The chair of the search committee is nice enough to walk her back to her car. Quinn wishes he hadn't; the short trek is just that much longer that she has to be composed and on edge.

"It's shouldn't be very long before we make our decision," he said, white teeth gleaming in the sunlight. "We should probably be able to let you know by the end of the month."

Quinn puts on her best smile, her thousandth fake smile of the day. "I look forward to hearing from you. Please let me know if I can answer any more questions." She's running out of lines, but thankfully he shakes her hand and wishes her safe travels home. Quinn feels like an idiot after she says, "You too," to the man who's just walking back inside the building.

The moment the car door shuts she kicks off her heels.

The second thing she does is turn on her phone. She's had it powered off since she arrived in the parking lot three hours ago. Sam's been busy.

Ur gonna b amazing!

Theyll luv u!

OMG I wanna know rite now!

Did u get it? U got it rite? I know u got it!

And then there are several messages of just emojis, which she guesses are supposed to be encouraging. He's sweet and it makes her smile, probably her first real smile since arriving at the advertising agency hours ago.

XxXxX

It's late when Sam arrives. After work he usually goes home to his cramped apartment, spends time with his family, helps them move some of their remaining possessions from storage, whatever they can do without, and takes them to consignment and pawn shops. He usually eats with them, but then, when it's time to sleep, he comes to her. Quinn had pushed for that. He shouldn't have to sleep on the floor in his own home.

Quinn pulls him to her on the couch; he lets her, his body slumping against hers. She puts her arms around him, one hand pushing through his hair. He's got to be exhausted. In addition to all the other stuff, all the demands on his time after he gets home from work, he also has to plan his lessons for the next day, make sure that he's doing everything he can to successfully teach a pack of eight year olds how to become functioning human beings. It's after midnight now, and she knows he'll probably still get up at six in the morning to do pushups, Saturday be damned.

"Mom made me promise to tell you how much she loved the potatoes," Sam mumbled into her shoulder.

His mom is seriously the nicest person Quinn's ever met. There's also the fact that his mother is only five years her senior, but she tries not to think about that.

"I think you've told me that every day since your parents came to dinner."

"She's pushy with gratitude."

Having his parents over had been nice, but Quinn hadn't enjoyed it. You don't enjoy coming eye to eye with the parents of the guy you're sleeping with, not when they're only five years ahead of you in this crazy game called life. But they're good people. It certainly wasn't their fault that meeting them had just reinforced the certainty that she had no idea where this relationship could possibly lead. And yes, that still made her stomach hurt.

Sam pushed himself up on his elbow and brought her back to the present. "Do you feel good about your interview?"

He's talking about the job she'd applied for on a whim, the job she was nervous as hell about, the job she didn't feel she was qualified for, and the job she wanted badly.

Quinn shrugged. "I think it was ok. I thought of much better answers to their questions once I was back to my car."

"That happens for everyone. I bet they call you back any day now."

She could argue with him and list all the reasons why she won't get the job. All her life, Quinn's battled between confidence and doubt, back and fourth. Even at thirty-nine, there's still a fight going on between Lucy Caboosey and the head cheerleader. She can never decide which outsiders see when they look at her.

But she doesn't feel like getting into any of that right now. "Are you ready to go to bed?"

Sam grinned. "By "bed," do you mean both of us naked, bodies intwined in an epic battle of passion and desire?"

"Yeah, I don't think that's what I meant. Don't you ever get tired?" Seriously, he'd have sex three times a day if she let him. Must have something to do with being twenty-two.

"I am tired," he shrugged, a dirty smile still pulling at the edge of his lips. "But then I picture you naked, and I wake right up. Certain parts of me wake up in a big way."

"Oh, and I thought that was the remote poking me."

It definitely wasn't the remote rubbing between her legs. Sam was already starting to groan at the heat building between them. Quinn put her finger to his lips; they were on the couch and you never knew when Alec might wake up from a bad dream, need to pee, or want to get a drink of water from the kitchen.

She pulled Sam by the hand to her bedroom and shut the door behind them. His hands were under her shirt the moment the door clicked into place.

"I've been thinking about you all day long." His breath's hot against her neck, hands releasing her bra, hips pushing against hers. "I'm always thinking about you."

Quinn pulls his shirt off. Something happened to her the night he fixed her washing machine. That was the day she became addicted to abs that could cut glass. She has a feel, lets her nails run over the ridges of hard muscle and pink skin. He knows how much she appreciates his body and it shows on his face.

