Perfect Pairing (21 page)

“Everything comes with a cost, Quinn.”

“Of course it does, but we can manage those. I promise I'll make sure you have what you need.”

Hal's stomach twisted. Quinn was trying, and Hal believed she'd do her best. She'd give her anything within her power, but Hal valued things that couldn't be controlled, not even by a woman like Quinn.

“You deserve your own restaurant, your own kitchen, more than
anyone I know, both for who you are as a chef and who you are as a person. You're the best, and you deserve the best.”

No one had ever spoken to her like that before. No one had ever valued her that way. Emotion clogged her throat, proving that Quinn's faith in her mattered, maybe even more than she cared to admit.

She didn't want to betray the first person who'd ever made her feel like she could be something bigger and better than she'd expected from herself. But Quinn's logic was flawed. Just because she could didn't mean that she should. What if she already had the best for her? She'd made so many of her choices in life out of necessity, but did that mean she'd made the wrong choices? Living without ties, without roots, was the only thing she knew, but she also knew how amazing freedom could feel. How could she ever make someone like Quinn see what she'd found on the other side of control?

“Hey.” An idea shot straight from her brain out her mouth. “You have the Thursday of Fourth of July off work, right?”

Quinn raised an eyebrow but didn't pull away. “Yes.”

“Think you could just go ahead and take Friday off too?”

“It's a little short notice, but I haven't used a vacation day in two years.”

Hal shook her head at the absurdity of the statement but tried to focus on the main idea. “So if we left early the morning of the Fourth, you wouldn't have to be back until Monday morning?”

Quinn seemed to think for a moment. “A four-day holiday weekend. I suppose that's not unheard of, is it?”

Hal laughed. “Not for most Americans.”

“But why would I want to take so much time off?”

“Oy, because four days off of work for one. But also because I think it's only fair that if you got to dangle the best part of your business model in front of me, I should at least have a chance to show you the best of what my world has to offer.”

“And what's that?”

Hal grinned and could barely keep herself from doing a little chair dance as she sang out, “Road trip!”

“So are we just going to not talk about how weird this is?” Sully asked, flopping onto the bed and messing up all the laundry Hal had just folded.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Okay, good. Denial. Always a valid option. Let's run with it.”

Hal tugged a navy blue T-shirt out from under Sully and tossed it into a duffle bag. Maybe if she just ignored her, she'd go away.

“Totally normal, you and Quinny B going on a road trip . . .”

Apparently not going away.

“You're like Bonnie and Clyde, or Thema and Louise, or some people who went on a road trip
without
killing anyone.”

Hal rolled her eyes.

“Oh, Bill and Ted. You and Quinn are Bill and Ted off on an excellent adventure.”

“They didn't exactly go on a road trip.”

“Sorry, dude. Looking for a frame of reference but not finding one. This shit is pretty random, you have to admit.”

“Maybe.” Hal sighed. And by maybe she meant totally. She didn't even know why she'd tried to pretend otherwise. “I didn't think it through.”

“'Cause you were fucking her at the time?”

“No!”

“'Cause you wanted to be fucking?” Sully nudged her. “No shame there. We've all said things we regret to get a woman into bed. How do you think I got all those rope burns last year?”

“No. The invitation had nothing to do with the sex,” she said emphatically, before adding more quietly, “at least not directly.”

“What then?”

“I don't know. She just started talking about the restaurant again, only this time she sounded sincere, and I started to see her point. She's not just in it for the money.” She paused, waiting for Sully to scoff or make some smart-ass remark, but she only stared back at her. “What, no argument about her motives?”

“Actually, no. I came to that conclusion weeks ago.”

“Great. Everyone in the world saw Quinn's side of things long before I did.”

“Doesn't mean she's got the only side worth seeing.”

“Exactly. That's why I invited her with me this weekend. I want her to see what I'd have to give up in order to jump on board with her.”

“Are you sure you're not trying to get her to jump on board with you?”

