Page 30 of Any Girl But You
Mom probably can beat my sister. My sister, Carrie, is one of the toughest people I know. As an ER nurse, she sees and manages things I can’t even fathom. I love my sister, but we arenot particularly close. Although, it has everything to do with her schedule, and our ten-year age gap, rather than us as people. But she works long hours, overtime, and random schedules.
Noah returns to drawing. Within a few moments, I can tell he’s in his zone, so I step away and look for my mom. My gosh, what I would give to be a first-grader again. The thrill of learning something new every day, spending hours drawing and creating, and not worrying about employee wages and electronic maintenance costs.
These last few weeks, I’ve spent every single day with Quinn at her farm, and it’s so freeing. This week alone, we’ve made almost a hundred ornaments, from hand-painted bulbs to glittery snowflakes, from little gingerbread men to reindeers. Leaving my bakery is good for me. Once I discovered that insurance would cover lost wages for my staff and me, plus the lease payment for the month, I could breathe. After six years, I’m letting go, temporarily at least.
It’s also allowed me to really process everything that happened with me and Josie. She sent another card yesterday, and I stuffed it in the drawer. Up until recently, I didn’t open them because I was nervous what they’d say. What if she was trying to get back together with me? Even though I know in my heart we’re not right for each other, what if I folded and did something unhealthy for both of us? The temptation to fall back into a comfortable life, with someone who once held my entire heart and soul in her hands, has hovered below the surface these last two years.
But now, something’s shifted. Now, even though I’m not ready to throw them, I’m not opening them because it doesn’t seem right. I’m no longerscared, no longer worried that Josie will say some gentle words and I will catapult two years back. Now I’m not opening them because it doesn’t feel right.
And I know why.Quinn. As much as I’m fighting it, I’m developing feelings for her that are deeper than friendship, and it’s terrifying. At night when I come home after spending the day with her and lie in my bed, I stare at the ceiling and think of Quinn and fight with what’s brewing inside.
So, I keep these letters. Maybe it’s keeping a string attaching me to the past. A safety net, where I’m comfortable, holding me back from completely jumping into the future.
“Mom?” I call out as I step into the garage.What the heck…“What are you wearing?”
My mom wears some funky outfits. She is a kindergarten teacher after all. But usually it’s apples on sweaters, alphabet sweatshirts, or lots of bows. But today she’s wearing a backwards baseball cap, dark half-moon lines under her eyes, and a Twins jersey.
“Spirit week at school.” She taps the brim of her hat. “I’m a baseball player, obviously.”
“Obviously.” I grin and look over her shoulder as she sifts through a mound of boxes. “What are you doing?”
“I remembered that I have more supplies that you can take with you to Quinn’s.” She slides a tote from the shelf towards her, peeks in, and frowns. “I know it’s here somewhere.”
“This is really nice of you,” I say. “Are you sure you don’t want to use this for the classroom, though?”
She shakes her head. “No, there’s not enough of everything. And if one kid doesn’t get something that someone else gets, tears will happen. Besides, the rules are different for the type of supplies I can bring in.” She tugs a heavy tote from the bottom shelf and grins. “Ah. Here it is. Yep. Christmas trees and miniature Santas.”
The box contains wooden Christmas trees that are begging to be painted, but also embroidered towels, paints, cotton balls,glitter. It’s the Christmas jackpot. I cannot wait to show Quinn. “These are great! Quinn’s going to love it.”
My mom tosses me a way too big of a grin. Oh no. Heck nope. Iknowthis look. I don’t want to engage in this look. Heat warms my face.
“So, you’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately.”
That I have. In all actuality, I’ve been spending almost ten hours a day with Quinn. Somehow, even after we’ve wrapped everything up for the evening, I end up staying. And when I have orders to fill, I prep at her place, and she drives with me back to my shop to bake and wait for the client. Even though she has a ton of work to do at her place, she always seems happy to join me.
“It’s really fun, you know,” I say. “What else am I going to do with a month off?”
Mom doesn’t say anything, and now I totally avoid her gaze. Of course, I could be doing a lot of things. Go on a trip, take a small vacation, volunteer at the school. And yes, I love doing all the crafts with Quinn. But really, I love spending time with Quinn and learning all about her in bite-size pieces. These last several weeks, I’ve discovered that she’s never listened to Nirvana (is she serious?), that she loves her steak medium rare, hates apples, and has a full back tattoo of angel wings. Every single piece brings me closer to her.
And,oof. I amsoattracted to her. There, I said it. And gosh, a part of me wishes I was as sexually empowered and open as Quinn. I want to push this side of me away, the side that emotionally attaches with sex, that dreams of a honeymoon with a single kiss. For one night, maybe I could let myself be free. But as soon as that thought enters my head, I ignore it. My heart will break. I know this. And it’s not worth losing my friendship with Quinn—and crying into my pillow after—for one night of heaven.
I help Mom drag the tote off the shelf and to the corner. “Besides, I think Quinn really needs the help. Her shop, farm, everything is opening the day after Thanksgiving, and she’s not even near ready. She has some inventory, but I don’t think it’s enough. We need more people, but it’s not like she can hire out.” Quinn and I chatted about the lack of inventory. Being an owner myself, I understand the delicate balance of spending money upfront to fill a store but not knowing what will resonate with customers and not wanting to lose everything.
Mom taps her finger on top of the workbench. “So, what I’m hearing is that she needs people who love crafting.” A slow grin spreads.
Oh no, I really,reallyknow that look. “Mom…”
She waves me away. “I have an idea. I’m going to make a few phone calls, okay?”
“Should I be worried?” I ask, but it’s useless. Once Mom sets her mind on something, nothing stops her. “I’ve got to run. I’m going out tonight with Morgan, Frankie, and Quinn.”
“Really? That’s great. I can’t even remember the last time you talked about going out.” My mom lifts the other side of the tote and walks to the car with me. “I’d really love to meet Quinn. Hopefully, sooner than later.”
I pack everything in the car, give Noah and my mom a hug, then rush back to my place to get ready. We’re not leaving for a few hours yet, but it’ll be nice getting more dolled up than normal. The flutters in my belly kick in, but a muted gray cloud hovers over the excitement. Through my shower, curling my hair, searching my closet, something is eating away at me.
Yellow-and-teal envelopes.
I need to cut something in my past, and now is the time. Praying my neighbors don’t see me, I rush down the back-alley stairs from my loft to the bakery in my slippers and pajamas andrush into my office. I grab the letters from Josie and run back upstairs.
