Golden

57

Lucy's POV

"'Tis the damn season!"
I jerked my head over my shoulder towards the front door of my apartment just as it vigorously flung open and crashed loudly against the wall from the unexpected force.
"Don't you ever knock?" I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress a small smile despite wondering if there was now a sizable dent where the door had been smashed in.
"Not usually," Ethan answered honestly as he carefully closed the door behind him, making sure to swing it very slowly to avoid further property damage to this apartment that was obviously far out of my price range. Too little, too late, per usual with him.
"Plus I thought I would be the tardy one like usual," Ethan added as he breezed through the doorway and scanned my empty foyer with surprise.
"You're the first to arrive actually," I informed him as I raised my hefty glass of wine and swallowed another big gulp. It would have been more efficient to put a straw directly into the bottle at this point since I had already slugged the majority of it, but I thought that would raise some eyebrows and concerns.
"Starting already?" Ethan grinned proudly as he lifted a brown paper bag in the air, signaling he had brought his own poison. "I like your style."
"Help yourself if you want anything of mine." I nodded towards the fully stocked bar cart in the corner of the kitchen, swallowing another generous gulp of red wine before noting, "Harry bought enough alcohol to get the entire Greenwich Village wasted for a month."
"I gladly accept that challenge," Ethan mused happily and he wasted no time mixing himself an extra strong drink. "Speaking of Mr. Styles, where is that handsome devil?"
My heart sank as I poured more wine down my throat to numb the dull ache in my chest that hadn't eased up for hours. It likely never would at this point.
"He's back on tour," I replied flatly, trying to mask my disappointment and sorrow, but my voice sounded just as wounded as I felt. "He left this morning."
It had been one of the worst goodbyes I had ever experienced.
I was holding back ugly sobs the entire time as I watched him finish packing his bags, double checking his belongings as I sat on my bed and silently wondered how long it would take for me to fall completely apart. An hour? Two? Less than that? God, I was pathetic.
"You're going to be okay, Lucy," Harry reassured me as he carefully zipped up his suitcase, like he had read my mind and heard all of my fears and doubts echoing loud and clear across the room. "It's only a few shows. I'll be back before you know it, maybe even before you have a chance to miss me."
I knew he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to persuade me.
But we both knew better.
"Don't look at me like that," Harry whined helplessly, making his way towards me as he got off his knees and rose to his feet. He stood in front of me and gave me a pleading look that sent a wave of nausea crashing through me. He bent down and kissed me – really kissed me – before he added in a pained whisper, "Please."
"Like what?" I tried to force my expression to become neutral, not wanting him to feel the least bit guilty. This had been my idea after all.
"Like I'm abandoning you," Harry replied with a frown. He grabbed my hands and intertwined his fingers between mine, any excuse to feel me, knowing our touches were going to be impossible for a while when he was away.
Panic suddenly flashed across his handsome face before he asked gravely serious, "You...you don't think that, do you?"
"No," I answered him at once, firmly shaking my head. "No, not at all."
And I was desperately trying to convince myself that I didn't already wholeheartedly regret this decision with every fiber of my being.

"The real party is here!"
I perked up at another interruption in my doorway, violently pulled from my daydreams with Harry, as I blinked at the two familiar figures standing in the threshold.
"Hi," I breathed out feebly as a greeting, shaking my head to clear my mind that was spinning with the memory of Harry's green-eyed gaze and the way his mouth had felt pressed against mine.
I plastered on a smile, trying to regain my composure as quickly as I could; but Finn saw right through my facade the moment his eyes landed on me.
"Hey, you okay?" Finn was by my side in an instant, looking and sounding worried. He placed down a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen island as Jackson shut the door behind them, making his way towards Ethan who already had a drink made for him.
"Fine," I lied at once. My neck was turning red. I was so flustered, still feeling Harry's lips on mine and still reeling from the painful goodbye we had shared hours before and the wine wasn't helping at all with my mental clarity. "I just..."
