BooksBarbecue
Back Again, Rachel
Chapters (98)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. 93
  97. 94
  98. Acknowledgements

Mind you, I was far from smug about this. My libido still flickered with regular life because Quin and I didn’t live together. But if I moved in with him, I knew that the very second I’d lined up the last of my sneakers on the floor of the wardrobe, I’d start yelling, ‘Birthdays, Christmas and our anniversary! Any other night of the year? Don’t even think about it!’

I was fairly sure that I loved Quin but I hadn’t—yet—told him, because those words shouldn’t be thrown around until I was absolutely certain I meant them.

The thing was, the way I felt about Quin was very different to how I’d felt about Luke. After Quin and I had been seeing each other for maybe four or five months, he’d pinned me down about it.

‘What’s the difference between me and your ex?’ he’d asked. ‘Be honest, Rach. I want to know what I’m dealing with here.’

‘Luke was like…’ Carefully, I picked my way through the words, trying to be accurate. ‘…a French sauce that’s been reduced and reduced.’

Quin flinched. ‘Christ. And what am I?’

‘You’re like…’ In a panic, I was trying to find something that would wipe away his hurt. ‘Like Jo Burger’s cheesy fries. Absolutely delicious. And moreish. Just different.’

He wasn’t happy but he didn’t labour the point. Except for now and again, maybe after he’d made me laugh like a drain or we’d had a lively couple of hours in bed, he’d mutter darkly, ‘Jo Burger’s cheesy fries…’

Quin hinted heavily that he loved me, but, being Quin, he was too competitive to run the risk of saying it, then being left hanging by my silence.

Sometimes I wondered how long we could go without saying, ‘I love you.’ If we could last an entire relationship? An entire lifetime?

But having seen Luke, I was asking myself if I’d been wrong to have held out on Quin. It was as if a spotlight was suddenly illuminating different types of romantic love. The version of me who had fallen for Luke was much more innocent than the woman who had met Quin. I was so much wiser now, shaped and changed by all that life had given me, good and bad.

And Quin was a very different man to Luke. So of course the love I felt for Quin—and I was starting to accept that it was love—would be different to how I’d felt about Luke.