“Mom and Dad want to say hi for a second,” she said, linking our arms together. “They’re partying it up with a few other musicians scheduled to play tonight who are, conservatively, forty years younger than they are.”
“Wonderful,” I drawled. “What are they drinking back there? I could use some.”
“You could. You are doing an extraordinary job, Fi.”
I dropped my head to her shoulder. “I’m exhausted but extraordinarily happy. We’re going to have so much fun tonight.”
“It might even be a stage-diving night.”
“What?” I laughed. “God, no. I’ve done a lot of brave things this week, but I don’t need to be risking my life at this show.”
My sister was silent and then stopped me before we got to the warm-up area. “How have things been with Max the past few days? Have you seen each other at all?”
Seen each other was the understatement of the century.
“We’re not at sex swing levels,” I said, dropping my voice. “But I can say that I’ve gone to work every day with a smile on my face and an inability to sit properly.”
She looked back over at Max in a completely approving way. “I always thought Max Devlin was a fucking freak.”
“You are accurate.”
We shared a sisterly smirk before her expression grew cautious. “Any more conversations about California? What you’re going to do?”
I bit my lip and didn’t try to hide my concern. This was my sister, after all. I knew she’d understand. “No, and I am… low-key worried.”
She nodded. “Totally normal.”
“He wants to keep dating. and I absolutely want to keep dating. Having a new relationship basically start off long distance with no idea of when, or if, he’d ever move back is…” I trailed off, pictured my contract. All those clear deliverables. “Well, I can’t tell if it’s scary in a positive way or a negative way.”
Her brow furrowed. “Have you been clear with what you want?”
“Yes?” I said. “And also, no? I feel like allowing myself to really experience this relationship means not putting the kind of restraints and labels on it that the old me wants to do. I’m letting Max take the lead a little, which I think is good for me. Plus, asking him to change his entire life around because we’ve been dating each other for a grand total of seven days seems too reckless.” I chewed on my lip. “Right?”
Roxy tracked the movements of her handsome fiancé, who looked dashing in his tailored suit and perfectly styled hair as he walked through the crowds. “It’s a tough call. If Edward had to move back to London right after we’d started dating, I would have done anything to keep us together. Long distance, long visits. Moving there.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to leave this city. My life, my job, my family. That’s not the plan.”
“I know.” She hugged me close. “I don’t want you to leave either. But it sounds like, regardless of what’s next for you both, it’s going to feature a whole lot of communication and compromise.”
“I can do that,” I said—hoping a confidence I did not really feel shone through. Roxy looked like she didn’t buy it but was compassionate enough not to press.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s enjoy the hell out of tonight. I have faith you and Max will work it out.”
I nodded, followed her into the back, but not before catching Max in the crowd. He was staring at his phone, looking uncharacteristically worried. Then he stared at the front door, craning his neck to see around another band walking in with their instruments.
I slipped through the door and into The Red Room’s backstage area—a series of rooms I knew as intimately as my neighborhood. Roxy gave me a secretive smile, and then my parents and the bands were standing to clap.
I spun around, but Roxy tugged my hand. “For you, Fi.”
My parents came over with outstretched arms.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
They pulled me in for a tight hug. “We wanted to celebrate your good work, your fierce heart, and your dedication to a place that means so much to so many of us,” Mom said.
“Oh.” I squeezed them back. “You do not need to thank me. This was a huge team effort, as you all know.”
My dad patted my arm with a knowing look. “Of course, it was. But we all know your special Fiona skills pulled everything together and made sure this show will go off without a hitch. That’s because of you.”
“We’re Quinns. We fight back,” I said—to a rousing cheer from the bands in the back.
My mom nodded, pressing her hand to my cheek. “Yes, of course, dear. But you are Fiona. And you did this because you are a tremendous human being. We had not a thing to do with it.”
“I’m always proud to know I have a David for a daughter,” Dad said. “Makes me extra excited to keep fighting against the Goliaths.”
I was—almost unbearably—touched. It had been a long time since my parents had celebrated something this specific and real about my life. They connected so easily with Roxy’s job and art. I’d watched my sister tattoo our parents herself. It wasn’t like I could have them hang out at the firm while I was working with clients to update the medical directives on their estate documents. There was no entry point into my career for them. And that always felt like a loss to me, especially since Roxy was always so happy to have them at her shop.
So this was more appreciated than I could express at the moment, especially given my exhaustion, my worries about California, and the fact that my feet hadn’t touched the ground since my first kiss with Max.
I was a little discombobulated, to say the least.
“Aw, you guys,” I said, “I don’t even know what to say to this.”
“Don’t say anything.” Roxy handed me a shot glass. “Just drink with us.”
“Gladly.” And then I clinked my shot glass against my sister’s and against my aging, punk rock parents’—with their blue hair and ripped jeans and endless desire to do what made them happy, even when it was scary. I couldn’t quiet the voice of doubt creeping in—not-so-gently suggesting that I needed to be firmer with Max on my fears. Or needed to evaluate what a new, long-distance relationship three time zones away would be like for a lawyer that worked 60 hours a week.
So instead of quieting it, I did the next best thing. Tossed back a shot of whiskey with my family, threw my arm in the air, and let out a loud, energizing whoop. Roxy did the same, getting into position for one of our favorite things to do as kids. She bent down, arms outstretched, and I swung myself into her waiting arms.
Roxy spun me around as my dad played a spontaneous guitar solo and my mom cheered.
I was completely and utterly out of control with my emotions. I couldn’t even begin to think about the contract I’d written with my sister and Edward all of two weeks ago. It felt like a lifetime. It didn’t feel like me. I was currently plan-free, goal-free, and dating a bad boy about to move to the West Coast.
But I was a fucking Quinn, after all.
What was stopping me from chasing that joy?