"I know Harry left today," Finn informed me evenly in a low voice, already guessing what was causing my instability. "I..." He tensed up, not knowing what to say. No one really did.
"It'll be alright," I confirmed calmly, swallowing the last gulp of wine in my glass. "It's always going to be alright, isn't it?"
Finn smirked at my unusual optimism, though he seemed hesitant to really believe me. "How long is he gone for?" He asked me lightly, sensing my sadness still lingering beneath my smiling surface.
"Six weeks," I replied squarely, though my heart sank in my chest just saying it out loud. "He'll be back after Christmas, likely in the new year."
"You gonna be okay until then?" Finn stared at me intently, searching my eyes for answers I would never give because I didn't really know.
"I'm always going to be okay," I answered instead, hoping it was at least partially true. Or maybe if I said it enough, I could convince myself that it was.
Finn seemed satisfied enough for now and I was grateful he didn't try and delve deeper into this sensitive topic in front of everyone. His eyes met mine, almost like he was silently telling me we would talk about it later, which I nodded to.
He offered me another small smile before he gently squeezed the top of my shoulder. "I know you'll be okay," Finn said firmly, probably more for my benefit than he actually trusted it. "I know."
"Where are the girls?" Ethan asked abruptly, already nursing his second drink and avoiding all of the emotional talk as usual.
"On their way," I replied, gliding over to the bar cart and picking a new bottle of wine off the top rack. It was way more expensive than anything I would have ever purchased myself, but Harry swore by it after he spent some time on a vineyard in Italy. "Quinn texted me a little bit ago and said they were running late getting ready, but would be here soon."
"So," Ethan began unexpectedly, bolstered by bourbon in his bloodstream. "I take it that Quinn's forgiven you for the whole making out with Finn thing?"
I nearly dropped the wine bottle from my limp grasp as I kept my expression as neutral as I could even though I knew my face was the color of the Cabernet I was downing and my eyes were narrowed into furious slits. I didn't even dare to sneak a peek at Finn, who I was sure also had violently burning red cheeks and his jaw on the floor. I looked past Jackson, who was frozen in front of his twin with his mouth opened in horror, clearly wishing his brother knew when to shut up. Ethan was merely looking back at me with curiosity, oblivious to the fact that his question garnered such a dramatic response from all of us.
Instead of replying right away, I just stared at Ethan for a moment, wondering briefly if I should hurl the bottle directly at his head or not. I didn't want to waste it after all. It was worth more than my month's rent.
But truthfully, deep down inside of me, I knew that he deserved to know. I almost imploded our friend group with my foolish selfishness, so the very least I could do is explain what was going on now, even if I wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened so we could all move on from my mistake.
"Quinn and I talked about it," I answered curtly, placing the wine down on the kitchen island before it shattered completely in my tight grasp. "Right when I came back to the city, I went straight to her place to talk about...everything."
"Oh, what I would give to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation..." Ethan quipped before he whistled lowly with wide eyes. "Shit."
"It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be," I admitted truthfully, walking back towards the kitchen island and rummaging through a drawer for the bottle opener. "I mean – I thought she was going to murder me once we were alone without any witnesses, so anything other than that, I was sure I could handle."
The three of them laughed, releasing some of the unbearable tension in the room.
"We talked for a while and worked it out," I explained vaguely, not wanting to go into much detail all over again. It was hard enough going through it once, never mind having to explain it for a crowd. "There was..."
I quickly glanced at Finn who was watching me intently, his teeth clenched with nervousness, hanging on my every word. We both had talked to Quinn separately and hadn't fully discussed what each of us talked to her about. We didn't want to betray her trust all over again by divulging what we had said or what she came back with, knowing how fragile and delicate and complicated the entire situation was. Quinn was willing to give both of us a second chance and neither of us had any desire to remotely risk ruining that. Though Finn and I usually shared everything with each other, we both agreed that this was sacred and definitely worth keeping to ourselves. Quinn deserved that at the very least.
