Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

QUINCY

T oday was Arizona and Layton's big Sports Illustrated body image photo shoot. I wonder how they dealt with Layton's bruised cheek after our bench-clearing brawl with Whittaker and his team last night. I smile at the memory of Layton and I both pounding Whittaker with our fists over and over until our teammates and coaches pulled us away.

If nothing else, I know Lancaster cares about my sister. He was a man possessed last night. I got choked up with emotion over him taking the brunt of things so I didn't get suspended, though we both got ejected from the game.

Then my mind drifts to the photo shoot. I cringe at the thought of them half-naked together all day. I know she was nervous about it, so I want to check on her.

I dial her number, and she answers after one ring, completely out of breath. She pants, "Hello. "

What the hell! "Where the fuck are you?"

"You're cheery as ever, grumpy. I'm out on the river jogging." Phew . "What's up?"

"Oh, I just wanted to see how today went."

"It…it was fine."

"Did something happen? Did he try to touch you inappropriately?"

"Ugh, no. Cut it out. Layton was fine. It was just a long day. I'm beat."

"Then why are you jogging?"

"It helps me think. I've got a lot going on right now, Q."

"I know you do. I'm sorry. What are you and Rip up to tonight? Do you want to hang out?"

"Honestly, I just want to take a long bath and go to bed. Ripley has a date. She's not around."

I grind my molars and try to sound calm. "Who with?"

"I don't know. She wouldn't give me any details, but she was excited about it. She bought a new dress and looked gorgeous in it."

Calm. Stay calm. "Any clue where they went?"

"I think she said Zahav. Whoever it is must have money."

Zahav is one of the nicest restaurants in Philly. It sounds like this sleazeball wants to get into her pants.

"Cool. Are you okay from yesterday? Everything with Whittaker?"

"I've been watching GIFs of him getting laid out by Layton all day. It was pretty fucking awesome."

I smile. "It was. Layton was brilliant. It was all his idea."

"I know. Thanks, Q. Love you, stinky pants. "

"Love you too, Z. Have a good night."

"You too."

I pull up the Uber app on my phone. Where to? Zahav.

RIPLEY

This date is going really well. The best I've had in a long time.

Brandon is sweet and attentive. And so cute, with thick brown hair and a sexy beard. He's asking me a lot of questions and seems genuinely interested. We've been texting on and off for a few weeks. Yesterday with Quincy was the push I needed to finally say yes to Brandon about having dinner. He was thrilled and asked to do so immediately.

I'm glad I did this. I need it to move on from the hold Quincy has over me.

My date is the opposite of Quincy, being so mellow and easy-going. Though Quincy is outwardly like that with others. Just not always with me.

Brandon has a job in finance but was a former college football player. An offensive lineman. I need a big man, and he more than fits the bill.

"How was it playing football in college?"

"A huge time commitment. You know all about that though." He smiles. "I googled you. Wow. You're incredible. A few national championships, player of the year finalist, and you're considered a shoo-in for the 2028 Olympic team."

I bat my eyelashes. "Not bad for the awkward, chunky kid, right? "

He picks up my hand and kisses it. "I think you're the most stunning woman I've ever seen."

He pulls his hand away and sits up straight. "Sorry. I don't mean to come on so strong."

I smile softly. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"I was trying to learn the differences between softball and baseball. I know it's a bigger ball and a smaller field. What about pitching? Are there differences there too?"

"The biggest difference in pitching is our motion. In baseball, they pitch overhand from a raised mound. In softball, we pitch underhand from a flat surface."

He nods. "Is it all the same kinds of pitches?"

"Mostly, except we can throw a rise ball in softball. There's nothing like it in baseball. A rise ball looks like it's coming into the strike zone but because of the spin, it rises at the last second. It's a wicked pitch. If thrown correctly, it's hard to hit."

"How well do you throw it?"

I try to remain humble. "Pretty darn well…most of the time."

"Wow. That's so cool. I want to see you play. Your family must be so proud."

"I have a small family. I was raised by a single mother, and I never knew my father."

"Oh, did he pass?"

"Honestly, I know nothing about him. My mother has always been reluctant to talk about it."

"That must have been hard growing up. Things fathers do with their daughters. Father-daughter dances and the like."

I consider his words as Quincy pops into my mind. He always took me to that kind of stuff. Come to think of it, we never discussed anything. It was assumed every time I needed a surrogate male in my life, Quincy would be there. Always there for me in his own special way.

Brandon clears his throat. "I lost you. Where did you go?"

"Nowhere. I'm sorry."

"We're all settled up. It's a nice summer night. Would you like to go for a walk?" He gives me a boyish grin. "I don't want the date to end."

I nod. "I'd love to."

We walk a few blocks hand in hand. He makes it clear that we're near his apartment, even pointing to the building. I think he's feeling me out to see if I'm willing to come to his apartment tonight.

At some point, he stops and pulls me into his arms. His body is tight to mine. Smiling down at me, he admits, "I really like you."

I run my fingertips through his thick beard. "I like you too."

I do like him. It's the best non-Quincy date I've been on in years. Maybe there is life after Quincy Abbott after all.

