Releasing Me (27 page)

I held out my right hand and wiggled my fingers.
“
Gimme, gimme, gimme.
”

Quinn set it on my lap and I braced it between my legs so I could unwrap it with one hand. The box was too big for a ring … my ring. I had assumed he would give me my engagement ring back or propose again, but he hadn’t yet. It was possible that he was playing the box within a box trick on me, but that seemed a bit too cheesy for Quinn.

After removing the gold tissue paper on the inside, I was intrigued to find books inside, old books. The first one I pulled out was a signed first edition of Robert Frost poems. The second was a signed copy of Ken Kesey’s
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
. The last book was a signed first edition of
The Cat in the Hat
. The three books were easily worth over fifty grand. The dollar figure wasn’t what surprised me, it was the three distinctively different genre of books.

“
My mother had them. I’m sure they’re worth a fair amount of money, but that didn’t matter to Chase and Alexis. They didn’t want them. I thought of you, not because of the specific books, just because you like to read and I thought you’d appreciate the sentimentality that they had belonged to my mother.
”

“
I don’t know what to say … I … I love it.
”

He sat down on the bed beside me.
“
Here’s the thing, I’m sure I fall into the ‘what do you get the guy who has everything?’ category, but you fall into the very rare ‘what do you get the woman who wants nothing yet has very little?’ category.
”

“
I have you, babe. What more could I possibly want, need, or handle for that matter?
”

Gently, he kissed my lips.
“
You stole my line.
”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Evan and
Mac
stayed through New Year’s. I was sad to see them leave, but it felt good to have Quinn all to myself again. Except, he too had to get back to work or reality as he called it. My face looked like a prism of colors and my ribs and shoulder were doing better, but I felt stiff and in need of physical therapy. At my four-week doctor’s visit, he gave me the go-ahead to start physical therapy. Stir craziness was setting in and I wanted to get out, even if only for therapy, but Quinn insisted we pay someone to come to me instead. Calling Quinn overly protective and nervous about me going anywhere alone was a monumental understatement. Instinctively, I wanted to fight him on it, but he carried around the horrific images of my naked, beaten, and for all intents and purposes, left-for-dead body in the parking lot, so I tried to be empathetic.

Time crawled as I fought to get better. Knowing I wouldn’t see freedom again until I had recovered and taken the
“
required
”
self-defense classes was my incentive to work hard with my therapy. Then there was the other little annoyance, or rather big annoyance … Quinn still thought I was too fragile for sex. By seven weeks post-attack my ribs were feeling much better, my shoulder had very little pain, and my face was healed.

Valentine’s Day was upon us and I thought if that wasn’t a free pass for sex, then I couldn’t imagine what would be. Quinn made reservations at a posh vegan-friendly restaurant. I dug out the metallic red dress with the single long sleeve that I wore to the Broadway play the night Quinn fucked me in nothing but my platform heals at his mother’s house. Since Christmas, he had been too calm and seemingly uninterested in sex. It was sweet and considerate for the first few weeks while I was still feeling stiff and uncomfortable, but then it started to drive me crazy. I started to feel a little rejected so Valentine’s Day was supposed to be my sexual tension reprieve.

Quinn, as usual, was ready first and waiting for me downstairs. He watched me navigate the stairs with caution in my tight dress and ridiculously high heels. His face was indiscernible.

“
Wow, Addy, you look amazing … just sexy as hell. In fact, screw dinner I’m just going to take you back upstairs and do all sorts of hot, nasty stuff to you,
”
I mocked since he wasn’t saying anything.

His tight lips curled at the corners, but he said nothing.

“
Cat got your tongue?
”
I purred as I slipped on my coat.

I tried to play it cool, but seeing Quinn in his suit and sexy, messy hair was wrecking my composure.

Quinn held the door open for me.
“
After you, my beauty.
”

The frigid night air nipped at my bare legs, but New York hadn’t seen snow for over two weeks. We took the Lamborghini and neither one of us could walk by the dent in the back fender without fighting a smirk. The drive to the restaurant was filled with casual conversation, at least on Quinn’s part. I reached over and suggestively rubbed his leg.

“
That feels good, a little more pressure. I’ve changed up my workout and my legs are pretty sore.
”

Not what I was going for
…

“
Oh, by the way, I have to fly to Portland tomorrow, just for one night.
”

“
Mmm, I could come with you and keep you
entertained
on the flight,
”
I said while tugging the hair at the nap of his neck. Feeling a twinge of pain in my shoulder, I brought my arm back down and tried to indiscreetly rub it.

