The Best Part of Me (22 page)

Darcy took a sip of her whiskey and sighed. “Ah, this is good. So good.”

Quinn downed half her glass of water before coming up for air.

“Speaking of good, did you ask Ewan if he'd give us a few kegs for the party tomorrow night?”

“You mean your
birthday
party?” Quinn teased.

Darcy made a pained face. “I'm thinking of it as just another party that has nothing specifically to do with me,” she said before taking another sip. “I wonder who all are gonna turn up?”

“All the regulars, I'd suppose,” Quinn replied.

Funny how she felt like one of the regulars herself. It felt nice.

She'd always had friends, but from grade school to high school to college to graduate school, so many of those friends had become mere acquaintances. When her parents had passed away, some friendships had fallen away too.

Looking back on it, she wasn't sure if it was because of something she'd done or if her friends just stopped being there for her. Her therapist felt that Quinn pushed people away to draw a disconnect from the life she'd lived when her parents were alive and the life that she had to live after they'd passed

Everything had changed after they'd died. Everything.

She didn't want to try to live that life anymore. It would have been impossible. So she'd started changing her patterns. And some of those patterns had involved her friends. In hindsight, it might have been a selfish coping mechanism. But it was something that she'd had to do.

Once she'd started coming to terms with things and realized what she'd been doing to her friends, she'd tried to get back in touch with them. But of course it wasn't the same. She was a different person than she'd been before. Some of her friends were waiting for the old Quinn. And that Quinn wasn't coming back.

That was why these new friends of hers were so important to her. They got to know her, the person she was now. And she was so grateful for them.

“I hear Sean's coming down for the party.” Quinn tried to sound nonchalant. She watched Darcy's reaction, and just as she'd expected, Darcy's eyes rose to meet hers.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Before I left, Ewan told me Sean was leaving work early tomorrow afternoon so he could get into Ballagh at a decent time. Sounds to me like he's looking forward to it.”

“It's a party, Quinn. One with lots of people. And food. And drinks. Just because he's looking forward to it doesn't make it breaking news.”

Quinn shrugged. “Just thought you'd like to know that he's coming.”

“And why would you think I'd care?” Darcy swirled the remaining whiskey in her tumbler, not meeting Quinn's eye.

“Because it's quite obvious to me that every time Sean's name is mentioned in any conversation, your ears perk up. I'm not blind, Darcy. So spill it. What's going on with Sean?”

Darcy stared hard at her for a second, and Quinn began to wonder if she hadn't spoken loud enough. But then she saw her friend's shoulders slump.

“God, I'm fucking hopeless.” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. “I must be slipping. No one's ever asked me about it before. I just thought that I was good at hiding it.”

Quinn smiled sympathetically at her. “Maybe I'm just uber-observant.”

Darcy laughed. After a moment, with no further response, Quinn thought that Darcy wasn't going to answer the question. Just as she opened her mouth to ask, Darcy said, “He's my white whale.”

“Your what?”

“White whale. Something that eludes you and you can't stop thinking about. It's such a horrible feeling.”

“How is it horrible? I think it's kinda nice to crush on someone.”

“Not when that someone doesn't even know you have a pair of tits.”

Quinn laughed. “I'm sure Sean realizes that you have breasts.”

Darcy looked down at her chest. “They're kinda hard to miss, aren't they?”

“Definitely. I wish I had some of those genes.”

Darcy looked over at Quinn's breasts and studied them, making Quinn feel a little self-conscious.

“Your breasts are the perfect size. Big enough to fill out a bra but small enough not to give you backaches. Do you have any idea what it's like to jog with these things?” she said, pointing to her chest. “The only sports bra that can help me out is strapped down with duct tape.”

They were both laughing, Darcy demonstrating how it was impossible to flatten her chest, when their waitress arrived at the table with their food.

It was a good thing too, because Quinn was starving. She took a bite and moaned.