Another thing he knows is foreplay. He knows what she needs, knows how to make her eyes roll back in her head. She comes against the motions of his fingers after an embarrassingly brief amount of time. Quinn finally opens her eyes to see him leaning over her, smirking.

"You liked that, huh?"

She swats at him, like he's a gorgeous blonde gnat, but then he says something about how it'd be nice if they could get down to business, "Unless you'd like me to jizz all over the bedspread, cause I'm really that horny." And no, she doesn't want that.

Tonight he's above her, kissing her but then biting his lip, his face is clenching, cheeks red, chest hard, then a final thrust. He always waits for her then follows, holding out as long as he can. He's still for a moment, afterwards, on top, face next to hers, breathing into her hair. Quinn can feel him softening inside her. He pulls out and it's sort of funny to see it flop. Sometimes she likes to play with it, tease him, but now she's tired.

Sam brings a wet washcloth back from the bathroom. It's late, so they'll just be gross and sleep like this, shower in the morning. The room feels hot and sticky, there's a grit that comes from exerting yourself like that. Quinn's drowsy, but she watches him clean himself after he does her; it's hot to watch him touch himself.

And then the covers come up. Sam pulls in close. It probably won't be long before they're both hot and pushing apart, but they usually start the night snuggled together, his arm around her waist, her head on his chest. It's nice, and now she's really ready for sleep.

But Sam just has to ruin it. "I love you."

XxXxX

Sam falls asleep quickly but Quinn lingers, awake, staring at the ceiling, that earlier fatigue from the late hour and their exertions brushed aside. She's soon hot and pushing his heavier frame away, careful not to wake him up. Sam rolls easily next to her, onto his back. From the dim light outside the window she can see his chest rising and falling.

What did he mean, saying something like that? You don't just say that, like it's normal.

Knowing Sam, it wasn't planned. He didn't plan things, he just felt them and then followed through on his impulses. If he planned things, he probably would have had time to realize that asking out the thirty-nine year old mother of one of his students was a bad idea. But that ship had sailed.

God. Now she's got to say something.

XxXxX

He and Alec are already eating breakfast when she wakes up. What with Sam staying over so frequently thanks to his family moving into his own apartment, Quinn had decided that she might as well quit pretending that Alec didn't have a clue as to what was going on.

"I know that you said it doesn't bother you that Mr. Evans and I are dating," she said one evening, her son across from her on the couch. "Would it be ok with you if he started staying over some nights?" He already was, mostly on weekends, but they tried to get up early every morning, before Alec.

"Yeah. Will he sleep with you?"

"Um, yes."

"Ok, just as long as he doesn't have to sleep with me. I don't have room."

So, what she'd been dreading had turned out to be a non issue.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Sam kissed her cheek and got up from his spot at the table to put some eggs and bacon on a plate. Since he was staying over more, he'd convinced her to make the transition to turkey bacon. "If you like my abs, we're both going to have to make sacrifices to keep them," he'd said.

"Mom," Alec said around a mouthful of toast, "Mr. Evans said that if you said it was ok, we could go to the movies today."

"Hmm." It's Saturday so they have all day free, but after what Sam had said last night, her mind wasn't on the movies. "We'll see."

"That means no," Alec sagely interpreted for his teacher.

When her son had finished eating and dashed off to his room to whatever distractions called to eight year old boys on Saturday mornings, Quinn noticed Sam staring at her.

"What?"

"Nothing." He stuck his tongue out at her. "You just look beautiful this morning."

She most certainly did not. She hadn't looked in the mirror yet, but it just occurred to Quinn that she'd shared breakfast with her son while most likely suffering from an awful case of sex hair. Add that to the lack of makeup, oversized shirt and baggy sweatpants, and she highly doubts that she's even in the same solar system as "beautiful."

"Why do you just say things like that?"

"'Cause it's true."

Hmm. Quinn glances towards towards the hallway and sees her son's door is shut, which suits her purposes. "I think that we need to talk."

"Oh, that's never good." But his tone says that he's joking and doesn't see any storm clouds on the horizon.

"What did you mean last night?"

Sam looks confused. Admittedly, she wasn't giving him much to go on.

"When you said that you loved me," Quinn clarified.

"Oh." Sam smiled, reached over to squeeze her knee. "I meant that I love you. That's not very mysterious, right?"

"Why did you say it?"

"Because that's how I feel. I don't get where this is going."

"You can't just say things like that."

Sam winked and, she actually can't believe this, gave her a pair of finger guns. "First amendment, babe." He still thinks she's joking.

Quinn rolled her eyes and got up to walk to her bedroom. As she knew he would, Sam followed. His voice isn't nearly so jocular when he says, "What'd I do? I'm at a loss here."

