Page 44 of Any Girl But You
“Quinn.” This is the first time I’m admitting this out loud to anyone, and I’m saying it to my ex-girlfriend who once broke my heart. The universe has an interesting way of bringing things full circle. “Her name is Quinn.”
The waiter sets down the second course. I use the back of my fork to cut into the pork patty, but I can’t eat. My stomach tightens with excitement and nerves, with the urge to flee from this place and rush to the one I want.
Quinn.
It’s been Quinn since the moment that fiery redhead stepped into my shop. Quinn, who helped me save my bakery items, let me use her place for a month for prep, who chatted like a pro with my overbearing mother for hours. Quinn, who makes me laugh and knows so much pop culture but not any of the good stuff, who likes fish on pizza and warm hugs and will dance in a crowd of zero with me, even though she doesn’t want to, because I need to let go.
It’s Quinn.
“Does she know how lucky she is?” Josie asks.
I huff out a breath. “She doesn’t know anything… I haven’t told her how I feel.”
Josie nods. So many expressions pass through her, and I still know Josie. I know her thoughts. There are tears in her eyes, a sad, soft smile, a knowingness that she and I will never get back together. “Why?”
Because I’ve been too worried about opening myself up again, afraid of becoming a shell of myself again if it doesn’t work. “Because I’m scared. When we broke up, it killed me. I wasn’t sure I could go through that again.”
“But she’s worth it?”
I nod. “She really is.”
Josie dabs her pinkie in her eye. After a moment, she sits back and folds her hands in her lap. “Thank you for being so refreshingly honest.”
I pick up my fork, but I’m not hungry. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to waste another single second.
“Go,” Josie says, her smile shifting into the crescent-moon shape of sadness. “You don’t want to be here with me, and that’s okay.”
Oh, wow. She really can still read my face. “No, I don’t have to leave. We can stay and finish dinner and?—”
“Zoey, go.” She nods. “It’s okay. Do not do what I did. Do not waste even a single second more on the what-ifs. Go be brave and tell her how you feel.”
My stomach flutters, joining in my racing pulse. I’m going to tell her how I feel. I’ll make her feel safe, I’ll see if she will take a chance on something she’s never taken a chance on before, I’ll tell her we will still be friends if she isn’t reciprocating my feelings.
I dig out cash, stand from the table, and pull Josie into a hug. “Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you for being you, and being so wonderful, and giving me the final push I needed.”
And then I dash out of the restaurant. The air turned chillier in the time I’ve been in the restaurant, and a few fat snowflakes start floating from the clouds. I dig out my phone, tug my mitten off with my teeth, and dial Quinn. I’m not wasting another second. I’m telling her everything. Tonight.
No answer. I stop under the streetlight to send a quick text.
I need to talk to you. Are you around?
My pace picks up and I pray I don’t trip on a crack in the sidewalk and break my foot again, because nothing is keeping me away this time. My heartbeat thuds against my chest, and now, I’m sprinting. I need to get in the car and drive to her place, or drive to the barn, I need to see her.
When I round the corner, I freeze in my tracks. Everything is in slow motion.
Is this what I think it is? I squint, trying to make out the image. No…it can’t be.
It is.
TWENTY-TWO
QUINN
I’ve been standing in the alley outside of Zoey’s loft for an hour, bundled in my jacket, bouncing between my feet, and rethinking everything. Not rethinking that I want to be with Zoey. That, I know. To the deepest part of myself, in a place I didn’t know existed, in a place that she opened for me with her smile and kindness and unapologetically positive outlook on the world, I know I want to be with Zoey.
No, what I’m rethinking is not bringing gloves. And a hat. And definitely boots. These tennis shoes are not working in this weather, and who knows why I grabbed those in my rush to leave rather than my work boots that were tucked right next to them in the closet. But after talking with Morgan, and picturing Zoey laughing while splitting a breadbasket and bottle of wine with Josie, adrenaline surged through my veins, and I bolted from the house.
Snowflakes descend from the sky, butterflying to the ground, each one picking up the glint from the streetlights. My breath comes out in a fog. I tug the scarf up to cover my mouth, blink the plump flakes from my eyelashes, and check my watch. I could probably sit inside Truck Norris like a sane human, but then when Zoey appears, it will ruin what I want to do. Beforetingling creeps in my toes, I hop in place to get my blood pumping.
