We were Quinns. We always fought back.
She squeezed my hand. “What you and Max are doing, for Pop, for our community, it means the world.”
Pop cleared his throat. “This isn’t the first time things have been tough for us. Especially after me and Max’s mom got divorced, I was struggling to promote it. Keep the doors open.” He waved his hand at my parents. “That’s when I met Lou and Sandy. And they begged me for that Tuesday night slot. Changed everything for me.”
My dad held up the poster, examining it from all angles. “Mateo, you captured the spirit of The Red Room perfectly. It’s so fucking alive.”
“It’s alive at a time when this city wants more things to be dead and boring,” he said. “That’s what my gallery is all about. Reminding us that we live in the most vibrant city in the world. We should celebrate the hell out of it, and we should do that through the arts.”
My mom stopped playing for a second, laying the guitar down across her lap. “When we begged you for that spot, Lou and I were dangling by a thread. We had bills to pay and two daughters relying on us, and we knew if we didn’t start building a fan base, a community, we weren’t going to be able to keep living our dream. You saved us as much as we saved you, Pop.”
Pop smiled, turning ruddy-faced again. “Yeah, well. People didn’t like punk music back in the day. They definitely didn’t like it when you started headlining. But we showed them, didn’t we?”
“No one gets to control music. No one gets to control art or inspiration or what we do with it,” my dad said. “It is our right, as humans, to reach for as much joy as possible. Even if its fucking messy.”
Pop chuckled. “Yeah. Sometimes it gets a little messy.”
I held my tongue. I’d helped to untangle a lot of those messes for my parents over the years. Because bills did need to get paid. But after last night’s burst of extreme joy and total, chaotic happiness, I couldn’t find it in my heart to resist what they were saying. Which I so often did. Max was messy in the best way, and my feelings for him were an unruly sunburst of sensation.
Setting deadlines and task-oriented outcomes to that sunburst would take away all the fun.
Not that I’d ever tell my sister she’d been right… again.
“Luckily, we got Max and Fi and Mateo and Rafael and that fancy English dude, Edward, all helping out,” Pop continued. “I guess I forgot that people care or whatever.”
“They do care, Pop,” Max said. “Or whatever.”
My dad was still fawning over the poster, asking Mateo questions about his medium and which materials he used. Rafael watched his fiancé with loving adoration, the kind of look I saw happen a dozen times a day between Edward and Roxy, between even my parents, who’d been together for decades now. The way Rafael gazed at Mateo—like he was responsible for the moon and the stars—had never been a factor on any spreadsheet or contract of mine.
My mom opened the cooler by her feet and handed a beer to Max. “Much obliged,” he said, raising it towards her.
“Congratulations on your new job,” my mom said. “You must be so excited, although we’ll miss you terribly. Seems like you just rolled back into town.”
Pop’s brow furrowed, but he stayed silent.
Max, however, was all easy confidence. “Thank you,” he said. “To be honest, it hasn’t really hit me yet. I’ve been a little distracted.”
I stared down at the floor to hide my blush.
“I guess you could say it’s a dream job. Doing custom motorcycle builds for celebrities out in L.A. Plus I’ve lived all over but not spent much time on the West Coast. It’s time for me to take these itchy feet on out there probably.”
I fiddled with my beer label, trying to appear as relaxed and casual as Max.
“How exciting,” my mom said. “Sounds very creative.”
He lifted a shoulder. “That’s the thing. Being a mechanic is in my blood, but it can be a little predictable. It’s a job I like that lets me play with bikes and live all over. This one could be different though.”
If Max and I kept seeing each other right up to the day he left, it would still mean we’d been dating for barely a week. So blurting out my very confusing feelings about wanting him to stay, to search for a job here, felt much too fast and way too intense.
Right?
The truth of the matter was that if I’d just gotten the job I’d always dreamed of and a man I was dating asked me to stay, I’d be on the first plane out with nary a wave back.
I just couldn’t, couldn’t, deny the twisting in my gut at picturing Max climbing on that bike and riding off into the literal sunset. Away from me.
“I’m going to miss it here, though,” Max continued. He tapped my foot with his boot, getting my attention. “It was easier to leave when I was younger.” He paused, caught my eye. “It’s much, much harder now.”
Pop rubbed his head and looked uncomfortable. I’d known Pop most of my life and figured he’d rather pull his fingernails out than tell Max how he really felt.
My mom cleared her throat next to me. “Yes, well, with the things they have these days, like all that video chatting, I’ve heard it’s so easy to stay in touch.”
Max pressed his boot hard against my foot. “I heard the same thing. Would love to give that a try.”
My heart danced a fucking jig in my chest.
“I’ll go grab our dinner,” I said, standing up quickly. “There should be enough if you guys want to share?”
“There is nothing I want more,” Mateo said.
“Amazing.” I sounded nervous. But Max’s words had made me so. “And I’ll find the paper cups, grab some plates.”
“Fiona Quinn, you are a fucking genius,” my dad cheered.
“Oh, I’m well aware.” I slowly backed out of the garage, only fully exhaling when I was inside our house and on the second floor. I dug through our hallway closet, barely suppressing the urge to organize it. But I pressed on, cups in hand, stomach all jumpy.
Which is why I screamed when strong fingers grabbed me around the elbow and yanked me into my old, dark bedroom.
30
Fiona
Max pushed me back against the door and crashed our mouths together. It wasn’t a rough or sloppy kiss, though—it was sweet, tender, and full of yearning. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on tight. He tilted his head, deepened the kiss, groaning low in his throat. We stayed that way for a few long, dreamy minutes until we finally surfaced for air.
His face was far too handsome, backlit by the setting sun through my open bedroom window. “So.” He smoothed my hair from my face, kissed my forehead. “This was a fucking setup, right?”
“Oh, yeah. My parents called Pop, Pop got you here, then they called me.”
“Do you think they like me?”
I burst out laughing. “Lou and Sandy have loved you and your dad for two decades. Even if you are, technically, sneaking into their daughter’s childhood bedroom to kiss her brains out.”
He broke into a wicked, wicked smile. Tilted my chin up with one finger. “Sneaking into bedrooms is kind of my thing, princess. And I’ll take any opportunity I can get to kiss those pretty lips of yours.”