She shuts the door; eight year olds pop up like zits on prom night; always at the wrong time.

"Do you think we're moving too fast?"

"What do you mean?"

She doesn't know. Quinn sits down on the edge of her bed. "You're twenty-two."

It's his turn to roll his eyes and suddenly he's not joking. "God, this again?"

Quinn decides to push ahead and just talk until something makes sense. "Yes, again. Do you remember the night you told me about your parents? The night you told me about them losing their house?"

He nods.

"Well, before you told me that, I thought you were going to break up with me."

"That wasn't —"

She's not finished. "I know, and that's not the point. When I thought you were going to break up with me, it hurt. It made my stomach ache. That's the point. It hurt too much, because you're twenty-two and it's going to happen someday."

Sam bit his lip. His forehead creased and she can hear him breathe in, obviously thinking of something to say. The right thing to say, if there is such a thing at this point. Quinn doesn't let him.

"This sounds corny and stupid, and I hate it, but everything's gone too far, and I have to think about me."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

Adults don't talk in terms like that. Things just end, sometimes acrimoniously, sometimes with a whimper. They don't line out demarkations, not unless it's a messy divorce after a decade and a half of marriage.

"I don't know." And she doesn't. She doesn't want to break up with him; the thought still hurts as much as it had the night she'd thought it was coming.

"If I scared you last night, I didn't mean to. I didn't mean for it to be some big moment. It's just how I feel about you."

There'd been nothing wrong with what he'd said, except that the terms had been so stark, so laden with meaning, that it forced her to take stock. To stay up most of the night thinking thoughts that she'd pushed away since the day she realized that dating him wasn't so crazy after all.

Quinn tries to say the right thing. "Some day you're going to want to leave me."

"You don't know that."

"But I know that you're in your twenties, and even though it doesn't seem like it's even close, someday you're going to realize that you want kids, that you want to be married. Where does that leave me?"

"I don't think that far ahead."

"Well, I do. I have to. You say you love me now, but what about when you want those things?"

"If we both decide we want those things, why can't I have them with you?"

That's so ludicrous that she doesn't even dignify it with a response. The idea of her having another baby. He doesn't even know what he means; it more shooting from the hip.

"Look, I don't want what we have to be over." Saying 'break up' sounds like something from a teen drama. "But I do think we've moved too fast."

Sam pushed his hair away from his face, rubbed at his eyes. It's clear that he's humoring her. "Ok?"

"Let's just cool down for a little bit, take a break." Quinn stops him because he's clearly going to argue. "Not see other people or any of that cliched stuff." That's the last thing she wants. God, as if she could handle another man. "If this is real, then we can stand a break."

"I know it's real."

And she believes that he thinks that. It's not his fault that he's just twenty-two and can't imagine that he'll ever feel differently than he does right in this moment. That's the amazing thing about being twenty-two - life hasn't forced you to reevaluate anything yet. Quinn makes the mistake of telling him that.

"I don't really appreciate it when you talk to me like I'm a child."

"I didn't mean it that way."

Sam gets up from his place sitting beside her. He jams his hands into his pockets like he's mad at them. "Well, as long as we're putting stuff out there, I just feel like I should say that I don't like it when you patronize me, and by the way, you do it a lot."

Alright, that irritates her a little.

"You're always telling me that I can't know how I feel, that I'll think differently when I'm older. Maybe, you know this is just a thought, but maybe I don't really like it when you just assume that I can't know what I'm talking about."

"I never meant —"

"I think you did mean it. I mean, that's what you've been telling me today, right?" Sam starts pacing the room. "You're worried that we're in too deep and you'll get hurt because I'm too young and stupid to be in an adult relationship, right? I might just turn into a jerk and dump you, right?"

They've never had a fight before, and she's never heard his voice sound like this, never seen his eyes look like this. They should have had a fight before this, should have argued about money or whether to go out on Friday night or how they don't actually like each others' friends. But there had been no arguments, so the first one has to be like this.

"Well," he went on, now moving to the other side of the bed, his side, it'd become recently, to find his clothes; he'd been wearing basketball shorts and an old t-shirt. "I'm sorry that I said I loved you last night. I was tired, must not have been thinking straight, right? Cause there's no way I could really know, young and stupid Sam, right?"

"Now you are being a jerk." He's turning everything she said around, and it's not fair.

"Sorry." He heads towards the door. "I guess I'm just at a difficult age."

XxXxX

Usually, she walks Alec up to his classroom and goes inside to pick him up at the end of the day, too. But this week she stays in the car. If her son finds the difference significant, he doesn't comment, for which she's grateful.