He begins to lower his lips toward mine. I close my eyes and tilt my head to the side, anticipating his kiss. Just as his lips touch mine, he's gone. His lips, his arms, his body, all of it.

I blink my eyes open to see Quincy shoving Brandon. He barks out, "Keep your hands off my wife."

Brandon's eyes widen in horror as he looks my way. "You're married?"

I sigh. "Yes and no. I can expla—"

Brandon holds up his hands in surrender. "Please don't. I like you, Ripley. I like you a lot, but I want no part of this. You two work out your shit. Call me if and when you're truly available." He turns and walks away.

Tears fill my eyes as I ball my fists in anger. I'm so mad right now. I shout, "What are you doing here?"

"I don't want my wife kissing other men." He runs his fingers through his hair over and over. "I can't watch it."

"No one asked you to come here and watch it. Are you fucking crazy? What's wrong with you? I'm not your wife."

"Yes, you are. He can't have you. You belong to me."

"You can fuck anyone you want in our little arrangement, but I can't?"

"I haven't fucked anyone since you got to town."

"Get the man a medal." I throw my hands up in the air. "God, Quincy! This whole thing is so messed up. I can't have you holding me back anymore. I want a divorce. I'm not kidding. I need to rid myself of you."

"No."

"Why? Just let me go. You don't love me. We want different things. We're no good for each other. I want my happily ever after. You're incapable. Don't you want me to be happy?"

He looks pained but says nothing.

I hold my hand up for a cab and one stops. As I'm getting in, I say, "It's time. I'm getting an attorney. I can't do this fucked up dance with you anymore."

I shut the door. Just as I'm about to give the cab driver my address, the other door opens, and Quincy gets in. He immediately gives the cab driver his address.

"Quincy, I'm not going home with you."

"We need to talk."

"Quincy, we're friends. We started as friends. I want to stay that way, but you're making it increasingly difficult. Your sister is the most important person in the world to me. I don't want problems. I just need to move on from you. It's time. You need to accept it."

"Please. Let's talk."

I throw my head back on the seat. Why am I so weak for this man? I hate feeling weak. I've spent my whole fucking life trying to be strong. I had no father. I had a mother who was a child herself. There were more times than not that I had to be the adult in my house.

This man is my fucking kryptonite.

A few minutes later, we arrive at his luxury building in the most upscale neighborhood in Philly.

We quietly make our way up to his condo. As soon as he opens the front door, I bark out, "Five minutes. You have five minutes, and then I'm leaving you. For good. I mean it."

We walk in and I get about a half a step past the door before he shuts it and has me caged in. His body is pressed to mine.

My anger resurfaces.

I look into his eyes, which are mere inches from my own. "How dare you screw up my date. The first man I've had any interest in for a long time."

"I can't stomach the thought of another man touching you."

I need to hit him where it hurts. "You do realize that I've fucked other men, right?"

His jaw tics.

"They've touched me, kissed me, tasted me, been inside me. Deep inside me. I don't belong to you. I never will."

He rubs his thumb over my lower lip. "We both know that's not true. If I snapped my fingers, you'd get on your knees for me right here and now and suck my cock with a big fucking smile on your face."

Without thinking, I rear my hand back and slap him in the face. Hard.

The shock of it has him frozen for all of two seconds before his hand is on my throat. It's not intended to hurt me. Just the opposite. He applies the pressure he knows gets me off. Shit.

His forehead meets mine. We're breathing heavily, not from physical exertion, from emotional.

I whisper, "Let me go." I don't mean his hand on my throat, and he knows it.

He whispers back, "I can't."

I can smell his breath. It's so…so Quincy, and I need it like I need oxygen.

"Please, Shortcake, one last time. If you're really leaving me, let me have you one more time."

"And then you promise you'll let me go?"

He gives me a small nod.

Because I'm weak and in love with him, I make the worst possible decision. I slide my tongue out and lick across the seam of his lips.

He starts to run his hands up and under my dress, but I shove him away and walk him backward toward the sofa. "You know what? I'm sick of always doing this your way."

He smiles as he continues moving backward. "Always? We haven't been together in two years."

"Well, we always did it your way." I shove him again. "Tonight, I'm in charge."

His eyes practically glaze over with lust. "Yes, have your wicked way with me."

I push him down on the sofa. "Lay down."

He immediately listens. I'm loving bossing his normally bossy ass around. If the giant bulge in his jeans and the shit-eating grin on his face are any indication, he's loving it too.

I reach under my dress and pull down my panties. After kicking them to the side, I climb on top of him, approaching his face.

I straddle it with my bare pussy to his mouth. "I need a good orgasm. Make me come. Hard. "

He mumbles into me, "Yes, ma'am," as he spreads my lips, and his long tongue enters me.

Admittedly, no one I've ever been with does this as well as Quincy. The speed at which he can make me come is unparalleled.

I run my fingers through his hair because I've missed doing that. I love his hair.

My hips take on a life of their own as I basically fuck his tongue.