Quinn glanced over at me.
“
Your shoulder still bothering you?
”

I scratched my nails across my skin.
“
No, just an itch.
”
Looking straight ahead, I avoided eye contact because I could never lie to his face.

“
Addy …
”
he said disapprovingly.

“
Quinn …
”
I mimicked his tone.

“
Did you do physical therapy today?
”

“
Yes, Doctor.
”

“
Why the smart mouth tonight?
”

I sighed.
“
Because I’m fine, but you keep treating me like I’m a china doll. You don’t want me going anywhere by myself until I take self-defense classes, but I can’t do that until I’m done with physical therapy.
”

“
I told you, if you take—
”

“
I’m not taking a bodyguard with me in the middle of the day to the grocery store, or to yoga class, or to volunteer at the animal shelter. Do you have any idea how understanding I’ve been about what you saw the night I was attacked? I thought eventually you would lighten up and realize how impractical and frankly ridiculous it is to expect me to stay hostage in the condo until you get home. Then there are the times that you’ve traveled. ‘
Sorry, baby, I’m going to sunny San Francisco for a few days, remember don’t go anywhere.
’ And I could have gone anywhere I damn well pleased, but I didn’t because I respected your need to protect me after what happened. But it’s been seven weeks and I can’t do this anymore.
”

Quinn could have responded, but he chose to get out of the car and hand the keys to the valet then he walked around the back of the car. I hopped out unassisted, walked around the front of the car, grabbed the keys from the valet, hopped in the driver’s seat, and sped off. Glancing in the review mirror to adjust it, I noticed my completely irate lover standing in the street with his hands on his hips and what may have been steam seeping from his nostrils. Was I trying to upset him? Yes. His lack of attention to me, other than in a fatherly, protective way, had played on my last nerve. I felt like an errant child looking for attention. Exhilaration coursed through my body from the power of the insanely expensive piece of metal on wheels weaving in and out of traffic with uninhibited freedom. It was freedom from the condo, freedom from being held hostage from my daily life, and freedom from the guilt that ate at me when I worried Quinn. If I wasn’t afraid, then neither should he have been.

The question was whether to go home or drive around for a while. Manhattan wasn’t exactly the most exciting place to drive around, especially in a car that begged for speed. My point had been made the moment I drove off without him; there was no need to drag out the inevitable.

*

Having had a go
od head start, I made it home easily before Quinn. My appetite disappeared when he gave me the silent treatment, so I changed my clothes and crawled into bed.
So much for chocolates, flowers, and romance.

The slam of the door downstairs startled me. My heart was racing and I held my breath waiting for Quinn to come upstairs. It was a standoff and I was not going to give in and go downstairs. Seven weeks of giving in and I was done. The surprising part was he never gave in either. At some point I fell asleep, and when I awoke in the morning I was alone in bed. His side hadn’t been slept in, and it was already past seven, which meant he was gone. But not just gone to work, he was on his way to Portland.

I got up and looked around just in case I was wrong, but I wasn’t. Not only was he gone, but there was no note or even a message left on my phone. Alone. I was all alone. The emotions came fast and furious as I crawled into a ball on the couch and cried. The anger felt like poison in my veins. We were not immature twenty-somethings void of relationship skills, we were mature adults who should have been able to have a grown-up conversation. Then the shame blanketed me because I had acted childish when I stormed off in his car. I blamed it on temporary insanity because I
was
going insane under house arrest.

However, the new day brought perspective to everything. It was too late to change the outcome of the previous night, but it wasn’t too late to let go of my injured pride and call him. I wiped my tear-streaked face and grabbed my phone. When I called him it went straight to his voicemail.

“
Hi … I wanted to apologize for taking your car … and um … leaving you. I was just so frustrated and angry and hurt. You wouldn’t say anything when I needed you to say
something
the most. Anyway, have a safe trip and we’ll talk when you get home.
”

Wallowing around in self-pity was getting old, so I had a shower and got ready for physical therapy. I obsessively kept checking my phone, but there weren’t any messages from Quinn. By the time I was done with physical therapy my patience had worn thin. Quinn still had not returned my call. Guided by thoughtless emotion, I called him again, and again it went to his voicemail.

“
I’m sure you’re busy with meetings or whatever, but I thought you’d at least have the courtesy to call me back or at least text me to let me know you arrived safely in Portland.
”

Five minutes later I called him again, this time he answered.

“
Addy, I can’t talk now. I’ll call you later.
”
His voice was short and he left no time for me to respond before he ended the call.

Bastard!

He might not have had time to talk to me, but he sure as hell was going to get a text whether he wanted it or not.