"There was a lot going on that she had to understand," I clarified diplomatically, uncorking the bottle with a small pop! "And the only thing you need to know is that we're fine. She understood and forgave me." I paused, playing with the cork in between my fingers. "Eventually."
"Man, Quinn is a much better friend than I would ever be," Ethan reasoned honestly with a shrug of his shoulders.
I knew he didn't mean to hurt my feelings, but I felt my stomach sink at his brutally honest words. I knew he was right; so I wasn't even the least bit mad or angry at his outburst. I had crossed a line that never should have even been breached, let alone passed through entirely. I risked my friendship with not only Finn, but Quinn and the rest of our group as well. I was consumed by guilty and felt sick whenever I thought about what I had done, and was practically dry-heaving with anxiety in her apartment lobby when I went to visit her the first day I returned to New York.
"Lucy?" Quinn's eyes got wide as she spotted me lurking in the corner by the elevator in her apartment building. Her face paled as she looked at me like I was a ghost haunting her, perhaps thinking she was just seeing things. She squinted at me to make sure I was real. "Is that you?"
I was wearing a hood and oversized sunglasses, carrying my overstuffed suitcase and hiding from anyone who might glance in my direction and get a proper look at me and find out who I was and cause a scene. I had only wanted one person to notice me and here she was.
"Hi," I said quietly, my stomach lurching with fresh regret by the look of shock on her face as she stood unmoving in front of me. I took a hesitant step towards her, noticing she flinched as I drew nearer. My chest seized in pain. "Can...can we..." I glanced around the over crowded lobby, terrified someone would spot me and my cover would be blown.
No one knew I was back in New York yet except Finn. I hadn't wanted anyone else to know. I needed to try and fix things with Quinn before I did anything else.
"Come on," Quinn instructed in a whisper as I floundered pathetically, beckoning me over as she pressed the elevator button up to her place. She clearly noticed my terrible nerves and she averted her wide gaze away from me. Her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as she told me graciously, "We can talk upstairs where it's more private."
I nodded with relief, thankful that she was even speaking to me, let alone allowing me back into her apartment. She could have screamed at me right in the lobby for everyone to hear and see and and I wouldn't have gotten mad at her for it. She could have loudly kicked me out, back onto the gloomy streets and I would have understood entirely.
I would have deserved it.
We rode the elevator in stifling silence, Quinn's hands fidgeting as she readjusted the bulky purse on her shoulder and picked at her long nails that were painted jet black, a shade I had never seen her wear ever before. After a painfully slow ascension, the elevator dinged, causing both of us to jump before the doors slowly opened and she hopped into the hallway like she couldn't have gotten out of the enclosed, small space fast enough. She didn't bother to check behind to see if I was following her, which I was at a mindful distance. I had walked these corridors countless times before, but this felt so foreign and strange to me now. And I knew it was all my fault.
Quinn fumbled with her keys for a moment before she swiftly unlocked the door and walked inside, holding it opened for me as I cautiously slipped in after her. She tossed her purse down on the counter and headed straight for the fridge, not even bothering to take her shoes off before she strolled over and scanned the selection of alcohol on her shelves. She grabbed a bottle of white wine and immediately uncorked it as I stood in the doorway with my arms crossed over my chest, feeling like I was looking at a stranger in the privacy of her own personal sanctuary instead of joining one of my best friends at her place that once felt like a second home to me.
I shut the door behind me and the room once again plummeted into an uneasy silence as I glanced around the once familiar space, noticing that the decor had changed since I had last visited. I suddenly realized that I hadn't been here in months, which made my head spin. It was strange how time played tricks on me. Sometimes, it moved so slowly that I truly believed I was stuck, standing still and unable to move, paralyzed by it. Other times, it felt like it flew right by me in a blink of an eye, so terrifying quick that I felt completely out of control.
"You can sit," Quinn offered over her shoulder as she placed two glasses down on the counter. "If you want."
