“I am being your brother. What do you know about this guy?”
“Enough.”
“In less than a week, you know enough to sleep with him and accept expensive gifts?”
“It’s not your business. Stop judging me.”
“I’m not judging you. I’m trying to protect you.”
“Stop trying. I’m an adult. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you, Quinn?” he says quietly.
“Yes.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“It’s my life. Worry about your own and stay out of mine.”
Steven closes his eyes then opens them. “I think we should do dinner a different night.”
“I agree.”
He hands me the card that came with the Mac. “You’ve always been a good girl, Quinn. For your sake, I hope he’s worth it.”
My rage builds again. “A good girl? What does that even mean, Steven?”
“You’ve paid your bills. You’ve been in solid relationships. You’ve made sure you knew people before you slept with them.”
“What do you know about who I’ve slept with and haven’t? And where have those ‘solid relationships’ gotten me?”
“So far, not in Mom’s situation.”
“Stop. I’m so tired of having to pay for the sins of our mother. I’m not her.”
“I didn’t think so, but maybe you are.”
I glare at him.
“I’ll see you later, Quinn. Take care.” He turns and walks out.
I sit down at the table, my insides shaking with anger, hurt, and millions of thoughts racing through my brain.
Slowly, I uncrumple my fist and re-read the card.
Steven isn’t right. I’m not my mother, and I haven’t done anything wrong. I know enough about Jamison, and I deserve to be happy.
It’s time to stop living in my mother’s mistakes.
I turn on the computer, connect it to my Internet, and pull up my Dropbox. Every story I’ve ever written is in there.
My favorite one, the first one of my favorite series, one that had been rejected years ago several times, that I’ve edited, rewritten, and edited again over the years, I hit the share button on.
I do a search for Jamison’s company, and find his email, type it in the box. Then I write a message along with it.
Jamison,
I forgot to say thank you.