“If I were on death row, I would ask for this to be my last meal.”

“Chicken fingers? Are you mad?”

Quinn laughed. “Nope. These are the best chicken fingers I've ever had.”

Darcy looked at her thoughtfully as she chewed her own chicken fingers. She rubbed her hands on the napkin on her lap and bent down to get something from her bag.

“Well, since those are the best chicken fingers you've ever had, maybe I can use them as leverage.” Darcy dropped some documents on the table with a loud thwack.

Although she had to squint to read them in the dim lighting, Quinn recognized the name of Darcy's school on the top of the brochure.

“What's this?”

“You said you didn't finish your graduate degree in Pittsburgh, right? What would you think about finishing it up here in Providence?”

The school's emblem was embossed on the brochure atop a beautiful campus shot with students crossing a common area.

Quinn did want to finish her degree. She figured that she'd get around to doing it at some point, but it had never crossed her mind to finish it anywhere other than Pittsburgh.

“The Rhode Island School of Design has a fabulous landscape architecture program. You are far more talented than any student I've come across already in their program. You could turn that place upside down with your creativity. And I bet all your credits from Pittsburgh would transfer over and you'd be done with the program in two years tops.”

Two years in Providence? Was that really an option for her?

The topic of how long she was staying in Ballagh had been something she kept pushing toward the back of her mind for a while now. She'd bought an open-ended ticket and had always assumed she'd leave at the end of August.

The truth was she didn't want to leave. Part of that could be because she didn't have a job or any real commitments. Another part could be because she had family and friends here whom she was growing quite fond of.

But most of all, Ewan made her forget about pretty much everything else.

About how hard it was in Pittsburgh just to make it through a day. About that memory-induced numbness that resonated through her bones. When she was around Ewan, all that went away, and she was left feeling alive.

Sunup to sundown was filled with possibilities. So was sundown to sunup, for that matter.

He was what she looked forward to every day. And although she'd thought at first it wasn't healthy to trade something negative like sadness and depression for something unhealthy like an obsession, she knew that what she felt for Ewan wasn't unhealthy.

In fact, she'd never felt better.

Looking at the brochures in front of her, Quinn silently contemplated the idea of continuing her education in Providence. She could keep this simple life. Keep her family and friends.

Keep Ewan.

“Hear me out,” Darcy said seriously. “You apply for the MLA program for fall admission just for shits. Then forget about it if you want to. But at least give yourself the option if you decide to stay. The application deadline is next week. Promise me you'll think about it.”

“I'd never thought about studying anywhere else before.”

“You'd do fabulous here. I can get you the number for the chair of the Landscape Architecture Department if you have questions about their program.”

Quinn nodded. “All right. I'll think about it. But why is this so important to you?”

She shrugged. “Maybe in a few years we can partner up our businesses or something. I handle interior design; you handle exterior design. But mostly, it's because I'm a selfish bitch. I just don't want you to leave.”

Before Quinn could tell her how good that made her feel, a group of loud guys passed the table, one especially drunk one spilling some of his beer on the empty chair next to Darcy.

“Hey, watch it, asshole!” Darcy yelled.

The guy didn't even hear her or notice that half of his beer had sloshed out.

“Jesus. It's hard to believe I was ever at an age that I'd find that type of behavior attractive,” Darcy said as the waitress swung by and collected their empty plates.

“Tell me about it.”

“Speaking of attractive, please tell me you've climbed to the top of Mount McKenna?”

Quinn barely swallowed her beer before barking out a laugh. “Mount McKenna?”

“Stop playing coy with me. Have you fucked Ewan yet?”

“My god, you are so eloquent, Darcy. You should have been a poet.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Stop evading the question.”

“Ah, yes, we've slept together.”

“I knew it!” Darcy shouted, hitting her palm on top of the table. “Oh, how I'd love to rub that in Lisbeth's face. Please let me be there when you tell her. Please!”

