Finding Perfect (Hopeless, #2.6)(12)

I’ve just never felt this pent up before. That phone call left me wondering if this is how Six has felt this whole time. Maybe she’s felt this way since the day she put him up for adoption, and if so, I’m a complete asshole for never recognizing it or trying to do something about it before this week.

We’ve walked around to the side of her house because she still uses her bedroom window every time she leaves Sky’s house. Right before she pushes it open, I grab her hand. She turns around and I slide my hand through her hair and pull her to me by her waist.

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says.

“I’m sorry I’m in a bad mood.”

“It’s okay. You were definitely a dick in there just now, but I know you. You’ll make it right.”

“I will.”

“I know,” she says.

“I love you. No matter what.”

“I know.” She pushes open the window and then says, “Come on, I’ll let you touch my boobs. Maybe that’ll get your mind off things.”

“Both of them?”

“Sure.” She climbs into the window and I follow her, wondering how I ended up with the only girl in the world who gets me.

And, despite knowing exactly who I am, she somehow still loves me.

When we’re standing next to her bed, I kiss her and it’s a good kiss. A distracting kiss. Right when I’m about to lower her to her bed, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

My adrenaline begins pumping even harder. I immediately pull away from her and look at my incoming text. I practically deflate when I see it’s just a text from Holder.

You okay, man? Need to talk?

“It’s just Holder,” I say, as if Six were even wondering who texted me. I slide my phone back into my pocket.

Six sits on the bed and pulls me on top of her, and even though I’ve been a complete asshole tonight, she lets me make out with her for fifteen minutes straight. She even lets me take off her bra. We haven’t had sex since the day in the maintenance closet, and that’s been a long damn time. But I like that we still have that to look forward to, and even though I can’t wait for it to happen, tonight is not the night I want it to happen. I’ve been a brat tonight. She deserves to have sex with me when I’m not acting like a brat.

My phone vibrates again, but I ignore it this time. Holder can wait.

“I think you got another text,” Six whispers.

“I know. It can wait.”

Six pushes against my chest. “I have to pee, anyway.”

I roll onto my back and watch her walk into her bathroom. I pull my phone out of my pocket and see a notification from my Gmail.

My heart twists into a knot and I hit the notification so hard, I’m surprised I don’t drop my phone.

It’s an email from someone named Quinn Wells.

I don’t know that name.

I don’t know that name and that’s good. This could be good. I’m standing now. Pacing. The toilet is flushing. I read the subject line.

Hi.

That’s it. It just says Hi. I don’t even know how to interpret that, so I keep reading.



Dear Six and Daniel,

Graham told me about your conversation.

It’s odd, because I’ve written countless letters to the biological mother of my child before. Letters I knew I would never send. But now that I know you’ll actually read this, I don’t even know how to start.



“Oh my God, holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck yes.” I cover my mouth with my hand and stop reading because this isn’t something I should be reading alone. Six needs to read this. She walks out of the bathroom and sees me standing by her bed. I motion for her to hurry up and sit down.

“What?”

“Sit. Sit.” I pat the bed and sit next to her and she’s so confused, but I can’t find my words right now to explain what’s happening, so I just start rambling and hope she can decipher it all. “So, I made some phone calls the other day. And then this guy called me today and I didn’t know if we would hear anything back, so I didn’t say anything to you, but…”

I shove my phone in her hands. “Look. Look at this. I haven’t read it yet, but…”

Six grabs my phone, eyeing me with warranted concern. She breaks our stare and looks at the phone screen. “Dear Six and Daniel,” she says aloud. “Graham told me about your conversation. It’s odd, because I’ve written countless letters to the biological mother of my child before. Letters I knew…”

Six stops reading and looks up at me. I can see in her eyes she has no idea what this is, but she’s hoping it’s what she thinks it is, but she’s too scared to think that.

“It’s them,” I say, pointing down at my phone. “Quinn Wells. That’s her name. And her husband’s name must be Graham. Quinn and Graham. They have our baby.”

Six drops the phone and covers her mouth and I’ve never seen eyes fill with tears as fast as hers just did. “Daniel?” she whispers. Her voice is cautious. She’s scared to believe this.

I pick up the phone. “It’s them,” I say again.

“How?” She’s shaking her head in complete disbelief. “I don’t understand. You talked to her husband? But...how?”