Sam called the day after leaving her apartment.

"I'm sorry," he'd said. "I hated that, fighting with you."

"I did, too." But it's a good thing, she told him, cathartic, something they needed to get out. You can't be happy and sunny and smiling all the time, every second. Sam said he preferred it that way.

"Can I take you out tonight? Stacy can stay with Alec."

She'd turned him down. "I think we need to stick with the plan, have a little time apart."

"That was your plan."

But he hadn't fought her. Quinn told herself that she was going to use this time to refocus and concentrate on herself and on Alec. It was almost scary, how much she'd come to depend on Sam showing up at her house every day, seeing him in the mornings when she dropped off Alec, in the afternoons when she picked him up. This would be a good week, and they'd be better for it, afterwards.

Now, she's back at the advertising agency; they'd called and asked her for a second interview. Quinn just hoped that they weren't stringing her along. She's wary of letting herself think that it might be possible, because the disappointment will only sting that much more if it's not, but getting this job would be amazing. A win.

She answers what she hopes is their final question, because she's running out of trite phrases about her sincere love of digital advertising. By this point they've interviewed her, over the course of two separate days, for about five hours in total. They ought to know her pretty well by now.

The committee thanks her for her time, tells her what a pleasure it's been getting to know her. Quinn figures that after the polite, meaningless little phrases they'll probably bid her good day and then repeat the process with the other applicants.

But then the chair of the committee invites her back to his office.

"We wanted to meet with you one more time before extending our offer."

For a moment she doesn't understand, but then, duh, it becomes obvious.

Truthfully, she hadn't expected it. She's a thirty-nine year old female; jobs like these don't go to people like her, irrespective of her degrees, years of experience, and skills. They go to kids just out of college, young people who are fresh and edgy.

But maybe she should start expecting to get the things she wants. Shaking the man's hand, trying to sound appreciative but not too appreciate, she does deserve this, after all. Quinn starts to think that expecting to get what she wants might be a decent idea for once. It's an interesting change of worldview, and it happens over the course of a conversation. She ought to be paying more attention - they are talking about her salary, after all.

She gets back in her car with a job offer, a start date, and a new outlook. If I want something, there's no reason why I shouldn't have it. It's amazing how quickly there turnarounds happen.

XxXxX

The next day she goes up to Alec's classroom to pick him up, the first time in nearly a week that she hasn't waited in the car for him to come outside. But their break is effectively over, if he wants it to be.

Quinn had thought about that, after the fact. She'd instigated the break, and Sam had argued, but what if he found that he liked it? What if he woke up and realized that he was free to go out to parties and date beautiful young women? She'd asked him that once, about a month ago.

"Why aren't you out partying, dating some supermodel?"

They'd been sitting on the couch, watching the new Power Rangers movie, a truly perfect example of how not to make a movie. The real mystery was why they were still watching it, when Alec had fallen asleep fifteen minutes ago.

"Uh, cause I'd rather be on this couch, watching Power Rangers with some supermodel?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, remembering his answer, but she smiled, too. It hasn't even been a full week, and she's really missed him.

Sam matched her smile when he saw her walk into his classroom. There are four other parents milling about, collecting their kids, asking the teacher how everything's going. He obviously can't dump everything else and rush over to her, but Quinn sees him stealing glances. She gets Alec to tell her about his day while they wait for everyone else to leave.

"Hey." Finally, they're alone. Well, her son's with them, but he's already pulled his book from his backpack. So for all intents and purposes, they're alone.

"Hi," she answers, thankful that at last they could talk. This isn't the place to have a real conversation about anything important, but she can't wait. She's been holding it in too long, even though it's only been a matter of hours. It had been a struggle not to call him immediately after finding out. But she'd made herself wait.

"I've missed you." He slid his arm around her waist.

"I've missed you, too." She had, so much.

"So, us being apart didn't make you realize that you could live without me?"

He's joking, she knows. But she doesn't feel like joining in.

"I've got some news," Quinn said instead. "I just found out."

"Oh, yeah? Is it good news?"

She's spent all day asking herself that very question.

"I'm pregnant."

To be continued . . .

Dum, dum, dum. When all else fails, knock 'em up. No, seriously, that's been in the plan since the beginning.

So sorry that it's taken such a long time to get this chapter to you. Of late, we've been moving into our new house, which is a colossal venture, by the way. And my two year old son has had a cold, so my attention has been elsewhere.

But, I hope you liked this chapter! Don't be afraid to leave reviews!