“Are you leaving?”
“Huh?” Her face scrunched up like she didn’t understand.
I looked pointedly at her shoes.
“Oh, sorry.” She flustered as she toed them off and bent down to put them out of the way.
“Leave them,” I pulled her up by her arm. “Relax.”
She stumbled slightly, and her hands grabbed onto my forearms. I took a step closer to her until we were toe to toe. My arms wrapped around her, holding her to me. Her head just under my chin as I felt her breathing hiccup into my chest.
“We’re going to talk, Quincy. I don’t care how long it takes, if we’re here all night. If I have to lock that door, I will, you’re not running or walking away from this.”
I felt her wince and then she wrapped her arms around me.
“I’m so sorry, Jamie.”
“I know, but sorry won’t work anymore. I can’t keep running after you. You need to stop and deal with things before they get out of hand.” I pulled away and kissed her forehead as she sighed. “Are you hungry?”
She shook her head at me, “Not really.”
“Well, I’m starving.”
We talked for hours. We talked about everything and anything over dinner. Luckily mum had popped round and stocked the fridge with a few meals. I’d told her she didn’t have to, but she insisted I humour Leoni, her housekeeper. She’d been with our family for as long as I could remember, and she’d always had a thing for feeding me and my sisters. She was more family than employee.
Quincy had gradually begun to relax. I’m not quite sure what she was expecting, but she’d been on edge about it. I’d kept the wine flowing as we talked about how she felt over Pippa going away with Richard and Jenna. She wasn’t best pleased, but she understood that it was one of the things she had to relent on. Although she wasn’t keen on the notion of compromise when it came to Richard, she knew that it was the only way they would stop butting heads.
I topped off our wineglasses with what was left of the Malbec Gwen had chosen for our first date as she wandered back from the toilet.
She sat back down and took a sip from her glass. The gaze from under her long lashes locking on mine. We both just sat for a moment. Still. Her hands wrapped around the generous belly of her glass. Her fingers barely meeting. It always amazed me how petite her hands were. So refined. It was like they were specifically made to fix the most intricate and delicate of organs.
She quirked a brow as a cheeky smile lit up her face. “I need to ask you something.”
“Go for it.”
“Why on earth do you have a mirrored toilet seat in your guest toilet?”
“The same reason you have a disco ball coffee table.”
“Willow.” She stated with no surprise at all tinging her voice.
“Yup.” I toasted, my glass clinking with hers lightly. “I didn’t have it in me to argue with her about a toilet seat. Couldn’t bring myself to give a shit.”
“Oh, I see what you did there,” She gave me an exaggerated giggle. “Very funny. It’s a pity it insults your intelligence.”
“Does it?” I poked my finger right into the tickle spot on her thigh, in just the right way to make her squirm.
“Yes!” She gasped for breath in between her bouts of laughter. “Stop it, I’m going to spill my wine!”
“Such a party pooper.”
“Not my fault your jokes are rubbish.” She took one long gulp of her wine and put the glass down.
“You laughed.”
“At you.” She removed her headband and threw it on the coffee table with a huff, before brushing her hair from her face. “That thing always hurts right on the Mastoid.”
I sat back onto the sofa and put my feet up on the footstool, making myself comfortable. She gave me a slight glare as I tapped my lap and pulled her into me. The moment I started rubbing the bone behind her ears she sighed and laid her head on my thighs. It was such a mundane moment, but it felt good. It felt right, like all the pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together. We were both relaxed, which meant it was a good time to talk about us.