Christmas Coda 65

Christmas Coda 65 – Andrew and Quinn from HIDE AND SEEK

 

 

Quinn stuck his head through the door to Andy’s office at Art Recovery Team, LLC, and said, “Hey. Got a minute?”

Andy’s heart lifted—there was never going to be a time his heart didn’t lift at the sight of Quinn—but he warned, “A minute is about all I have.” He nodded at the scattered files and logs on his desk. Business was very good. Almost better than they could handle.

Quinn pulled out the chair in front of Andy’s desk, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the littered desktop.

“How’s it going?” Quinn’s green gaze rested on Andy’s face.

Andy sighed, more wearily than he’d intended. “It’s going.”

“Another late night?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Quinn nodded thoughtfully. Abruptly, he rose. “Let’s go for a walk.”

There was nothing Andy would have enjoyed more, which made him snappish. “I wish I could, but I’d like to be home before midnight.”

“Come on,” Quinn coaxed. “The fresh air will do you good.”

That was probably true, although unreasonably, it irritated Andy all the more. He just wanted to get the day’s paperwork done, so that he could get home at a reasonable hour and then maybe they could spend a little time together. There was definitely not a lot of togetherness time lately.

That was the down side of unexpected success.

But he rose, grabbed his jacked off the hook behind the door, and proceeded Quinn through the door Quinn politely held for him.

“Back in five,” he told Mia, their new front desk person.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Quinn giving Mia a wink—and caught Mia’s grin.

That time he managed to keep his sigh to himself, but sometimes he felt like the only adult currently employed at Art Recovery Team, LLC.

They went down the wooden steps—the snow was piling up again—and Quinn said, “You want to grab a coffee?”

“Quinn. Seriously.” 

He could tell from the heavy sag of the clouds overhead that more snow was on the way. The air seemed to crackle with ice and sea salt, but Quinn had been right about one thing. It was invigorating to be outside in the cold, clear air. To see the shop windows brightly lit and gorgeously decorated, to hear the canned holiday tunes drifting from the little businesses up and down Main Street cheered me up a little.

“Seriously. Let’s get coffee.” Quinn did look serious, so Andy stopped protesting. He felt a flash of unease. He wasn’t the only one feeling the stress of starting a new business. They were both working all the time, both putting in late nights and crack-of-dawn mornings. Inevitably it was putting a strain on their relationship.

 

They ordered cinnamon coffee at the little café down the street from Time in a Bottle.

“Cutty says you haven’t been by to see him this week.” Quinn stirred his coffee.

Andy frowned. “When did you see Cutty?”

“I ran into him earlier.”

Ran into him where? But Andy let that go. It wasn’t like he wanted—or needed—to start checking up on Quinn.

Andy said, “I’ve been meaning to stop by all week. I just haven’t had a free minute.”

Quinn’s cheek curved. His smile was wry. “That’s kind of what I want to talk to you about.”

Andy frowned. “What is?”

“When we talked about going into business together, was this what you pictured?”

Andy stared. He wasn’t sure where Quinn was going with this, but he felt certain it wasn’t good. He said defensively, “I didn’t think we’d have so many clients right out of the gate, no.”

“Me neither.”

“But that’s actually a good thing. We both poured everything we had into starting ART LLC. Would you prefer if we were in the red?”

 “No. But somewhere between being in the red and not having time for a cup of coffee with my boyfriend…”

Andy thought he knew where this was going. Quinn was not a nine-to-five kind of guy and he was bound to find any steady job, even in a field as varied and unpredictable as art recovery, increasingly monotonous and restrictive.

The job and maybe the relationship with Andy as well.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Andy said, a little stiffly.

Quinn said quietly, “Tell me that this is what you want.”

Andy felt sick with disappointment. Maybe he should have expected it. They were both so tired all the time. There were days they barely saw each other. “Is this not what you want?”

“You just answered a question with a question.”

Andy said slowly, carefully, “It’s not what I thought it was going to be.”

No lie. He had not imagined that he would be stuck forever behind a desk dealing with all the paperwork. Quinn was out there Doing All The Things while Andy was shuffling paper, talking to bureaucrats, and memorizing rules and regulations.

“Me neither. I think we need to hire someone.”

“Hire someone?” Andy repeated.

“We can afford another team member. Especially, if it means more time for us.”

For us.

Andy was so relieved he’d probably have agreed to hiring a whole fleet new hires as well as a private jet. He’d been afraid Quinn was ready to pack it all in—Andy included.

He relaxed, said resigned, rueful, “I guess you want another field agent?”

“I sure as hell don’t.” Quinn was so adamant, they got a few surprised glances from the holiday shoppers in the tables around them. “I’m thinking we hire an actual book keeper.”

“But we don’t need a book keeper. I can—”

“No. You’re not a book keeper,” Quinn said. “You didn't give up your job to become a book keeper."

Technically, he hadn't give up his job,  but in the essentials, Quinn was correct.

"The idea was we were going to do this together.”

Andy opened his mouth but he had no answer,

Exactly. That was exactly it. It wasn’t that Andy needed constant action and adventure. But book keeper, controller, office manager…none of those had ever been on his radar for things he wanted to do with his life. He’d been trying his best to hide his disappointment and growing dissatisfaction, but maybe he hadn’t done as good a job as he’d thought.

He felt obliged to make the same argument he made to himself almost daily, “We are, though. We’re just not—” He stopped as Quinn began to shake his head.

“Partners. All the way. That was the plan. That’s what I want.”

A few minutes ago, Andy had been dry-mouthed with fear and now he couldn’t stop smiling. “Okay, but—”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Well, yes. Sure, but at first, it wasn’t practical for both of us--”

“I don’t care if it’s practical or not,” Quinn interrupted. “When I said I wanted to spend our lives together, I meant spend every day together. Not an hour at night when we’re both to tired to see straight or an hour in the morning, when we’ve each got one eye on the clock.”

“If you think it makes sense,” Andy said meekly, as though he wasn’t warm all the way through with happiness and relief.

“I think it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Andy picked up his coffee cup, but set it down again.

“What’s so funny?” Quinn asked. He was smiling too, a little curious, a lot affectionate.

Andy shook his head, reached over to Quinn, who took his hand and squeezed it warmly. “Just…best Christmas gift ever.”