"Thanks." I walked forward, leaving my bags by the door, each step feeling heavier than the last, before I pulled out a stool on the opposite side of Quinn. I watched her pour two hefty servings of wine into the glasses before she slid one to me without saying another word.
"Thanks," I said again, grabbing the glass with shaking fingers before gulping down a generous portion to calm my nerves. It felt like I was going to jump out of my skin or be sick. Maybe both.
Quinn merely nodded, sipping her wine slowly, but I noticed her hands were also trembling as she held the stem between her thin fingers.
"I didn't know you were back in the city," she noted as I began taking off my shoes to put back by the door mat. She stopped me by shaking her head and told me, "Leave them on, it's okay."
I didn't know if she was trying to be polite back or if she didn't want me to stay long.
"I got back this afternoon," I informed her evenly, straightening up and leaving my sneakers on, per her request. "I...I didn't even go to my place first. I came right here."
"That explains the bags." She motioned towards my overflowing suitcase. She nodded thoughtfully, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her arms lightly as if she had caught a sudden chill. She averted her gaze for a moment, unsure of what else to say. Quinn had never been at a loss of words before.
After a long silence, I finally blurted out, "Quinn, I–"
"Me first," she interrupted me suddenly, leaning forward over the kitchen island. "Before I lose my nerve."
She didn't raise her voice, but her stern tone silenced me at once. She ran her fingers through her platinum blonde hair, which had been drastically cut into a short bob. I thought it suited her, but I knew deep down that her new hairstyle was likely the result of being blindsided by her breakup, which made me feel worse, even though she still looked beautiful.
I swallowed the rest of the beginning of my apology and closed my lips. She took a moment to center herself and gather the overwhelming thoughts that had been swirling around her head for the last few weeks before her steely gaze landed back on me.
Quinn's bright blue eyes filled with fresh tears as she stared at me, searching my face for remorse, which I knew was evident all over it. Her gaze narrowed as she exhaled sharply, her body rigid with what I could only assume was rage. I felt myself begin to shrink inward with shame, wondering if she was going to scream at me or chuck that filled wine glass at my face. I would have let her.
"Lucy."
Her voice was terse, like she was holding back her real emotions for as long as she could. I knew it was only a matter of time before she unleashed her wrath on me.
Her ocean stare pierced right through me, so much that I was about to break. I was shaking so much and I knew she noticed. Her eyes went straight to my trembling hands on top of the island that were free from bandages, but still had angry, red scars across the tops of my knuckles. I hid my fists inside the sleeves of my jacket, though I was positive she had already seen the unsightly marks. I cursed myself for not wearing gloves. I didn't want her to think I wanted or deserved her sympathy. I didn't.
I braced myself for the very worst. I knew whatever she was about to tell me, I deserved. I opened my mouth to beg her for forgiveness again, when she finally spoke and took me entirely by surprise that I was too stunned to utter another sound.
"I'm so, so sorry, Lucy."
What?
I shook my head and furrowed my eyebrows at Quinn, thinking I had misheard her. Surely all of the stress and panic and guilt was driving me to the brink of insanity. I blinked, waiting for her to correct herself, but she didn't.
"I can't believe what happened to you," Quinn went on sadly, her eyes welling with more tears as she continued. "I couldn't believe it when it was all over the news. I didn't want to believe it. It was so horrible, so beyond any of my worst nightmares, so terrible and awful and..." She shuddered as she choked on her words, glancing up at me with such deep sorrow that it made my stomach flip.
"No one deserves what you went through," Quinn told me seriously, her pink lips quivering with raw emotion. "I couldn't...I couldn't listen to all of the reports they kept putting out. I didn't finish many of the articles written about it either." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, mindful not to mess up her expertly painted on mascara. "But I heard and read enough to know that what you had to endure was one of the worst things I could ever imagine." She cleared her throat, swallowing another sob. "And to think – I had no idea. Tally didn't either."
