Page 6

“Not my point,” her mother replied.

Quinn swallowed and said, “I’ll have you know that I met a woman at the shop today, actually.”

“You did what?”

“Yeah. Her name is Abby. She bought something, and we talked for a while.”

The ‘a while’ part might have been a stretch, and Abby, technically, hadn’t bought anything, but it was somewhere near the truth, at least.

“You met a woman at the shop today?”

“I did. She’s a writer, and…” Quinn tried to think of something else about Abby to share. “She’s gorgeous.”Well, that was the truth, at least. “Big brown eyes. Cute nose.”

“And when are you going on a date with this gorgeous Abby?”

“A date?”

“Yes, Quinn. I assumed when you told me that you’d met a woman that that meant you would be going out with her.”

Her parents hadn’t ever had a problem with her being gay. They hadn’t exactly celebrated it when she’d come out, but they’d never made her feel bad about wanting a wife one day instead of a husband. They’d even defended her to others who had suggested that there was something wrong with her or assumed Quinn was straight and looking for a man.

“I haven’t asked her yet,” she replied. “But I’m going to.”

“Is she gay, too? Or, at least, attracted to women?”

‘Oh, shit,’Quinn thought to herself.

She didn’t know the answer. ShethoughtAbby might have felt at least some of what Quinn had felt based on the woman’s smile and how she’d been a little awkward there for a minute, but the only way she’d know that for sure would be to ask, and she hadn’t done that today.

“She is,” she lied, figuring that if her mom asked about Abby in the future, she could just say that they’d gone out, but Abby wasn’t the one for her.

Better yet, she’d make up something so that her mother wouldn’t think that it was her fault. Maybe Abby would be moving away for work soon, so they’d both decided not to pursue it. She’d brainstorm other excuses later.

“And you’re really going to ask her out?”

“Yes. She’s stopping by the shop again… soon.”

“Soon?”

Quinn closed her eyes just as her microwave dinged, telling her with three annoying beeps that her burrito was done.

“Mom, my dinner’s ready. I should go. I don’t want it to get cold.”

“I expect an update on this Abby, Quinn.”

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

Quinn hung up on her mother, sighed deeply over the lie she’d just told her, took another drink of her beer, and stood. Making her way to the small kitchen in the small two-bedroom house, which she rented because she hadn’t been able to afford to buy the shopanda house, she felt claustrophobic. She usually did in the kitchen, which felt too small for her. It was open enough, she supposed, but there was something off about it and, really, the whole house to her that had never made sense. The rent was the right price, though, and the proximity to the shop had been the thing that had taken her over the edge. She’d been there ever since she’d moved. Now, she was staring into her fridge, looking for the salsa.

“I’m out,” she said to herself. “Great.”

CHAPTER 4

“You want to dowhat?” her publisher asked.

“Did you not hear me?” she checked, wondering if the cell reception in her house had gone from two bars to one again, which was a common occurrence.