I thought about this impulse of Sandra’s as the conversation continued. She was a romantic and would likely be a good source of ideas for pet names, especially if I instructed her to take the assignment seriously. I was pondering how to get her alone to solicit some ideas when Sandra swiped Kat’s margarita and was caught.

“It’s okay,” I said to Kat’s outraged expression. “I’ll make some more and bring out a pitcher.” I stood and reached for Sandra’s empty glass. “But since Sandra is being greedy, she has to come and help me.”

Sandra stood. “Fine. It’s a fair punishment.”

“I’ll come too,” Elizabeth volunteered and began bundling her hand-knits into a ball.

My heart both sank and lifted. It sank because I couldn’t ask Sandra about terms of endearment in front of Elizabeth. Elizabeth would likely want me to call Quinn something that referenced his domineering tendencies. However, I was happy to have her along because she was lovely and one of my aforementioned favorite people.

“I love this kitchen.” Sandra’s voice from behind me sounded wistful. “It’s a kitchen for cooking.”

I glanced at her, saw how she gazed longingly around her, and offered my agreement as I mixed together the tequila and lime juice. “I approve of this kitchen. I like the placement of the dishwasher relative to the sink and the refrigerator relative to the stove. Sandra—can you start squeezing more limes? They are in the bottom drawer of the fridge.”

“These are really good margaritas, Janie. Well done.” Elizabeth gave me a bright smile, which made me feel a bit better. I missed her as we’d been spending barely any time together—especially since the engagement.

“It’s the Limoncello and fresh lime juice, I think. I also used agave nectar instead of sugar.” I finished adding the necessary ingredients. Replacing the lid, I shook the shaker, enjoying the sound of the ice as it slid around the inside of the canister.

Elizabeth said, “You should make these when we go to my reunion in Iowa next week.”

I stared at her, my movements stalled, and I felt the ground tilt beneath me.

Elizabeth’s high school reunion.

I’d completely forgotten.

I was a horrible friend.

“Janie? Are you okay?”

“I completely forgot. I completely forgot about your reunion.” I lowered the canister to the counter. My heart gave a twist, it felt like a cramp, as I noted Elizabeth’s face fall.

“Did you make other plans?”

I glanced beyond her, trying to find a solution to the problem. “I’ll—I’ll find a way to…I’ll think of something.”

I tried to think of a solution. The dinner with Quinn’s parents was Saturday. I wondered how I could be in both places at once. Maybe I could change the dinner with Quinn’s parents to Saturday morning breakfast then fly to Iowa for Elizabeth’s reunion in the evening. I could even bring pancakes. Certainly, it wouldn’t be ideal. But I hated to cancel on Quinn’s mom, especially since this was the first time I was meeting her.

Also, I still wasn’t certain how Quinn felt about the whole thing. I didn’t want to push him on it; I trusted him to tell me if I was overstepping.

Everything about the situation was worrisome and stressful, and now I’d just let down my best friend.

“What plans did you make?” Sandra’s voice interrupted my contingency planning. “Maybe I can help?”

I attempted to keep the despondency out of my tone as I explained the problem. “We’re—Quinn and I—we were planning to go to Boston to see his parents. I was going to meet his parents, but….” I glanced at Elizabeth, found her expression still downhearted. “I completely forgot about the reunion since you and I planned the trip so long ago.”

“I’m confused. Isn’t Quinn estranged from his parents? Didn’t they, like, disown him? Don’t they blame him for his brother’s death or some such nonsense?” Sandra picked up the canister full of half-mixed margaritas and began shaking it.

I nodded. “Yes, they did. I’m not sure if they still do. I called his mom a few weeks ago and introduced myself. I told her I was marrying her son and explained that I planned to give her grandchildren at some point.”

Sandra’s hands ceased mid-shake. “You what?”

“Well, I know this separation from his family, from his mom and dad, contributes to some measure of his broodiness. I thought I could offer them grandchildren in exchange for forgiveness.”