I perked up at the mention of Tally's name and Quinn informed me, "Tally's at the bar doing inventory."
I nodded quietly, not wanting to interrupt her, but grateful that it was just going to be us for now.
"I can't imagine what you've been through and all the horrible things you've had to hide from all of us because you were too terrified to tell anyone what was really happening," Quinn said somberly, her hands clutching her chest. "I'm so sorry you thought you were alone. I'm so sorry for everything he put you through."
She inhaled sharply and she held my stare so intensely that it unsettled me; though I didn't dare break it.
"And I'm really, really glad you're alive and out of that situation. I'm so relieved that you're in one piece and recovering and healing." She paused. I knew she wanted to smile at me, but she couldn't bring herself to. "I'm so happy that you're safe and back here."
Did she mean it? I thought hopefully, not daring to even breathe. Was she really happy?
"But my God, Lucy, you broke my heart."
All the air left my lungs in one, painful exhale as I watched Quinn's eyes fill with even more tears. These ones she didn't bother to try and wipe away. I felt helpless as my gaze remained locked on hers, wanting more than anything to take her agony from her, especially knowing I had caused it.
"Quinn, I–"
"I'm not someone who judges anyone for what they do when they're in pain or struggling," Quinn cut me off, anger all over her pretty face. "God knows that you have seen me at my absolute worst when my heart was ripped from my chest and shattered. I'm not saying I know what you went through specifically, but I am saying that even at my absolute lowest, I would not have even glanced in the direction of someone you loved." She glared at me. Rage radiated off of her like heat. "Imagine...imagine if I took Harry from you when you two were broken up?"
I would have been devastated beyond words, beyond comprehension, beyond sanity. I would have gone mad. I don't think I would have ever recovered. I somehow felt even worse than before, which I didn't think was even possible.
"I'm not the jealous type, you know," Quinn continued furiously. "And of course I would never think twice to get in between you and..."
Her voice trailed off abruptly and instantly she closed her mouth shut.
I knew how much it hurt to speak someone's name that betrayed you when you once trusted them with your entire world.
"I would never want to force him to pick between you and me," Quinn clarified quickly, still refusing to use Finn's name out loud. "That's not fair to any of us."
"I would never want or expect him to choose between us either," I explained earnestly, wondering briefly if she would believe me. I could tell by her eyes that she didn't. I tried again. "I...I know he doesn't feel the same way about me that he feels about you, Quinn."
Quinn was quiet for a moment, staring at the floor and crossing her arms over her chest, lost in her thoughts as she methodically ran her finger over the rim of her wine glass. She glanced up at me, her eyes narrowed, suddenly angry as she asked pointedly, "Why should I trust you?"
I nodded solemnly, unsure of what to say. She was right after all: why should she believe a word that came out of my mouth? I hurt her terribly, almost unforgivably. I was grateful she was even speaking to me, but building back trust was something I had to earn and it was safe to say that I wasn't there yet. Not even close.
"You don't have to," I replied back evenly, though my stomach was churning uneasily inside of me. "You owe me nothing. I should be groveling for what I did–"
"I don't want you to grovel," Quinn stated matter-of-factly. "I want you to explain. I don't want you to tell me the things you think I want to hear. I want you to be honest." She exhaled, like she was having difficulty breathing. "Even if it breaks my heart all over again."
"What happened between us..." I paused, shaking my head, correcting myself. "What I did...it was so stupid and horrible of me and I'm so, so sorry. I never meant for–"
"Why did you do it?" Quinn asked me at last, nearly incredulous. I saw her face flush, changing from pale porcelain to rosy red in a matter of seconds. "Why did you kiss him? Why did you deny your feelings for him for years and years only to..." She held her breath, realizing how loud her voice was growing and lowered it. "Did you always love him? Did you always want him for yourself? Was that your plan all along?"
"No!" I said adamantly, panicked. "No, I..."
