“Janie, there is nothing to be sorry about-”

“But I assumed the worst, I saw you with Jem and I assumed that you- that you and her-”

His arms tightened around me, “Were playing ‘hide the salami’?” he quoted Elizabeth’s words from earlier which, despite the evening’s events, made us both laugh.

When the short burst of laughter ended I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck, careful to avoid his earlier injury, “Dan brought me here and told me what happened, with Jem. I am sorry she bit you.”

His hand rubbed circles over my back, with each pass his hand moved lower until he was stroking the base of my spine just above the curve of my bottom. “It’s ok. I don’t care about Jem.”

I pulled just far enough away from him so I could see his face. He looked tired, weary.

“I also-” I sighed, “You should know that I do trust you.”

He offered me a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “We can talk about it in the morning.”

“No- no, listen-” I shifted backwards and at first he didn’t let me go but then finally allowed me to stand from the bed. I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out the folded email, my voice was still thick with sleep, “Olivia- at least I think it was Olivia- left this on my desk yesterday and I was going to show it to you today.” I shoved the paper at him.

He looked from me to the paper then, with clear hesitation, took the sheet from my hand. I crossed to the bathroom and flipped on the light which gave him just enough illumination to read the contents. He pushed to the edge of the bed and stood, his long form unfolding, straightening, then stiffening as he read. A rush of breath escaped his lungs and his eyes flickered to me.

“I haven’t seen this but, Janie- I can tell you-”

I covered his hand holding the paper with mine, “No- it doesn’t matter. What I wanted to say was, what I want to say is that I saw this yesterday and- yes, admittedly, I had a momentary freakout but then I thought about it and I knew, I realized that I trust you. I knew there had to be a reasonable explanation and I was going to show it to you today, tonight, before everything went from Judd Apatow harmless to Quentin Tarantino horrifying.”

Quinn took a step towards me, shaking his head, “I asked them to-”

“You don’t have to explain. I just- I trust you, I trusted you. I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t worried. I- I- I have faith in you.”

This time his small smile did reach his eyes and he looked almost proud of himself, and a little mischievous. His gaze moved over my face in a slow sweep as he licked his lips, “Let me tell you what this is about, ok?”

I nodded, “You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” Quinn dipped his chin and leveled me with a measured stare. He glanced briefly at the email and handed it back to me, “After you and I talked on Tuesday, when you told me you didn’t want to take the plane back with everyone else, you felt uncomfortable leaving things undefined at work, I called Betty and tasked her with asking the lawyers to put a proposal together which would define work expectations in such a way that would allow you and I to continue our relationship outside of work.”

My attention moved back to the email as he continued and I tried to re-read it with this information in mind.

“Obviously they misinterpreted the request. I wanted them to set up something- tangible, legal- that you could feel good about, that would protect you in case our relationship… ever… ended.” One of his hands moved to the back of his neck and he began to rub the tendons.

“It reads like they interpreted your request, your main objective, to be protecting the company. They want me to resign so that you and I can date without putting the company at risk.”

“I’ll get it straightened out.” He shifted closer, running the back of his knuckles against the skin where my scoop-neck shirt met my chest.

I surveyed the email once more before stepping away from him to discard it on the dresser, “I know you will.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. Part of me wondered if it would just be better for everyone if I did quit. Then, I could date Quinn without making others uncomfortable about putting his company at risk.

“Hey-” he tilted my chin back until I met his gaze, “What are you thinking about? And don’t tell me robots.”

Despite myself, I gave him a brittle grin, “Maybe I should quit.”

He shook his head, “No. That’s not acceptable.”

“Quinn-”

“That would be bad for my company.”

“But at least-”

“What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that if you get to know me you’ll think I’m weird.” The words, words I didn’t even know I was going to say, blurted forth like a disobedient hiccup.

His gaze refocused, met mine directly, “I do know you and, you’re right, you are weird.”

“I’m afraid you’re laughing at me instead of with me.”

He shrugged, “There is nothing I can do about that. You’re funny.”

“I’m afraid that your money, and my lack of money, will come between us.”

He placed his hands on his hips, “It won’t. I won’t let it.”

“I’m afraid that I feel more for you then you feel for me.”

He shook his head slowly, “That’s not possible.”

“I’m afraid that we’re moving too fast and that this is just infatuation.”

“I don’t know what this is.” He breathed in as though he were going to continue but then paused.

Quinn studied me, held my gaze, his eyes moving between mine. He seemed to be considering his next words carefully.

I knew what I wanted him to say; I wanted him to tell me that this wasn’t infatuation, that he was certain we were meant to be together into eternity, that I looked pretty in this dress and ask me if I did something different with my hair, that I was the most beautiful woman in the world to him. It was what I wanted to hear because I was falling in love with him

…was in love with him.

Finally- his words deliberate, cautiously crafted- Quinn said, “I think about you all the time.” His gaze narrowed, his jaw ticked as though the confession cost him, “And I can’t guarantee that this isn’t infatuation because sometimes I think it has to be. But-” his gaze moved upward then to the left and over my shoulder, “- I don’t think of you as perfect.”

I frowned at him.

I don’t think of you as perfect.

“Oh… ok.” My eyelashes blinked in rapid succession and my brain started compiling the list of all my imperfections, “It’s because of my height? My seepage of trivial facts? My granny panties-”

“No- listen-” his attention swiftly moved back to me, “that’s not-” he shook his head and swallowed, “If this were infatuation- or just infatuation- then I would, we would become disillusioned at some point, yes?”

I nodded, I was sure unconvincingly.

He continued, “I don’t have misconceptions about you- that you’re flawless. And you don’t have any illusions about me. You’re too practical and- if you did- you wouldn’t have reminded me on Wednesday that I need to be a good guy.”

I nodded again, this time more convincingly albeit more wearily.

“I don’t think this,” he motioned between us, “I don’t think this is infatuation.” He shifted closer and I thought he was going to touch me but, instead, he crossed his arms and his voice became softer, gentler, “I know that life, in general, terrifies you; I know that you are frequently oblivious to the obvious; and I know you are completely irrational at times-”

I opened my mouth automatically because my brain was telling me to object but, surprisingly, I didn’t actually feel any outrage at being called terrified, oblivious, and irrational. His assessment was, more or less, on target. The fact that he knew these things about me, seemed to accept them, made me feel better and worse.

“- and it drives me crazy. You drive me crazy.” His voice deepened and he leveled me with a narrowed glare as he continued, “But, in spite of how totally nuts you are, I wouldn’t change anything about you.”

I pressed my lips together and started biting the inside of my cheek; I bravely met his pointed stare. “You think I’m totally nuts?”

He nodded and sighed, “Yes. And I-” his eyes moved over my forehead, eyebrows, nose, cheeks, lips, chin, “I still can’t stop thinking about you.”

I inhaled deeply, trying to breathe him in, trying to understand this desire to take him within myself and carry him with me always. He lowered just his head and my eyes began to drift shut.

“Janie…”

I sighed, “Yes?”

“What are you thinking?” his voice was a whisper.

I licked my lips, wanting his mouth on mine, driven to mad honesty, “I love you.”

I sensed rather than saw his self-satisfied smile, “Good.”

He softly brushed his lips against mine. My immediate confession-panic dissolved by the warmth of his closeness, his nearness blanketing me in a frightening sanctuary I never knew I wanted but now recognized was necessary to my continued existence.