Elizabeth nodded in understanding, but Sandra stared at me like I’d just morphed into a wrinkly pug. Silence stretched. Elizabeth took the opportunity of Sandra’s stillness to take the canister from her hands and continue to mix the contents.

“I—I can’t believe you did that.” Sandra finally sputtered. “You’re using children—”

I shook my head and tried to explain. “No. I’m not using children. We’re going to have kids anyway, and I thought why not use the idea of these future kids to persuade his parents to make the right decision now?”

Sandra made a choking sound then leaned on the kitchen counter. “You’re not going to—you’re not going to use the kids are you? Later? Once they’re born? You’re not going to manipulate his parents into….”

“No. Absolutely not.” I was horrified by the thought. “I would never do that. I just—I just want his mom and dad to give him a chance. I just want them to make an effort. He’s so…He’s so….”

“Grumpy?” Elizabeth said and poured the margarita into Sandra’s glass.

I scowled at Elizabeth’s inaccurate assessment of Quinn. “No. Not grumpy. He’s sensitive. He doesn’t show it to many people….”

She snorted. “You mean he only shows it to you.”

I didn’t want to debate the point, so I ignored her comment and continued explaining the situation to Sandra. I think part of me needed to justify my meddling and pushing regarding his family.

“But he is. And he misses his family. And they’re his family. And I want to meet them. I’ve never had a mother, not really, and his mom sounds great, except for the whole—you know—disowning her son thing. And why shouldn’t my children have grandparents?”

Elizabeth surprised me a little by saying, “They should. I completely support you in this decision.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth. Your support means a lot.”

Sandra was still frowning, seemed to be mulling over the situation, when she asked, “Well then, what about the reunion? I imagine it took a lot for you to get these people to agree to the visit, right?”

My attention moved from Sandra to Elizabeth, and I didn’t know how to respond. I couldn’t think of a solution, not one that would allow me to be in Boston and Iowa at the same time. My chest tightened uncomfortably because I knew the right thing to do was to cancel the dinner with Quinn’s family.

Maybe this was a sign. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to have initiated contact with his mother. Maybe, in the end, I would see that my efforts had been a mistake.

Before I could express this, however, Elizabeth surprised me by saying, “You should go to Boston.” She lifted her eyes to mine. “Really. Go to Boston.”

I shook my head. “I can reschedule. You can’t reschedule your reunion.”

“I’ll go.” Sandra’s sloppy declaration—sloppy because it was somewhat slurred—surprised us both.

I blinked at her. “To Boston?”

“No, Wonder Woman, I’ll go to Elizabeth’s high school reunion. I’ll go with Elizabeth, and you’re off to Boston with your McHotpants to go make babies for those awful people.”

I looked at Elizabeth. Elizabeth looked at me. Elizabeth looked at Sandra. Sandra looked at Elizabeth. I looked at Sandra. Sandra looked at me.

Sandra lifted her glass again, winked at Elizabeth, and toasted us both. “To friendscorts. Like escorts, but without the cash.”

CHAPTER 14

We were alone on Quinn’s plane.

Well, we weren’t completely alone. The pilot, Eve, and the flight attendant, Donna, were also on the plane. But, they didn’t really count because they tried to be basically invisible.

We planned to spend five days in Boston. Saturday evening, today, would be spent with Quinn’s parents. Sunday we had no plans. Monday through Wednesday would be spent with corporate clients in all-day meetings. We planned to fly back to Chicago on Thursday.

Dan had flown ahead of us two days prior, and we’d arranged for Steven to video conference on days when he was needed. Since the private client numbers were diminishing, Steven and I were splitting up the corporate accounts.

Therefore, Quinn and I were alone together on his plane, and Quinn’s plane was the last place we’d be together—as in together together—for several days.

He was sitting in his seat across from me reading a report like he didn’t have a care in the world—other than all the cares that were currently making him frown.

But I wasn’t thinking about work cares. I was thinking about the no-touching cares…the being-so-close-to-him-but-not-kissing cares…the he-didn’t-seem-to-be-at-all-affected-by-our-lack-of-intimacy cares.