Chapter 10: The First Night

There was a bus to Quincy's building, which I took as a personal insult.

He had texted the address at six.

Eight o'clock. Don't walk.

I wore the only dress I owned that had no stain and no hazard.

It was the nine-thousand-dollar one, with its tags still tucked into the seam.

He opened the door in his shirtsleeves with his watch off.

"You came."

"I'm here to inspect."

"Inspect what?"

"Rule one is struck. Rule two is on file. Rule three, I'm told, is going well."

"I've said nothing to Posy."

"I noticed. You let the casserole go cold."

"It was cold when she brought it."

I stepped past him into the hall, turned around, and put my back against his front door.

"I want to be clear," I said. "I'm not here because of a dress, or an apology, or a pen."

"Why are you here?"

"Because for two weeks you have stood exactly two feet from me, and I've counted every inch."

He let out a sound that was half a laugh.

Then he crossed the two feet in one step and kissed me against the door.

It was nothing like the kitchen.

It was slow now, and deliberate, and he took his time with my mouth until my knees stopped being any help.

He found the zipper at my back and drew it down.

The dress loosened. A paper tag slid out of the seam and dangled against my hip.

He looked at it.

"You really did keep the tags."

"They're my receipt."

"You can still return it."

"Not tonight," I said, and pushed the dress off my shoulders and let it fall.

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