Quincy stared at him for a long time, and Gunnar stared right back. He
watched so many emotions play across Quincy’s dark face as Quincy’s mind
processed what he’d just heard. When Quincy focused his eyes back to
Gunnar’s, there was resignation in there.
“I didn’t think,” he admitted.
“Clearly.”
“I was so sure she would wait.”
“Obviously.”
“I didn’t think anyone else would want her.”
“Stupidly.”
Quincy glared at him. “I’m surprised a man like you would even bother
with her.”
There was spite in his tone, but Gunnar mused it was more directed at
Quincy himself than anyone else. Also, others had said something similar, so
there was a genuine surprise despite the fact they both wanted Tyler and only
one of them would have her.
The one being Gunnar.
“The greater wonderment is Tyler choosing me,” Gunnar said humbly.
The malice left Quincy’s face and he became crestfallen. “Truer words,
man.”
Somehow, they’d stumbled onto a tentative truce. In a way, they were both
the luckiest men on the planet; they’d somehow managed secure Tyler’s love,
to be blessed enough to bask in it. But one of them hadn’t been able to with-
stand the brightness of it, and he’d thrown it away. Gunnar was going to buy
the most top-of-the-line shades so he could withstand Tyler’s shine. There was
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no way he would let a third man experience it unless he was related to her in
some way.
“You know the moment you slip up, I’ll be right there to swoop in,” Quincy
said.
Gunnar grinned. “Gonna keep me righteous, are you?”
Quincy shrugged. “I’m not going to sabotage your relationship with her, if
that’s what you mean.”
Gunnar gave a tiny snort. “Like you could.”
They finished eating silently. Gunnar looked at Quincy during various
points and tried to figure out what would possess him to put a job over Tyler’s
love; what had been in Quincy that had made Tyler think he deserved even a
fraction of it. But mostly, Gunnar wanted to finish eating so he could stop by
Soul Cuts and hold Tyler in his arms.
Quincy held up his lemonade glass and stared at it. “What makes a
body…?” He shook his head and rolled his eyes, setting the glass back down.
Gunnar’s chewing slowed as he watched Quincy ball up his paper napkin and
set it in a plate still full of food. “She loves you?”
Gunnar remained expressionless despite his irritation at Quincy’s disbelief.
“She says she does.”
“Means that she does,” Quincy said, his lips quirking into a wry grin.
“Rarely does she say or do anything she doesn’t mean.”
“Even if it hurts her in the end,” Gunnar muttered, thinking of some of the
more extreme measures Tyler had been employing to lose weight.
“You mean like loving me?” Quincy asked, his tone dropping a few degrees.
Gunnar shook his head and let out a puff of air that could’ve been called
laughter. “Loving me.”
“You’ve hurt her?” Quincy’s voice had gotten even chillier than before.
“
You
did,” Gunnar corrected, the coldness of his voice matching Quincy’s.
“You still matter, even if she loves me.”
Quincy’s eyes widened, then they followed the server’s movements as he
took away his plate. Gunnar’s sweet tea was topped off, and once again they
were granted privacy in the full restaurant.
“Talk to her,” Gunnar said, unable to believe the words had come out of his
mouth. But he knew nothing he could tell Tyler would heal that part Quincy
had shattered. And if this man
really
loved Tyler the way he claimed, Gunnar
thought it was the least Quincy could do.
“I tried—”
“On
her
terms, not yours,” Gunnar clarified.
Quincy arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“She’s not coming back to you,” Gunnar said slowly, as if Quincy was hard
of hearing and slow on the uptake. “She’s not in love with you anymore, but
she’s still hurt by you. You owe her a healing.”
The Beauty Within
“What is this New-Age bullshit?” Quincy scoffed, smoothing down his tie
nonchalantly.
Gunnar’s lips formed a tight line and he bent forward, slate eyes pinning
down Quincy’s fudge irises. “
You
are bullshit. The hurt you caused Tyler is not.
And as much as I want to, I can’t fix it for her—”
“And you think I can?”