“What? Yeah. Of course. We're not going to ride Cheesy Does It off into the sunset.” She respected Quinn, liked her even, and lusted after her a lot, but they wanted completely different things out of life. Their values didn't match up at all. This trip would show them that for sure.

“Just checking,” Sully said, sitting up. “Don't get me wrong, I'm happy not to have to bust ass all the way to Beantown with you. I just don't want you to get hurt.”

“I don't think you have to worry. Quinn and I both know the score. Besides, I didn't say you couldn't come with us. It's not like we can have sex for four days solid. I do have a real catering gig.”

“Yeah, sure. In that case, why don't I come along? Me, you, and your fuck buddy cooped up in a food truck. That doesn't sound awkward at all.”

“She's not my—”

“Sure, whatever you have to tell yourself. But I haven't had a holiday weekend off in, like, ever. Don't take that away from me.”

Hal shook her head. Sully had made too big a deal out of this trip. She was going to go cater a private party, play with some new recipes, and if she had time, she and Quinn would see a few of the sights. Getting bogged down in detailed plans or relationship ties wasn't on the agenda. The weekend didn't have to be anything more than a taste of sweet freedom.

Chapter Fourteen

Quinn had been waiting by the window for ten minutes before Hal pulled up at six a.m. sharp. She hurried out to meet her with a rolling carry-on in tow.

“Wow, I thought I might have to come in after you. I should've known you were a morning person.”

“I'm always up and dressed at this time of day,” Quinn said truthfully, failing to add she'd never been quite so happy about it as she was today. She barely even needed the second cup of coffee she carried with her.

Hal stowed the suitcase and flipped down the passenger seat. She didn't have quite the same pep in her step as Quinn did, and her dark eyes were hidden behind darker sunglasses, but she smiled as she said, “All set, copilot?”

She had the urge to lean over and kiss Hal on the cheek, but she resisted. She still didn't know exactly what kind of trip this was or what kind of relationship they had, so she played it safe and fastened her seat belt snugly. “I'm good to go.”

“You want to play navigator?”

“Great. Yes,” Quinn said, “assuming, of course, that means I get to know where we're going.”

Hal grinned as she pulled onto Allen Street. “You get to know where we're going
first
.”

“So we're going more than one place?”

Hal shook her head. “I see what you did there. I said you were about to get something you wanted, and you automatically reached for more.”

“It's what I do, Hal,” Quinn said unapologetically. “I always want more.”

“Fine, you know what? Let's go with that. This weekend it's okay to want more. We've got a few set stops, but between them, if you get a whim, just say the word.”

“Really?” Quinn felt a wave of giddiness crash against her natural wall of suspicion.

“Really.”

“All right. Then I do want to know where we're going first.”

“Boston.”

“Massachusetts?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Hal said. “Bay State, seafood, and one of the nation's most impressive fireworks displays, here we come.”

“I've never been to Boston.”

“Really?” Hal asked. “It's one of my favorite cities.”

“Outside of Buffalo?”

“Of course. Wherever I may roam, Buffalo is my home.”

“Roaming and Buffalo, seems like a good fit,” Quinn said, then admitted, “I wouldn't really know though. I don't leave the city often. I've been to Toronto and a conference or two, but there's never time for sightseeing.”

“You didn't take vacations growing up?”

“No. Stepfather number three liked Vegas, but you don't take kids there, at least not during the nineties. What about you?”

“No. No one takes their foster kids to Disney World.”

Quinn's chest constricted, but Hal kept talking evenly.

“Actually, you know that's probably not true. I am sure some people do. Maybe if I'd stayed in one home long enough, I might have gotten chances like that.”

“Were there ones you wanted to stay in?”

“Sure, a couple. Early on, I had those childish fantasies that my mom would get her shit together and get me back, and then we could find my dad and be a happy family again. Only, we'd never been that. It wasn't even a possibility. I just didn't know enough about the situation to understand how things worked.”

“Families are hard things to understand.”

