You Were Made for Me

1: June 20, 2003

QUINN HAD BEEN living with me in my condo for a couple of months. Things were going well—at least I thought so. They were for me.

But Quinn… all of a sudden he’d get real quiet. Sometimes, while we were having dinner, he’d stop in the middle of a sentence and gaze off into space. Sometimes, while we were watching television or if I was catching up on paperwork, I’d look around or look up to see him staring at me with an expression on his face I couldn’t place.

Well, we were adults, and if there was a problem, I knew we’d hash it out.

But every time I opened my mouth to ask him what was bothering him, he’d give me that slow, hungry smile, and dammit, my train of thought would jump the tracks.

So then I really began to wonder what was going on. I didn’t think he was trying to come up with a way to tell me that while he liked me well enough, liked fucking with me—literally, not figuratively—it just wasn’t enough to want to stay with me.

It had actually become a running joke between us to announce, whether germane to the conversation or not, “I’m not breaking up with you.”

Although even better was, “I’m not letting you break up with me.”

Could he be sick? No, we spent too much time together for me not to pick up on something like that.

Could his mother be sick? Portia had been in that bad car accident the previous fall and had been in a coma for three days. Could she have brain damage? I worried over that for a bit, then decided it wasn’t likely, since the last time I’d spoken to her, she’d been sharp as a tack, as always. Besides, Quinn knew how much she meant to me. If he tried keeping something serious like that from me, I’d kick his ass all the way to Great Falls, where she lived and he’d grown up.

That just left Novotny. And yeah, Quinn might not tell me if his mother’s chauffeur was at death’s door, probably figuring I’d dance a jig if I found out. That was sad, and it hurt, but... it was kind of true. Novotny and I weren’t what you would call close.

Not to forget about his uncles, and that included Jefferson Sebring’s partner, Ludovic Rivenhall. These were men whose ages ranged from seventy-three to eighty-two. Jesus, being involved with family was complicated. I’d liked it better when I was the only person I had to worry about—

Okay, that wasn’t strictly true. Having a family… having Quinn’s family, was… nice.

So if anything was wrong with Quinn’s family, he’d let me know. In that case, the only other thing I could think of that might be wrong was work. I knew that lately, Quinn wasn’t altogether thrilled with the Company.

Well, whatever it was, he’d talk to me about it when he was ready.

But dammit, if someone was screwing with him, I’d make them pay in spades: they’d be sorry they’d ever been born.

~*~

THE C-FUCKING-I-FUCKING-A had sent Quinn out of the country, and because of orders not to contact anyone not on his team, we hadn’t been able to speak from the time I watched him board his jet at Dulles until I picked him up seven days later. I’d missed him. In the short time he’d lived with me, I’d gotten used to having someone in the condo. I liked having something more than the radio or the television or my CD player breaking the silence.

The year before, when I’d stayed with him for a time after my apartment had blown up, we’d both known it was a temporary arrangement. Eventually I’d moved back into the attic apartment I’d first rented in the early ’90s when I’d moved to DC. Then, with the help of Portia Mann, I’d found the condo in Aspen Reach and bought it.

Yeah, we’d stay at each other’s place overnight or even for a few days, but this was it. Quinn was here, and he was going to stay here. DB Cooper, the friend who turned out to be his cousin, was renting his town house, and Quinn wouldn’t be heading back there in the morning or after a wild weekend of hot and sweaty sex.

He’d missed me too while he’d been away, because we spent the rest of that day, that night, and the next few days and nights in bed, leaving it only for bathroom and meal breaks—had to keep up our energy. By the time we left the condo to go back to work, we were both a little gimpy. Not that I minded. It was nice having Quinn back.