Indefinite (Salvation #6)(42)

She nods. “It’s definitely hard, but if you love him, it will be worth it. Plus, did you ever really let him go?”

Who the hell knows? “I thought I did.”

“But he’s back now and, yesterday sounds like it was what you needed.”

“We had a good day, but I’m not ready to make any decisions on what that means for us. I have more than myself to think about now.”

Everything was so easy for us. I smiled and laughed as we walked around New York. We had lunch at this little pizza place. It was probably the best pizza I’ve ever had, too. We were walking out of Central Park, saw a sign, and ate.

Then we walked back to my apartment, he kissed me on the cheek, and that was it.

“Then maybe there will be more good days.”

I release a heavy sigh. “I don’t trust us, Clara. I don’t believe that this is magically going to be a different relationship.”

“Maybe it won’t, but will you forgive yourself if you don’t find out?”

My heart sinks because I already know the answer. No, I never will forgive myself. A few years ago, that man stole my heart, and I’ve never actually gotten it back—no matter what lies I’ve tried to convince myself of.

“I really hope so.”

“Yeah.” Clara sighs. “Me too.”





I flop on the couch, legs sprawled out, arms limp at my sides after one half of a workout, which means I walked the Brooklyn Bridge—at a leisurely pace. To be honest, I’m not exactly the workout type, but I figure if I’m about to gain a ton of weight, what I can shed now is only going to help later. Still, I’m a little tired, it’s hard to walk and talk to your friends on the phone at the same time.

There’s a knock at the door, and I groan. I ordered McDonald’s after my trying to exercise experience, but now I have to get up to get it. Since I burned all those calories, it’s only natural that this is the best time to eat junk food.

“You’re ear—” I stop talking because it’s not my delivery. It’s Quinn.

“I’m what?”

“Irritating is the first thing that comes to mind.”

He grins because, at this point, insults are like a love language between us. “How was work?”

“Fine . . . what are you doing here?”

“Visiting.”

“I guess it’s better than stalking.”

Quinn chuckles. “Yeah. Listen, I would like it if we could have that dinner you eluded to. It’s around that time, and I’m hungry.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Both. “Can’t. I already ordered delivery.”

Quinn shakes his head. “Okay, I’ll do the same from wherever you ordered. We can have dinner here.”

“Yes, we could, but I didn’t invite you.”

He shrugs and enters without being invited. “Semantics. What did you get? And why are you all sweaty?” Quinn asks.

The whole not liking to lie thing is pretty irritating. Quinn is the workout God. He’s in the gym every freaking day. If I tell him I’m even the slightest bit into fitness, he’ll have me on some crazy plan that no human being who likes sugar and bagels could survive.

Not to mention, whatever rationale I have about eating fast food isn’t one he would ever support.

Mr. Eat Clean is going to lose his top. “I worked out—kind of. Oh, and I ordered McDonald’s.” I grab my phone to open the app. “What would you like me to add on for you, pumpkin? Since you’re joining me and all.”

His face is priceless. I can’t tell if he’s going to throw up or actually go along with it. Quinn believes his body is a temple and the only thing going inside is to further enhance his health.

I, on the other hand, could live on fries and wine. It does help that I inherited my mother’s ability to eat anything she wants and not gain a pound. Even if that weren’t the case, I still think I would want to enjoy food.

“I’m not really . . .”

“Oh, but you wanted to have dinner, pookie. It would be rude for you to suddenly decide otherwise, no?”

His eyes narrow. “You’re right, darling, what was I thinking? I’ll take a salad.”

I make a clicking noise with my tongue. “Damn, they’re all out.”

“Of salad?”

I nod. “It’s a nationwide issue with lettuce. Something about Ebola.”

“I think you mean E. coli, but sure.”

“Same shit. They’ve got chicken nuggets, burgers, fried chicken . . .” I rattle off options.

“Anything grilled?”

I turn my head and smirk. “What do you think?”

Of course they have salads and grilled chicken, but I’m not going to clue him in. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“Yes, yes I am. It seems that might be the only way to get rid of you.”

Quinn walks over, lazy smile playing across his lips. “Here we were, getting along, had a good day yesterday, and you have to go and say mean things.”

Please. I know better than that. “Have I offended your delicate senses?”

He laughs. “I’ll show you how non-delicate I am.”