His fingers work my clit over like a man who knows my body inside and out. It's mere minutes before I feel my orgasm rising to the surface.

"Oh fuck, Quincy, that's good."

I need this so badly. So much pent-up energy and frustration. Sadness and anger.

His long tongue slides in and out of me. I can feel my walls squeezing him.

He mumbles something about strawberries. I'm too lost in pleasure to comprehend.

It builds and builds until I have no choice but to let go. My vision goes blank for a moment, and I see stars. I can feel my juices pour out of me. He slurps up every last ounce.

Fucking hell, I needed that.

I take a deep breath and start to move off his face. I know what he thinks is going to happen, but it's not.

Standing, I grab my panties and start to slide back into them. His eyes narrow in anger. "What are you doing? Sit on my cock!"

After pulling up my panties and fixing my dress, I lean over and lick across the seam of his mouth again. This time, I can taste myself.

I run my hands through his curls and whisper into his mouth, "You owed me that goodbye. Thanks for the orgasm." Giving him one last soft kiss, I breathe, "We're over. For the last time, I want a divorce. If you don't call an attorney, I will. I mean it."

At that, I turn and walk straight out of his condo and close the door behind me.

I'm filled with pride. I've let Quincy dictate every aspect of our relationship since day one. It's time for me to take a little control back. Maybe I'll be physical with him again sometime and maybe I won't, but it's not coming from manipulation. Not when he crashes my date and scares the poor guy away. How dare Quincy do that to me after all he's put me through.

When I reach his lobby, it occurs to me I shouldn't go home. When Arizona was out jogging, Layton stopped by. He wants her. She wants him. I let him inside to wait for her. They need a night alone without me interrupting them.

Tears begin to sting my eyes as I meander toward the front door of the building. Before I approach it, Blanche and Thor walk through. She's clearly struggling to control the giant beast. She's going to break a hip if she keeps this up.

I wipe my eyes, which she notices. "Ripley, sweetheart, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I hold out my hand for the leash. "Let me help you take him to your apartment."

"You don't have to, dear."

I try to smile. "I'm happy to."

I take the leash, and we head back up. I'm careful to be quiet as we pass Quincy's door, feeling better once we're inside Blanche's apartment.

I release Thor, and he flops over to his water bowl, downing about a gallon per lick and spilling just as much on the ground.

Blanche gives me a compassionate smile. "I'm going to make some tea for both of us. "

I nod, unable to form words right now, simply grateful for her compassion in my time of need.

She fiddles around in the kitchen before coming back out and pouring us both cups of tea. She motions for me to sit on her sofa as she does the same.

"Do you want to tell me what, or who, has you so upset? Perhaps a certain neighbor of mine?"

I'm quiet.

"You're in love with him."

I close my eyes and tears stream out of them as I croak out, "But I don't want to be."

She lovingly rubs my hand. "Tell me the story of you and Quincy. I've heard tidbits from him, but I got the feeling yesterday that it's a longer one."

"What makes you so sure?"

She gives me a small smile. "Eighty-plus years of on-the-job training. Tell me everything. Don't leave anything out. These old ears can handle it."

So I do. I unload everything on this poor woman. For nearly an hour, I get all of it off my chest. Every feeling, every insecurity, every rejection. She listens. She holds my hand. She lets me cry. It's a purging that I didn't realize I needed.

By the end, she's crying too. "Oh, Ripley, you're so deeply in love with him."

I close my eyes and whisper, "I know. I hate myself for it."

"Why?"

"I want to be a strong woman, not a weak one. Loving him makes me weak."

"No, it doesn't. From what you've told me about your life, you're incredibly strong." She squeezes my hand. "I never had a daughter. I have one son who I rarely see. If I ever had a daughter or granddaughter, I'd want her to be exactly like you."

"A mess over a man she'll never have? "

"No, one who loves with her whole heart. Flaws and all."

I take a tissue from the box she offers and blow my nose. "I can't go on like this."

"Don't give up on him. Can I tell you what I think?"

"Please."

"I think he loves you too. He'd be crazy not to. It's just unexpected for him, and he doesn't know how to handle it. Look at his actions. He can't bear to see you with another man. If he didn't care, he wouldn't feel that way. Give him time. He'll get there eventually. Sometimes men don't see what's right in front of them. It takes them longer than us to see the truth in things. I think he has some demons that have nothing to do with you. Give him space to work on those before you completely write him off."

I nod, not in agreement, simply in understanding. Quincy never has and never will love me, but I'm not arguing with her over it. "Can I stay a little longer? My roommate needs the place to herself. Unlike me, she has a man who's making his intentions clear."

She sets her tea down and stands. "You'll stay here tonight. I'll make up the guest bedroom for you."

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

She smiles. "I haven't had a girly sleepover in seventy years." She rubs her hands together in excitement. "I'll make popcorn, and we'll watch a movie. What's your favorite movie?"

"I've always loved Top Gun ."

"You like the scene where he sings to her, don't you?"

"How did you know?"

"You're a romantic, like me. My husband used to sing to me all the time. He had the best voice."

"Will you tell me about him?"

"I'd be happy to."