"Did he know?" Quinn went on with her incessant questions. "Was I just some place holder for him until you came to your senses?"
"Never, Quinn." I reached my hand out for her, but she pulled hers back off the table between us. She didn't want me anywhere close to her.
"Has it happened before?" She asked me suspiciously. "Have you kissed since then? Or...done something more?"
"Quinn, listen to me–"
"Why didn't you just let me have Harry then?" Quinn shot at me fiercely, taking me entirely off guard. "If you wanted Finn for yourself, why did you string Harry along for so long? Why did you string both of them along for so long? Why did you wait until I fell for Finn to try and take him back for yourself?"
"Quinn, I..."
"I would have never done that to you," Quinn fumed angrily, her black nails digging into her palms from her clenched fists on the table. "The thought of hurting you or double crossing you like that never even occurred to me. I just can't believe that–"
"Finn loves you."
She stared vacantly at me, her blue eyes unblinking, her entire body frigid and frozen in her place. I knew she wanted to believe me. I wished desperately that she would. It was the truth after all.
"He loves you," I repeated, more firmly this time, watching her gaze flash for a split second, which I took as a promising sign despite her cold silence. "He loves you so much, Quinn. He's crazy about you. Really."
Quinn rolled her eyes at me, obviously still very distrustful, which I understood completely. But I knew I had to try and change her mind.
"Then why did he break up with me?" Quinn asked me exasperatedly. "Why did he run? Why did he leave me?"
"He's terrified," I explained, hoping Finn didn't mind me telling her this; but someone had to. "He's never felt like this about someone before. He doesn't know what he's doing. He's never felt this much about someone. He...he didn't want to hurt you."
"He destroyed me," Quinn refuted harshly, her voice cracking. "You did too."
I winced, almost like she had slapped me across the face with her words.
I deserved that sting.
"I know." I sighed. "I know. What happened between us was reckless and chaotic and..."
"Wrong," Quinn finished hotly for me. "It was wrong."
"It was wrong," I reiterated, running out of breath, my chest impossibly tight. "I didn't think about what I doing or who I was hurting or anything like that. I just...all I wanted...I just..." I shuddered, my voice strained as I admitted weakly, "I just wanted all of the pain to stop."
Quinn kept looking at me, studying my face from a few feet away, still keeping her distance, but wordlessly encouraging me to keep going.
"I felt really..." I paused, unsure of how to even explain how I had felt then; especially now. Everything I had endured, everything I had gone through, everything I had struggled to live through somehow felt like a lifetime ago, while I simultaneously could recall every single excruciating detail of the entire ordeal like it was yesterday. It felt most days like I was living outside of my body, watching a stranger move around in my skin. Someone else was speaking for me, smiling for me, nodding my head when asked if I felt okay, agreeing to things that I wasn't anywhere near ready for but going anyway because I didn't want to disappoint or worry anyone.
You should be happy, I had told myself over and over again every time my forward facing facade would falter and the real me – still broken, still sad, still in so much unspeakable pain – slipped through the surface. Why can't you just be happy?
"I felt so alone."
My voice was small as I confessed that to Quinn, so quietly that I wasn't sure she even heard me. She shifted in her seat, inching closer, allowing me to continue.
"Harry was gone. I didn't know where John was or if he was going to come for me again. I wasn't seeing any of my friends." I glanced up at her and noticed that she flinched. She knew I was telling her the truth this time. "I was trying to piece myself back together, but every day felt like I was just fighting a losing battle with myself. I was in such a dark place. I didn't know how to get myself out of it. I kept lying to everyone around me, hoping that if I told enough people that I was happy and getting better that one day it would be true and I wouldn't have to lie anymore." I cleared my throat, feeling tears sting my eyes. "But nothing was working. I just kept spiraling more and more and I..."
I had felt like a tornado of destruction, leaving everything and everyone in my path in total ruin. I was out of control, desperately clawing at something – or someone – to anchor me back to earth.
