make you miss me • q. hughes

43

"How do you know?"

Mom freezes mid-sip of her coffee. She sets the cup back down on the table. "How do I know what?"

"Y'know, how does a gal know?" I don't know why I'm dancing around it so hard. I can't bring myself to admit it out loud.

"A test," Mom says.

"Wha—" I shake my head as fast as possible. "No. No! That's not— No. No pregnancy worries."

She sighs in relief. "Thank god."

"Thank god? Don't you want me to have kids?"

"Eventually, sure," she says. I'm not that convinced. She can tell because she smiles and clasps her hands. "So, how do you know what?"

"Are you messing with me?" I glare at the woman who birthed me purely on suspicion. I feel like I'm being pretty clear. There are only so many things I could be talking about.

Mom glares right damn back. "No. Use your words or else I'm not helping."

"I don't want to—"

"Then it can't be that important."

"It's that—"

"Scout, you are fully capable of finding out anything you goddamn need on your own," Mom says. My shoulders relax for maybe the first time in the past few weeks. "Remember when you were a kid and would make those in-depth presentations on your own time for the hell of it? My favorite was the Crosby one. Anyways, if you don't know the answer to something: Find it."

"Went to you to find it," I mumble.

"Find it yourself and don't stop searching until you're satisfied. Be stubborn about it. You always were back then. Every time I tried getting you to take a break for a day you'd tell me no."

A small smile makes its way onto my lips. "Be stubborn about it. There's a few people who would never give me that advice."

"Trust me, honey," she says. "I never thought I would either."

* * * * *

Mom loves Quinn. She'll never admit to it. She doesn't have to though, I can tell. It's not a huge shock or anything. As if I would ever date anyone I don't think my mom would love. Luckily, the woman has a pretty easy rubric and Quinn's able to get the highest score across the board.

"I've accepted that Jack is her favorite," Quinn jokes, sending me a quick wink.

"He probably reminds her of her Sidney Crosby days," Mom says.

I put a hand over my face. "Why does everyone have to bring that up?"

"He already knows?" Mom smiles.

"Tiny told us and the entire patio of a restaurant," Quinn tells her with a matching smile.

"Of course she did."

I zone out on their words, only able to focus on their smiles. All I want to do is memorize this entire dinner. Memorize the way Quinn had to wipe his hands before shaking Mom's hand. Her using that handshake to pull him into a tight hug that everyone important in any Schuyler's life has experienced. Because he's important.

I have to memorize the way Quinn laughs at any of the embarrassing stories Mom told. How his eyes light up when he realizes he can tell one of his own that she doesn't know. These two parts of my life blend perfectly.

"Jean Louise," Mom says, snapping me out of my memorization. "I said I'm going to the restroom. Are you okay?"

I nod.

She frowns teasingly. "Since when do you not tell me to not get lost? Not to fall in?"

"Don't explode the sink," I say. Dad's favorite one because on their first date, Mom managed to break the sink handle and the manager had to search for pliers to be able to turn it off.

"There's my girl. I'll be back."

The moment she's out of earshot, I scoot my chair closer to Quinn's. He looks at me expectantly. I smile and say, "She's going to give our waiter her card so you can't pay."

"I did that before you guys even got here," he says. Perfect.

"Try that on my dad and you're going to realize how serious of a move that is."

His eyes light up. "You want me to meet your dad?"

"Might as well complete it all, right?" I ask. "He's the only one left."

"Do you think he'd like me?"

I reach out a hand. He immediately takes it and starts rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of my hand. "Dad's mellowed out. If you impress Mom, you impress him easily."

"Do you think I impressed her?"

"I think you're perfect."

"Shut up," he says, looking away.

That thing reaches the tip of my tongue. Dances, boogies, does a full workout routine. It's really trying to get my attention. Basically has a sign like it's advertising a car wash fundraiser. It doesn't get the chance at winning since Mom takes her seat again.

Playfully, she points a finger at Quinn in the same way she does when Finch is on thin ice. "You are going to fit right in with this family."

"So I've heard," Quinn says. He's totally trying to play it cool. It's impossible to hide the way his grin widens and his cheeks tint red.

"Have you heard the story of her sobbing for days over losing a necklace with a maple leaf charm?" Mom asks. My hand shoots up to my necklace.

Quinn's eyes dart over to it too. "I feel like you can give me a more detailed version of it."

"More like a more embarrassing one," I mumble.

"That's even better," he says. "I wanna know all the gritty details."

"Don't dish what you can't take. You wait until I meet Ellen in person. I'm going to be ruthless."

"That's how I like you best."

Mom sighs. "Young love."

My heart drops.