Thanks for hanging up on me, asshole!

The night I was attacked you refused to leave me home alone with my
“
thoughts,
”
but now you’re OK with it?

Want to know what
“
thoughts
”
I’m having?

I think you’re the worst fucking communicator ever!

I think I’m sick of New York and this damn bachelor pad of a condo.

I think something changed the night I was attacked.

I think you look at me differently.

I think you’re miserable having your ass anchored to me when you’d rather be living it up on the slopes or traveling with friends.

I think you’re afraid of breaking me, physically by having sex with me or emotionally by admitting you don’t want to have sex with me.

All these thoughts make me feel like crap.

I don’t feel needed by you, I don’t feel wanted by you.

I feel lonely and scared of losing you, and I hate myself for letting you be the damn gatekeeper to my self-esteem.

Last night I was so desperate for your touch. I needed to feel close to you, I wanted your touch so badly every cell in my body physically ached for it.

Don’t you miss my touch? Don’t you miss me
…
or us?

Maybe you don’t.

I sent the text without a second thought. Less than a minute later my phone rang; it was him. Letting it go to voicemail, I decided to get out for a while. I no longer felt compelled to follow his orders. All I needed was a normal day, a chance to regain perspective.

I spent the rest of the afternoon at the animal shelter and soup kitchen. That was all it took to find myself again. The more I thought about myself, the more I lost myself. I had to reconnect with the part of me that mattered the most, which was the part I saw reflected in others.

*

By evening I was in m
uch better spirits. The text I sent Quinn was the worst version of myself … all ego. However, I didn’t regret sending it. He needed to see how much I depended on my freedom and communication with him to function with sanity. I had started to feel like a zoo animal—trapped under the premise that it was for my own good. Sometimes it’s better to die in the wild than suffer in captivity.

After I ate dinner, I downloaded a new romance novel. It was bittersweet though. Quinn and I had been living the romance and my need to escape the black and white monotony of reality had been replaced with a colorful spectrum of spontaneous lust, love, and romance. It seemed like the fireworks had fizzled, and I needed that rush of passion again, even if it was just a fictional fix.

By ten I was halfway through the book, snuggled up on the couch in an oversized long-sleeved T-shirt and fuzzy wool socks. That was when I heard the click of the lock on the door. Motionless, I watched Quinn walk in and close the door behind him. He tossed his keys on the entry table, draped his hanging bag on the stair railing, and shrugged off his black wool overcoat. He was dressed in a charcoal suit with a white pinstriped shirt and a royal blue tie. With just his eyes, he pinned me to the couch as he walked toward me.

“
What are you doing here?
”
I whispered, because he wasn’t supposed to be home until the next day.

He removed his suit coat and tossed it on the chair, then he loosened his tie.

“
What am I doing here?
”
he said slowly with a pensive expression.
“
Where did you expect me to be tonight? When the love of my fucking life tells me she’s tired of living in New York … in my condo, where else would I be? When she tells me she feels like I look at her differently, or that my ass is anchored to her, or that she doesn’t feel needed or wanted. Where in God’s name did you honestly think I would be tonight?
”

My teeth clenched and the lump in my throat strangled me. Refusing to blink my tear-filled eyes, I shrugged my shoulders. Then, swallowing past that stupid lump of emotion, I fought for words.
“
Quinn—
”

“
No,
”
he interrupted, shaking his head.
“
You’ve had your say, now I’m going to have mine. I left my meeting in Portland and rushed back here as fast as I could because you wanted me to say
something
, so here it is.
”
He knelt down on the floor as I sat up straight on the couch. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a ring … my ring. Then he set it on the couch beside me before moving his hands up my bare legs until they squeezed the top of my thighs. His face was inches from mine, and his tense eyes and ticking jaw portrayed pure anguish.
“
I had planned on proposing to you on Christmas Eve … then you distracted me with your sexy little strip tease. Then Olivia called. Then I found you lying on the ground…
”
his jaw twitched as his eyes filled with tears
“
…I thought you were dead.
”
His voice cracked.
“
Every time I look at you all I see is your cold, injured body in the parking lot. I notice every grimace as you hug your ribs when you laugh or sneeze. I know it takes you twice as long to do your hair because your arm quickly fatigues. You love yoga, but you haven’t even attempted it since you were injured. So I’ve been carrying around this ring in my pocket looking for the right time to ask you to marry me. The time when I can take every inch of your body and claim it as mine again because I
do
miss your touch, I
do
need you, I
do
want you … so much it’s fucking killing me.
”