Finn's face flashed in my mind as I admitted, "I clung to someone who was just as lost and broken as I was."
"Finn was..." Quinn stiffened, gripping her wine glass tighter. "Finn was...he was...upset about us?"
"Devastated," I told her earnestly, remembering the haunted look on his face when he told me they had broken up on my rooftop on the Fourth of July. "He didn't want to hurt you. He was afraid he was going to fuck everything up, which is what both of us usually do with people we love." I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat. "I can't speak for Finn. He will want to talk to you himself, I'm sure."
"He won't stop calling me," Quinn noted quietly, letting her stone-cold exterior fall away for a split second as she offered me some precious insight. "He's resorted to writing me letters every day now that I won't answer any of his texts or calls."
She nodded towards a small table by the entryway that was overflowing with envelopes, some opened, most not. I recognized Finn's terrible handwriting even from a distance.
"I can't read them without sobbing." Quinn slumped her shoulders. "But I've been trying to get through them." She smirked for a split second, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "You know Finn's not the best with words, but he really...he really tries." Her smile faded again, replaced with a teary frown.
"He'll keep trying," I assured her kindly. "Both of us will keep trying to prove to you how sorry we are."
Quinn remained tight-lipped. She wasn't fully convinced. Again, I didn't blame her.
"I never meant to hurt you, even though I know I did. And I'm so sorry for that, Quinn. I'll spend forever trying to make it up to you." My voice quivered as I added, "I promise."
Quinn was silent for a long time, much longer than I would have liked, but I understood why. She took a small sip of her wine and nodded curtly, blinking quickly as tears filled her eyes all over again the moment she gazed up at me.
"I need to think about it."
I found myself nodding despite all of the air leaving my lungs so quickly that it hurt. While I knew Quinn needed to mull everything over, there was a tiny part of me that wished everything would just fall immediately back into place and go back to how they used to be once we saw each other and spoke. That was selfish of me, I knew, but I was craving a sense of normalcy so badly that I felt like I was going to explode if I didn't have something hopeful to cling to.
But I couldn't have it.
I ruined it.
This was once again all my fault.
"Okay" I said to her with a small smile, my head still bobbing up and down, making me feel faint. "Take all the time you need."
Quinn opened her mouth to thank me, but decided against it. She didn't need to thank me after all. She owed me nothing.
"I should go." I rose to my feet, leaving my half-drunk wine glass on the island, unable to stomach anything anymore.
It was Quinn's turn to nod as she followed me to the door, watching as I picked up my bags and turned to face her. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking like she was holding back saying something, so I spoke again.
"Thanks for listening to me." I swung my bag over my shoulder and kept one hand on the doorknob. "You didn't have to open up your apartment to me or sit through anything I had to say; but I really appreciate it."
"Don't mention it." Quinn swallowed hard. Her voice wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm necessarily.
I didn't know what else there was to say, unsure if I would ever talk to her again or even see her or what would happen next. I didn't know if saying goodbye was permanent or not and I wasn't anywhere near ready to reflect on that. So instead of fumbling through an awkward exit speech, I just opened up the door and silently slipped out of it into the hallway without another word or glance back.
I was fully sobbing by the time I was in the elevator.
I searched my bag for my sunglasses and cursed when I realized I must have left them in Quinn's apartment by accident. I knew my eyes were red and swollen and didn't want to draw any more unwanted attention towards myself, suddenly paranoid that someone had spotted me earlier and word of my return to the city broke.
The elevator doors swung open as I sulked through the lobby, stifling a few hiccups from crying so hard. I was so close to the door when suddenly I heard my name echo throughout the nearly empty lobby.
I turned around at the noise, my face paling at the sound of my name, but relief washed over me when I saw Quinn racing towards me. She bolted to me as I stood paralyzed with my eyes locked on her, wondering if she realized I had forgotten my sunglasses and was returning them to me so she would never have to see me again.
She wants you out of her life forever, my mind taunted me. This really is goodbye.
