Fallacy (Apprehensive Duet Book 1) (35 page)

Then again maybe not. Quinn isn’t the type who shared her feelings easily. It took me a while to get her to let her guard down, and even then I didn’t get all the way inside. She may not have wanted to let anyone know she was afraid she was being cheated on. Whether or not she didn’t want anyone else to know is irrelevant in my book. She didn’t even bother to come to me. She didn’t try to confront me. If I had thought she was sleeping with someone else, damn right I would’ve confronted her. I would’ve demanded to know why. Why I wasn’t enough. Where I went wrong. If I could’ve fixed it. And how could I fix it? But she didn’t want to know any of that.

That’s the part of this whole puzzle that makes the least sense. If she was so sure I was stepping out on her, why not call me out on it? She’s always been a no nonsense, straight to the point person. She’ll tell you the things you need to hear, even if you don’t want to hear them. I’ve seen her do it a lot. With everyone. It’s the type of person Quinn is—or was back then. Why didn’t she confront me about this? Something so big. She just decided whatever she has built up about me in her head was the truth.

I’m tired of playing this game with her. She’s a thirty-year-old woman. She needs to learn she can’t treat people this way. Especially people that love her. I want answers, and I’m done waiting for her to give them to me.

This is why I find myself playing the role of stalker once more, on my way to sit outside her building to ambush her when she gets home from work. Again.

When I get to her place, I drive around the block hoping to see her car parked outside. I can’t access the building’s parking garage since I don’t have an access card.

I don’t see her car on the street, so I grab the first open spot and decide to head inside. I don’t think sitting in the car and waiting would be good for my mental state right now. It’s after eight o’clock so there’s a fifty-fifty chance she could already be home.

I smile at the doorman as he opens the door for me, thankful this isn’t the kind of place where they have a visitor’s list, and head to the elevator.

My intentions are much different today than they were the last time I came here. Before I just wanted to feel the situation out for myself. Now, I want everything I’m entitled to. The truth.

Anger is consuming me. And I don’t like to be angry. It’s a feeling very unfamiliar for me. I’ve never been the type of person to let things bother me. I’d like to consider myself mellow and easygoing. But there’s no more room left for being that guy. I’m holding on to my anger, and I plan on using it to get some fucking answers.

I feel cheated. Robbed of the beautiful life that Quinn and I could’ve been living if she had just fucking let me all the way in. She didn’t give me a chance to prove her wrong. She just moved on. Right on to Jordan. He better not be here. I need Quinn alone. It’s going to be hard enough to get her to talk.

I step off the elevator and turn down the hall toward Quinn’s place. Standing in front of the door, I don’t feel any hesitation this time as I bang on the door, using way more force than necessary. I have no idea if she’s even home, but I still find myself gearing up for battle.

I hear a grunt behind the door before the lock clicks, and she opens the door. She doesn’t fully open it, hiding behind it. “What are you doing here?” she demands.

She sounds annoyed and maybe a little pissed off. Good. That makes two of us. “We need to talk,” I say forcefully as I make my way through the door, not giving her a chance to tell me to go away.

“I don’t see what we really have to talk about, but sure, why don’t you come in?” she retorts, the sarcasm dripping from her voice as I basically slam the door behind me.

“Well, more precisely, you have some talking to do,” I respond sternly, looking her dead in the eye as I say it. I glance around and see nothing leading me to believe Jordan is here.
Good.

It’s easy to tell Quinn’s taken aback by my tone, but I don’t care at the moment. I handled this woman with kid gloves our entire relationship, and it got me nothing. Nothing but a broken heart and two years of unanswered questions.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” she says. Her stiff posture tells me the same thing mine is telling her. It’s time for battle. I’ve hardly ever been short with her or even raised my voice. Never wanting to scare her away, but she’s already away. There’s no place left to push her.

Except right into Jordan’s arms at the end of the aisle.
I push the thought out of my head as soon as it enters. There’s no more room for those kinds of feelings right now.

Not wasting any more time, I get right to the point. “I want to know why you left me. Tell me why you threw me away like I was nothing to you. How could you do that to me?” I growl, opening the floodgates.

“We were fucking over. It was a fling that had run its course. I’ve told you that already. It’s not that hard to understand,” she huffs with a heavy breath.

Christ, I think it would hurt less if she just slapped me in the face. She might as well put my heart in a fucking vice. Every time she down plays what we had, it feels like a punch to the balls. I’m not sure whether I want to drop to my knees and cry or throw up. “So help me God, if you call what we had a
fling
one more time, I may seriously explode.
We were not a fling.
Flings do not last two years. Flings do not have the connection we have. Stop. Calling. Us. A. Fling,” I say between gritted teeth.

“I call it as I see it, Alex. It's been two fucking years. Get over it.”

Get over it?
This woman is going to push me to the point of strangulation soon if she says that one more time.

“No, angel, what you had with everyone else was a fling. You’re a fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em kind of girl. Just one time. Wasn’t that your rule? You fucked me and only me for two whole fucking years. Why do you think that is? Because we were just a fling? Who’s kidding who, Quinn?” I say stepping toward her. I crouch down, making my face level with hers when I say, “We were more than just a fling, I’m sorry if you’re having trouble with that.”

“Maybe, but who knows if I was the only one you were fucking during those two years, so that makes it a fling,” she says planting her hands on her hips in a defensive stance.

Every stupid thing that leaves her mouth pisses me off more. I turn away from her needing a minute to cool down. Seeing her stand there accusing me of cheating again makes my insides boil. I want to scream at the top of my lungs in rage. “Where in the hell did you ever get the idea I was sleeping with someone else?” I turn back around and yell, fed up with all this bullshit. “There’s no fucking way you could possibly believe that. You never even asked if it was true. You didn’t want to know it was you and only you. I haven’t wanted someone else since the moment I laid eyes on you. You fucking owned me. But you didn’t give a shit about me. You just wanted to believe what you wanted to believe. So tell me the real reason why you left. Why did you run scared?”