“I'm not going to tell her. It's not something I plan to broadcast to anyone. Besides, you would be the only one I'd tell anyways.”

Darcy raised her eyebrows. “Not even Erin?”

“Especially not Erin. Then Rory would know. God, how embarrassing.”

“That's true. Bad idea to tell Erin.” Darcy sipped her beer. “So are you guys, like, an item?”

“I'm not sure. I made it clear to him that if I slept with him, it would have to be exclusive.”

“And he agreed to that?”

“Yeah.”

“Good for you. Taming the beast.”

“Ewan isn't a beast. He's just misunderstood, that's all.” Quinn felt a sudden urge to defend him.

He was so much more than people knew. She knew that Ewan was just as much an enigma to her friends as he was to the rest of the townspeople.

“Are you trying to tell me that Ewan spoons after sex?” Darcy said with an incredulous look on her face.

Quinn laughed. “No, I wouldn't go that far.”

Ewan's fist smashed into his opponent's jaw with a sickening thud. His second adversary of the night stumbled backwards two steps before finally falling to his knees, his eyes trying desperately not to roll back into his head. Lucas Billings swayed as he knelt on the damp grass. Just a slight push with Ewan's index finger would send the young man over.

The crowd that gathered around them in the dark, early hours of Friday morning encouraged Billings to get up, but Ewan knew the man was finished.

Even with his two matches that evening, Ewan still had energy to spare. A nervous energy had been plaguing him all week long. He woke up in the morning with it, and he struggled to fall asleep at night because of it.

And he bloody well knew where it came from.

It had been four days since he'd seen Quinn. Four days since he'd heard her voice.

He was a goddamn fool.

He'd told himself at the beginning of the week that this was a perfect time to put some distance between them. The new and shiny period of their physical relationship needed to dull. The sooner it got to a “sex on an as-needed basis,” the better.

Yet, during the week, he'd found himself thinking about Quinn. And worse than that, wondering if she was thinking about him.

Like on Tuesday when he was walking up the front walk to his aunt and uncle's house. He'd noticed a cluster of tiny blue flowers growing next to the lamppost. He found himself wondering what type of flowers they were and knew immediately that Quinn would recognize them by sight.

What the hell? Since when did he give a damn about flowers?

Then on Wednesday morning, he'd felt something tickling his nose as he lay restlessly in bed. When he'd investigated, he'd found a long strand of honey-colored hair draped across the pillow next to him where Quinn had slept during the few hours of rest that he'd allowed her the last time they'd been together.

These fond little reminders had teased him throughout the week. And instead of allowing the warm, fuzzy, wistful feelings to linger, he'd immediately tried to shut them down.

He wasn't pussy whipped. No way.

Just because he periodically thought of her and wondered what she was doing didn't mean he was mooning over the woman.

But goddamn it, why wasn't she at least calling him? She was down in Providence with Darcy, who as far as he knew, drank like a fish and talked like a bawdy sailor.

On Thursday morning he thought about asking Sean to call Darcy to find out how things were going down there. That wouldn't be uncalled for, certainly.

But then he'd silently cursed his weakness for acting like a moonstruck teenager, and decided that a night of fighting was long overdue.

Lucas Billings and his twin brother, Will, had been after him for a while, demanding a rematch. Joe Calvin—a police officer and, ironically enough, the local bookie—made the arrangements. But the fun had been over way too quickly, and Ewan was once again plagued with the anxious energy he'd been trying to alleviate. Will Billings had put up the best fight and actually got a hit in to Ewan's ribs, which were now a touch sore. But after a right hook to the cheekbone and an uppercut to the gut, Will had dropped like a stone.

Lucas hadn't waited for his brother to clear out before jumping in. Pure instinct had caused Ewan to react more forcefully than he'd intended. Instead of drawing out the fight, he'd clocked Lucas in the side of the head.

It was disappointing. It hadn't even take ten minutes before the whole thing was over.