“I knew about divorce. I watched a lot of T.V., but I thought all babies came from a mom and dad who were married. I believed everyone
got this awesome starting point, then sometimes things went awry.”

“I take it your parents weren't married then?”

Hal snorted. “Not even on full-name basis. I was apparently the product of a one-night stand, and I've always suspected my mother didn't know which one-night stand, exactly. Or maybe she didn't remember that night very well.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, my mother didn't know her own parents, but she was white. I mean, not fair like you, but a brunette with blue eyes and a skin tone that suggested maybe Italian heritage. And me?” Hal lowered her sunglasses, revealing her deep brown eyes. “I am clearly not all white.”

“Did you ever ask her?”

“Oh sure. She said the guy had darker skin and dark hair, but she was always vague.”

“So you honestly don't know your race?” Quinn asked, awestruck.

“When people ask, I usually say I'm a mutt.” Hal grinned before her tone turned serious. “It used to bother me. I wanted a community so badly, you know? Like if I couldn't have a family, at least maybe I could be part of an ethnic group. Sully knows she was born on the Seneca Nation. That's a pretty good clue she's part Native American. I don't even have that.”

“No clues? She couldn't give you anything beyond dark hair and eyes?”

“Not really. He might have been biracial, maybe Latino, or Native American. Hell, from her vague description, he could have been light-skinned African American. It hurt a lot when I was a teenager and really looking for my place in the world. Even now I would give just about anything to have some piece of my heritage, some sense of history. But no matter how much I obsess, I'll never have those answers. I have to let go.”

“Let go,” Quinn repeated. Not a skill she'd really developed. “I don't know how you did it. I would've driven my mother up the wall.”

“No, you wouldn't have,” Hal said sadly. “Not if you saw what those questions did to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“It embarrassed Emily to talk about stuff like that. She'd get choked up. I know she wished she'd been able to do better for me. It wasn't that she didn't care. She just didn't know how. She didn't have the skills or the support.”

Quinn stared out the window and watched Western New York roll by. She understood the problems with the foster system, and she knew drug addiction was a disease every bit as much as diabetes, but she still didn't see how Hal could be so damned forgiving. These weren't some hypothetical dilemmas about codependency or redemption. Hal was a real person, amazing and strong and beautiful. She deserved so much more. Her mother had robbed her, first of a stable childhood, then of a second chance with an adoptive family. As if that wasn't bad enough, she'd also stolen away even the idea of a father or a community to identify with.

“I can't imagine not even knowing something so basic as my race,” she finally said. “For as shitty as my parents were, at least I always knew where I came from.”

“And you always had Buffalo,” Hal said, her voice more cheery than Quinn's.

“Yeah, I guess there's that.” Maybe that's why she felt such a strong connection to the Queen City. “Our city might not be much, but at least it's ours.”

“It is,” Hal said seriously, “and we're gay. That's a community. I think Sully and I saw that in each other long before we realized what we were seeing. We just knew on some instinctual level. It made coming out kind of awesome, because for the first time in my life, I could say, ‘This is what I am.' I finally knew something about myself for sure.”

“I'd never thought of it like that before,” Quinn admitted, rolling the idea around in her mind. “For me coming out was different. An annoyance, almost. I was already poor and working my way through college. I didn't need one more thing to deal with. Being gay was just another excuse for people to turn against me. And I certainly didn't have time for bars or parades.”

“No time to be gay?” Hal asked. “If you didn't practice, how did you manage to get so perfect at it?”

Quinn laughed.

“For real. You have a very impressive skill set. All work and no play definitely didn't make Quinn a dull gay.”

Quinn blushed. “I didn't mean to imply I never dated anyone. And I'm going to completely ignore the implications of what kind of practice you must have had to hone your talents.”

“Good call,” Hal said quickly.