I already knew she left because she was scared, but if I hadn’t known, the tiny gasp that leaves her mouth and the way her eyes widen in shock would’ve proved it. It’s gone from her face as quickly as it appeared as she puts her mask of indifference back on. Her body goes lax and she rolls her eyes as if she’s trying to act like none of this affects her. “I wasn’t scared,” she lies before turning the conversation back at me. “Why do you even care? We’ve moved on. I don’t understand why this still matters to you.”

I can feel the redness on my face. The veins bulging in my neck as each word leaves my mouth. I’ll make sure this woman understands the depth of my feelings for her before I leave this apartment, even if it kills me. “I care because I fucking love you. After all the shit you pulled on me—after you fucking gutted me—I still love you. It matters to me because I still fucking care about you. Even though I want to fucking strangle you, I still love you. You threw me away like I was yesterday’s fucking garbage and never looked back. After all that, you can at least have the decency to tell me why you ripped my heart out and stomped on it. And if you tell me one more god damn time it’s because we were a fling that ran its course, I can’t be held accountable for my actions,” I scream at her, letting out every ounce of pent up anger, hurt and frustration.

Her voice is cold as ice. “It’s been two years, Alex. You don’t still love me. I doubt you ever did.”

“Don’t tell me how I fucking feel. Stop trying to avoid telling me what the fuck happened,” I bellow. My irritation at her is rising to an all-time high.

“None of this even fucking matters anymore, Alex. What’s done is done. If I had known you were an asshole from the beginning, you wouldn’t have gotten past the first fuck. You can’t change who you are. This is fucking pointless. Telling you isn’t going to change anything,” she screams back, fisting her hands in frustration. I don’t know what she has to be angry about. She knows why she left. Things make sense to her.

I step closer to her, ensuring she knows I’m not going anywhere until I get answers. “That’s for me to decide. Now stop stalling,” I demand.

She heaves a few angry breaths before she opens her mouth to speak. I just pray like hell whatever she tells me helps me weave my way through this mess before I lose my fucking mind.

Quinn

15 years earlier

Thank God that stupid student government meeting was canceled. I have a huge paper due on Moby Dick next week, and really need today to make sure my outline is in order. I really hate this story, and I could use all the time I can get to make sure I get a good grade on this paper. I’m not going to let something like a boring ass book written hundreds of years ago get in the way of me getting an A. No matter how much I have to struggle to keep my eyes open while reading.

I’m going to be early for dinner with Daddy, but I’ll just work in his office until he’s ready to go. We have a standing dinner date every Thursday. I usually walk to his office to meet him after my meeting, but I’m sure it’s no big deal to wait in his office for a little bit until he’s ready to go.

My mind is still focusing on how to pull this paper off without going insane when I get off the elevator. Daddy’s office is on the top floor of the building. Being the owner of a huge company has its benefits that way. I’ve always loved it in here. The view of the city from up here is spectacular. I like the feeling of looking down on one of the busiest cities in the world. You can see all the parts working individually and together all at the same time.

I wonder where Jeanette is.
My father’s secretary is always there at her desk to greet people when they get off the elevator.
Maybe she has the day off?

I don’t give it another thought as I walk into Daddy’s office.

Oh my God!
I’m going to be sick.

Daddy has Jeanette bent over the side of the black leather sofa in his office, her tan skirt hiked up around her waist, shirt unbuttoned, bra pulled down under her boobs, exposing them. His pants are down around his ankles, his belt clinking on the marble tiles as he moves behind her.

I gag and try to hold back my puke quietly, but I’m unsuccessful. My near vomiting alerts Daddy to my presence.

“Oh shit,” I hear Jeanette gasp.

“Quinn,” he grunts. “I’ll be out in a minute. Wait downstairs.”

That’s it? I just caught my father fucking his secretary, and all he has to say is “Wait downstairs”? And he thinks I’m going to hang around and wait for him?

I bolt from his office, tears streaming down my face, back to the elevator as quickly as possible. I stab the “down” button repeatedly as I try to hold back the intense urge to vomit in the plants sitting beside the elevator doors.

I wipe my face on the sleeve of my uniform jacket as a hundred different thoughts run through my mind. How could he do this to Mom? I have to tell her. There’s no way she’d ever know otherwise. I never thought my father was capable of something so awful, I’m sure she doesn’t either. But how do I tell my mother what I just saw? She’s going to be devastated. Her entire life is dedicated to my father and making him happy.

I decide to walk home and clear my head. It’s amazing how the world continues to spin even when yours is falling apart. The cool air hits the wetness covering my face. I have no control over my tears. I can only imagine Mom is going to want a divorce when she finds out. My whole world is about to be turned upside down because Daddy couldn’t keep it in his pants. I just don’t understand. He lives a happy life. My parents’ marriage seems to be perfect. I always pictured my life would be just like theirs when I got older. Beautiful house, successful business—whenever Daddy retires—and a husband who adores me. Just like I thought Daddy adored Mom. Boy, was I wrong.

I don’t remember much from my walk home, but before I know it, I’m standing in front of our brownstone looking at it as if I’ve never seen it before. Everything it always represented to me has been false. All of my happy memories tainted. A black stain on my life. I feel cheated. How do I process this? Why can’t I go back in time so I can choose to study at school before going to Daddy’s office? How am I supposed to walk up these stairs and break my mother’s heart? I don’t have a choice. She needs to know this. She can’t let my father continue to make a fool out of her.