Gunnar sat back slowly, his rage seeping away and fear taking its place.
Quincy might not be able to. Gunnar hadn’t been successful thus far, and Lord
knew he loved her so much he’d marry her today if she’d let him—
“Shit.”
“What?”
Gunnar ignored Quincy. Marriage. He’d spoken of it before with Tyler, of
babies. He hadn’t realized how deep and immediate that desire actually was.
That he could love this strong, too-scared-of-her-own-strength woman so
much that he’d come to the very person who had broken her for help in
mending her.
“Tyler will be my wife one day,” Gunnar told Quincy matter-of-factly. “The
mother of my children.”
Quincy’s jaw clenched and he looked at the water rings the glass of his le-
monade had left on the table. “She should’ve been mine.”
“No, she shouldn’t have,” Gunnar said confidently and he smiled. “And Ty-
ler knows it too.”
“What?”
“Had you not left her, she would’ve married you and had babies with you,
knowing all the while she and they never
belonged
to you!”
Quincy’s eyes narrowed. “You better watch your mouth—”
“Why?” Gunnar asked, feeling giddy as his revelation overwhelmed him.
“You know it’s true!”
Quincy’s eyes shot to the ceiling. “And if they belong to
you
, why doesn’t
she think she’s good enough for you?”
Gunnar glared. “You cannot possibly be that naïve.”
Quincy dropped his head and his shoulders sagged. He wasn’t.
Gunnar stopped their server who was passing by their table and asked for
the check. Neither man spoke as they waited for the bill. When it arrived,
Gunnar took the leather fold and paid. Quincy didn’t offer to do so, but
Gunnar wasn’t offended; he’d requested the lunch. However, Quincy did leave
a generous tip.
“I’ll talk to her,” Quincy said as they put up their wallets. “On her own
terms.”
“Thank you,” Gunnar said absently, concentrating on signing the receipt
the server had brought to him to sign.
“I still love her.”
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Gunnar looked up, closing the leather fold over the signed receipt and
pushing it away so the server could get it at his leisure. “Never said you
couldn’t, or shouldn’t,” Gunnar said honestly. “You aren’t a threat to me.”
“Hmm.”
“You’re a threat to Tyler,” Gunnar said, “and as her man, it is my job to dif-
fuse that threat.”
“By having me talk to her?”
“Yes,” Gunnar said, smiling a little at Quincy’s skeptic tone. “You’re still
the Quincy of six years ago—the man who broke her heart and pissed all over
it. Tyler isn’t ever going to give herself fully to me because she sees herself as no
good, as she perceives
you
saw her.”
Quincy shifted in his chair as if Gunnar’s words were physical blows. “And
she told you all of that?”
“I love her,” Gunnar reminded him, standing. “She didn’t have to.”
A loud round of laughter broke the tension between the two men. Gunnar
glanced at a table of older black women who were having a lively meal. He
returned his attention to a still-sitting Quincy, whose expression was contem-
plative.
“I never meant to break her.”
“You did,” Gunnar said, very confident of that fact. “You wanted to break
her heart as she’d broken yours.”
“She loved me!”
“And she’s too good for you,” Gunnar hissed, careful not to bring any undo
attention to them as he walked to Quincy’s side of the table. “You said it
yourself, remember? She loved you too much, too good. You didn’t know how
to handle it, so you broke her down so that you could.
Fix it
,” Gunnar com-
manded, “so I can love her as she’s meant to be loved; so she can love me as fully
as she wants to love me.”
“Well that sounds mighty selfish!”
“Nothing selfish about wishing for someone to reach her fullest potential,”
Gunnar said, his smile sad as pity for Quincy filled him. “That was all she ever
wanted for you, man. Too bad you couldn’t wish the same for her.”
With that, Gunnar left
Jessie’s
and went immediately to Soul Cuts, the need
to see Tyler more necessary than his next heartbeat. He didn’t spot anyone
inside as he passed by the window to her door, but all of the lights were on.
Gunnar’s heart rate increased, and his hand trembled as it grasped the door
handle.
