanently.”

I look at her but say nothing trying to hide that feeling I’ve had in the bottom of my stomach for the past few days now, knowing that in less than forty-eight hours, this is all going to be over.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Paige,” I tell her, finally.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s complicated. I can’t even explain it myself.”

“Well try,” she begs.

I stare into her beautiful, piercing brown eyes, and although I’m gay and very much in love with Spencer, Paige is certainly a breathtaking woman who will no doubt make any man happy. I certainly can’t deny an attractive woman when I see one. As I reach out and take her hand, I hear the lock on the front door click, then the sound of a door opening, before seeing Spencer’s head poke into the living room.

“Hi,” he says, and I notice his eyes flick from me to Paige, then down to our hands. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all, Quinn and I were just… talking. I’m going to head back into the kitchen and see how the repairmen are going.”

She gets up off the couch and brushes past Spencer, heading straight for the kitchen.

“Why do I get the feeling that I just walked in on something important?” he questions.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, except that itdoesmatter. A whole lot, actually.

“Quinn?” he pushes.

“Let’s talk in my room,” I say.

I don’t give him a chance to respond as I brush past him and into my bedroom. I leave the door open, then sit down on the bed and wait for him. When he enters my room, he closes the door behind him, then wanders over toward the bed and sits down beside me. I don’t acknowledge him at first, but when he takes a hold of my hand and tries to intertwine our fingers, I pull my hand away.

“Quinn, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Spencer, there’s, I don’t know, questions that I need to ask.”

“Okay?” he replies, drawing the word out.

“Remember the first time we had sex, in your bedroom? We were talking about feelings and emotions and what it means for two people to be in love.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, when you feel that way about someone, is it normal that when you’re near them and they press their body against yours, that every part of you screams and you feel like your mind is racing so fast that you think your brain is going to blow out of your head?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it feels like, and it’s the best feeling in the world, Quinn,” he says.

I give him a smile, but in reality, I’m trying to hold back the huge lump that I feel lodged at the back of my throat.

“Spencer, what am I going to do?”

“What do you mean, what are you going to do? It doesn’t need to be complicated, Quinn. It’s not a competition. We just continue exploring each other’s bodies and enjoy ourselves while we do it.”

“Yes,” I say, taking his hand and brushing my thumb over his knuckles, “but you have the rest of your life to explore these feelings and everything else with whoever you want. I, on the other hand, have less than two days.”

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