Quinn was breathless when she stopped in front of me and my gaze darted to her empty hands before glancing back up at her face. I was too stunned to say anything, waiting to hear her out.
"I thought about it." Quinn was painting, a bead of sweat on her forehead as she gulped down air.
I waited more, not breathing. I couldn't get my hopes up. I stared at her, tears spilling from my eyes that I didn't bother to wipe away. She opened her mouth and I braced myself for the worst all over again.
"I forgive you."
Her voice cracked, but it was strong and sincere and everything I could have wished to hear. A quick smile tugged at the corner of her lips and my chest instantly loosened as my mind registered what she had just told me.
I breathed the first real, proper sigh of relief that I had in months.
It felt like a millions pound weight had been lifted off of me as I reached for Quinn's hand instinctively and squeezed it. She didn't flinch. She didn't pull away. She squeezed my hand back.
"Thank you," I told her ardently, thinking I was about to explode out of my skin with relief and happiness. I wanted to hug her, to wrap my arms around her and shake her, but didn't want to overstep. Holding her hand was enough for now.
"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," I repeated over and over, not sure she understood how grateful I actually was. It would never be enough.
"My life wasn't the same without you in it," Quinn admitted shyly, running her thumb over the top of my hand. "I can't fill the void you left with anger or hurt or jealousy. I don't want to." She paused, gripping my hand firmly as she added, "I want our girls' nights with endless amounts of wine back. I want the late night phone calls back. I want the closing the bar down at 5am back. I want you singing your heart out every weekend on our our stage back. I want the clutching our stomachs because they hurt so much from laughing back." She held my teary gaze, inhaling an unsteady, emotional breath before she continued. "I want my friend back. I want my Lucy back."
I suddenly didn't care if I was overstepping as I instinctively threw my arms around Quinn's shoulders and embraced her fiercely. She hugged me back just as tightly, pressing herself against me and just holding me, keeping me together as I tried my best not to ugly cry in the middle of the lobby. When we pulled away, we were both red-eyed and sniffling, but smiling.
"Text me when you're safely back at your place, yeah?" Quinn made me promise. Her face went stony as she noted, "I know there's been a lot of chatter and speculation about when you'd be coming back and I don't want you to get caught up in that unnecessary shit storm."
I nodded as my brief happiness of Quinn's forgiveness was swiftly replaced with the terror of remembering that every media outlet would soon be hounding me once my whereabouts was discovered.
"If you need someplace to go, you always can come here," Quinn assured me, sensing my fear. "Tally and I would love your company. And I'm sure we have a lot to catch up on."
"Thank you," I said for what felt like the millionth time that day. And again, it still wasn't nearly enough.
"Be safe, Lucy." Quinn was sincere and earnest as she squeezed my hand once more. "See you soon?"
I smiled. It wasn't a permanent goodbye after all.
"Soon."
I watched as Quinn crossed the lobby back towards the elevators. She turned around once more to wave to me before she disappeared down the hallway out of my view.
I sighed deeply, my head somewhat in a daze as I picked up my bags and walked out of the doors and into the streets. I was hardly through the exit and onto the sidewalk when something bright abruptly caught my eye.
And I was suddenly surrounded by a swarm of blinding camera flashes.
"Lucy! Lucy! Over here! Tell us – how are you feeling?"
"Do you have any comment on the most recent allegations?"
"Will you testify in court?"
"What are your thoughts on the other women? Did you know? Did anyone warn you?"
"Have you spoken to John since his arrest?"
I covered my face with my hand and scanned the street in a panic, frantically searching for Harry's town car that he had graciously lent me. I somehow managed to find it and tumbled into the backseat, grateful to see Frank's large figure in the driver's seat in front of me as he pulled out into the traffic and away from the paparazzi the moment my door shut.
If this is only my first day back, I thought to myself as the clouds above turned a nasty and violent shade of grey, signaling the incoming storm. What else could possibly be in store for me?