“Tyler?” Gunnar called as he stepped inside the shop. An eerie pall settled
over him, and Gunnar took a deep breath to calm himself.
“Tyler,
elskling
, please answer me,” he coaxed, his voice louder and he
walked to the storeroom. The door chimed. Gunnar looked over his shoulder to
see Quincy entering. The other man froze immediately.
The Beauty Within
“Tyler?” Quincy called, also sensing something wrong. Gunnar went quick-
ly into the storeroom. At first he didn’t see anyone, which freaked him out, but
not as much as the sight that greeted him when his eyes dropped to the floor.
Four brown fingers peeked out from a pile of bins, magazines, and cloth.
Gunnar opened his mouth to shout, but nothing louder than a squeak sounded.
“Gunnar?” Quincy asked, his voice flirting with alarm.
Air whooshed from Gunnar’s lungs. His knees buckled, sending his large
body crashing next to those fingers. Flashes of wet tile and terrycloth burst
behind his eyes.
“Oh, please God,
not again
!”
Her entire body felt as if two-ton weights were on it. She wanted to open
her eyes, but couldn’t find the energy to do so. She knew immediately she was
somewhere foreign; the air was too sterile and still to be her home or the
barbershop, and she opened her mouth to ask where she was, but only a gasp
came out instead.
“Easy…easy, Ty.”
Her brows quirked. Quincy? What was he doing here? Where was
here
?
Tender fingers brushed her hairline and she instinctively turned into them.
No matter how many years had passed, Tyler would always remember his
touch. It was so lovely, calming, arousing. Nice.
“Quin?”
“Yeah.” Quincy chuckled. “How are you feeling?”
“What are you doin’ here?”
A corner of his mouth fell from the smile he’d been wearing. “I had a confe-
rence, but I think it’s safe to say I’m not gonna be goin’ now.”
“Why?” Quincy eyed her as if she’d sprouted fur and tusks. “Me?”
“How are you feeling?” he asked again instead.
Tyler decided to go for honesty. “Can’t move.”
“You’ve got a cocktail of drugs in your system so you can sleep,” Quincy
explained.
“Sleep?”
“Yes, Ty,” he affirmed. “The very thing you haven’t been getting in weeks
apparently.”
Tyler managed to open one eye and she pinned it on Quincy. “You lecturin’
me?”
“No,” Quincy said. “Don’t need to, not with you laid up like this!”
Tyler closed her eye and grimaced. “Why I gotta feel like I went head-to-
head with a Mack truck and lost?”
“Sleep plus nutrients.”
“Nutrients?”
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Savannah J. Frierson
“Why haven’t you been eating properly, Tyler?”
Tyler would’ve jerked her head away from his touch if she had the energy,
but instead, she had to settle for rolling it slowly away. “Askin’ me that.”
“It’s a valid question,” Quincy said, his voice growing hard. He took her
hand in his. Tyler let him; it would’ve been too tiring to fight him on it. “Why
are you making yourself sick?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not eating; you’re not sleeping. Are you depressed?”
“Depressed!” Tyler exclaimed with a snort. “I’m not depressed.”
“Anxiety, then?” Quincy pressed gently. He enveloped her IV-injected hand
with both of his tenderly. “I don’t know how it could be that, though. You have
a successful business, a family who loves you, and a man who thinks you are
his very breath. It’s a nice set up if you ask me.”
“A man?” Tyler asked, her head lolling to the side away from Quincy.
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“I don’t know when you and Gunnar started, but I’m assuming it was after
that time I first came back to Soul Cuts.”
Her memory was mush. Only snatches of recognition came to the fore, but
suddenly gray eyes filled her mind and she squeezed Quincy’s hand instinctive-
ly.
“How is he?” Tyler asked on a whispered.
The pat on her hand was conciliatory and trite. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t?”
Quincy shrugged. “Exactly what I said.”
“Does he love me?”
Quincy stared at their hands as if weighing his words. “He says he does.”
She looked back at him. “But?”
“I haven’t seen him since the ambulance came to get you,” Quincy revealed,