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Chapter_82
Quinn’s breath caught at the sudden command, her shoulders stiffening in response. She was acutely aware of the tension that filled the room, a heavy atmosphere thickened by unspoken judgments. Kaitlyn’s voice cut through the silence like a knife, but Quinn simply nodded, too tired to argue, and began to move toward the kitchen.
As she passed by Wayne, he eyed her briefly, his disapproval palpable, though he said nothing. The weight of his gaze lingered, a silent reminder of how little she truly belonged here. Quinn’s stomach twisted, but she pushed the unease down, focusing instead on the task ahead. Help with the cooking—it seemed so trivial, yet she knew this was one of the few ways she could blend into their world, even if it was only for a few hours.
Freya’s hand tightened around her phone as Alexander’s call went unanswered once again. She tried his number a second time, muttering something under her breath. “Typical,” she muttered, frustration creeping into her tone as the call went straight to voicemail once more. She glanced at Kaitlyn, the two women exchanging a knowing look, but neither said anything more. The suspicion was clear in the air—Alexander was somewhere else. But where exactly?
In the kitchen, Quinn stood near the counter, her hands fumbling with the ingredients in front of her. The fruit she had bought earlier now sat in a bowl, untouched, while she mechanically began peeling potatoes. Her thoughts, however, wandered far from the task at hand. It felt strange to be here, in this house, among these people who had never fully accepted her.
Despite her best efforts to hold herself together, the pain of being here without Alexander gnawed at her insides. She tried not to think about the distance between them—the emotional gulf that had grown ever wider between them over the past few months. The absence of his presence now felt like a heavy ache in her chest.
As she moved around the kitchen, Valerie entered, her eyes sharp as she took in the scene. Quinn tensed slightly, but Valerie didn’t seem inclined to start another confrontation. Instead, she leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, her gaze flickering between Quinn and the stove.
“You’re good at this,” Valerie remarked, her voice surprisingly neutral. “Cooking, I mean.”
Quinn didn’t respond immediately, surprised by the lack of malice in Valerie’s tone. After a moment, she said softly, “It’s just something to do.”
“Yeah, well, I guess we all have our distractions.” Valerie’s words were offhand, but there was an edge to them, a certain weariness. Quinn glanced over, meeting her eyes, but Valerie quickly looked away, focusing instead on the counter.
The silence that followed was thick, pregnant with the weight of all the things neither woman said. Quinn resumed her task, chopping vegetables now with mechanical precision. Valerie watched for a moment longer before she straightened and headed back toward the living room.
As Quinn continued working, she could hear the faint sound of conversation from the other room. Wayne’s booming voice, Kaitlyn’s sharp retorts, and Freya’s impatience as she argued once more with the phone in her hand. But it was all just noise to Quinn now, a blur of words that held no meaning.
Her fingers shook slightly as she chopped a particularly stubborn onion, the sharp sting of the blade mingling with the sting of her own thoughts. What had happened to her life? What had happened to her marriage? Quinn squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, as if willing the thoughts to disappear.
The clatter of a door opening snapped her out of her thoughts. Walter appeared in the doorway again, holding Peanut, the child now content and calm after his diaper change.
“Everything alright?” Quinn asked, her voice quieter than she intended. Walter gave her a knowing smile, as though seeing through the layers she had built up to protect herself.
“Just fine,” he said easily. “Thanks for the apple.”
Quinn gave him a small smile, the first genuine expression she had worn all evening. “You’re welcome,” she murmured, before turning back to the task at hand.
As she continued her work, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just a visitor here, a guest in her own life. And the feeling wasn’t just physical—it went deeper. Alexander’s absence made her more acutely aware of the void between them, a void she didn’t know how to bridge.
Dinner would be served soon, and though she was doing her best to appear normal, Quinn couldn’t escape the underlying truth: she wasn’t sure where she stood anymore—not with Alexander, and not with this family. She only hoped that the night would end soon, before she lost herself entirely in the ever-expanding distance.