“I just meant I never really had any sense of community identity. I guess I never thought about it enough to miss it.” Though now that Hal mentioned it, especially in the context of her upbringing, she wondered if maybe she should've paid more attention to the gay community. She didn't have the kind of bond Hal had with Sully, not about being gay, not about how she was raised, not about anything. Of course she shared a close blood tie to Ian, and they'd been through a lot together, but she'd never really had the chance to share in much else with him. He'd always seemed so much younger and more vulnerable. She loved him, but she also saw him as a huge responsibility. They took care of each other in a lot of ways, but she carried a large share of the weight, emotionally and financially. He wasn't the type of person she could unload her worries on.

“I've always done things on my own, and it's worked pretty well.” Her voice trailed off.

“But?” Hal asked.

“Maybe it would've been nice to surround myself with other women dealing with the same things, juggling work and family, and still trying to find themselves,” she admitted.

Hal nodded as she stared out the massive windshield of the truck. Finally she turned and smiled one of those broad, genuine smiles that drew everyone to her. “You know, it's not too late. Anything is possible.”

Somehow, looking at her, all casual and sunny, Quinn couldn't argue. She didn't even want to. All the fears about being a lone wolf or not being good at building relationships or being too busy or too driven faded as hope rushed in to replace them. It was a foreign feeling, this warmth in her stomach—new, fresh, and not at all unpleasant. She was riding in a food truck to Boston with the sexiest
chef she knew, for a weekend of chasing whims. She grinned and shrugged. “Maybe you're right. Maybe anything is possible.”

“So I hear you're a bit of a celebrity chef right now,” Natalie said as she leaned against her kitchen counter.

“I wouldn't go that far.” Hal brushed off the attention while she fried up bits of crabmeat. “I've gotten some good attention.”

“Joey said you were on the cover of a magazine, and you had a popup that sold out.”

“Yeah, guess I'm doing all right.”

“That's all you got?” Natalie gave her a little shove. “Sounds like you're doing better than all right.”

“I don't have a townhouse with the view of the Charles River,” Hal teased back.

Natalie smiled and took in the view from her third-story windows. It was a damn fine view of the river and the Harvard Bridge, with MIT across the way. Out on the water, the fireworks barge bustled with workers, and down the way, the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra prepared to go on stage. Since Natalie had left Buffalo two years earlier, she'd clearly hit the location jackpot.

“I didn't say I wasn't doing all right too. I'm happy to brag about my new digs any time, but it doesn't take away from what you're doing.” Natalie nudged her in the ribs. “Plus, I don't have a hot blond banker bunking in with me.”

“Well, I didn't want to rub it in or anything, but I'm totally winning that category.” Hal transferred the crispy crabmeat to a paper towel-lined plate.

“So it's serious?”

“No. Way not. I mean absolutely not a serious thing.”

Natalie nodded. “Okay then, glad you're not ambivalent about it.”

“She wanted to open a restaurant with me.”

“Is that what they're calling it in Buffalo these days?”

She rolled her eyes. “Really, she's going to open a restaurant in Buffalo. She wants me as executive chef.”

“And that's the only way she wants you?”

“No. It's the primary way though. The other stuff is . . . it's—”

“A bonus?”

“A very nice one.”

“Whatever you say.” Natalie shook her head. “But people don't generally bring their bonus business buddies on long weekends to the coast with them.”

“Why does everyone have to make such a big deal about this?”

“I assume everyone is me and Sully?”

She shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“I guess it's because we're your friends and we think you might really like this girl. And when your friends think you really like a girl, it's their job to give you lots of shit about it.”

“I don't like her,” Hal said, then caught herself. “I mean I do like her. She's smart and she's got a smart mouth, and she gives a shit about something bigger than herself, and—”

“And sex.”

“That too. Really, that a lot.”

“So, she's smart, she's beautiful, she's got her shit together, and the sex is rockin'. I get it now. So many reasons there why you don't like her.”

“I do like her, it's just . . .”

The door opened and Quinn walked in, saving her from having to explain anything else to Natalie, or herself for that matter.

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?”