Updated Apr 19, 2026 • ~10 min read
Chapter 17: Secret Dating
Quinn
Quinn discovers that secretly dating someone in a town of three thousand people where everyone knows everyone’s business is significantly harder than romantic movies make it seem, and she’s currently hiding in her own bakery storage room with Asher pressed against the shelving unit while they kiss like teenagers trying not to get caught by parents, which is ridiculous because they’re both adults in their thirties who should not have to sneak around their own town.
“This is insane,” Quinn mutters against Asher’s mouth, and he pulls back just enough to grin at her.
“Completely insane,” Asher agrees. “We’re hiding in a closet in your own business because Mabel just walked in and we don’t want her to see us kissing.”
“Mabel already knows we’re together,” Quinn points out. “The whole town knows. We’re not fooling anyone.”
“But if Mabel sees us actually kissing, she’ll tell Judy, and Judy will organize some kind of celebration that involves the entire town and probably a banner,” Asher argues. “I’d like to have our relationship be ours for at least a few more weeks before it becomes a public spectacle.”
Quinn understands this logic—has been living by it for the two weeks since their first kiss—but she’s starting to think that sneaking around is more exhausting than just admitting they’re dating and dealing with the town’s inevitable interference.
They’ve been conducting their relationship in stolen moments—late night dates at Quinn’s house after Ruby’s asleep, quick kisses in the bakery when no customers are around, carefully orchestrated “accidental” meetings that are actually planned down to the minute. It’s exciting in that forbidden-romance way, but it’s also exhausting in that constantly-hiding-from-nosy-neighbors way.
“Mabel’s leaving,” Asher reports, checking through a crack in the storage room door. “Coast is clear.”
They emerge from the closet trying to look casual, and Quinn immediately spots flour on Asher’s shoulder from where he was pressed against the storage shelving.
“You have evidence,” Quinn says, brushing off the flour. “Very suspicious for someone who’s supposedly just here to pick up pastries for the fire station.”
“Good thing Mabel already left,” Asher says, pulling Quinn close for one more quick kiss before actually leaving to maintain their cover. “Tonight? Your place? After Ruby’s in bed?”
“Nine-thirty,” Quinn confirms. “I’ll leave the back door unlocked so you don’t have to knock and alert the neighbors.”
“We’re ridiculous,” Asher observes, but he’s smiling.
“Completely ridiculous,” Quinn agrees. “Now go before someone sees you leaving and times how long you were in here.”
Asher leaves with his box of pastries for the station, and Quinn goes back to work trying not to think about how absurd their situation is—two adults sneaking around their own town because they don’t want the community that pushed them together to know they’re actually together.
That evening, Quinn is closing the bakery when Ruby appears at the door with Cole, clearly having convinced her uncle to make a detour on the way home from after-school care.
“Quinn!” Ruby announces, rushing in with her usual enthusiasm. “Can you come for dinner? Daddy’s making spaghetti and he said I could ask you!”
Quinn’s heart does something complicated because she and Asher agreed to keep things low-key and private, which means limiting family dinners until they’re ready to go public, but Ruby’s hopeful expression makes saying no feel impossible.
“I’d love to,” Quinn hears herself say, and Cole grins knowingly because he absolutely understands what’s happening.
“Great!” Ruby says. “Uncle Cole, can Quinn ride with us?”
“Absolutely,” Cole agrees, still grinning at Quinn in a way that suggests he finds their secret dating situation highly entertaining.
Dinner at Asher’s house is comfortable and domestic—Ruby chattering about school, Asher cooking with competence that’s improved significantly since Quinn started giving him informal lessons, the three of them falling into easy conversation that feels natural and right.
But Quinn is hyperaware of maintaining appropriate distance—not sitting too close to Asher, not touching him casually the way she wants to, carefully monitoring every interaction to make sure Ruby doesn’t pick up on the shift in their relationship.
“Why are you sitting so far away?” Ruby asks with six-year-old directness. “You usually sit next to Daddy.”
“Just giving him space to serve dinner,” Quinn improvises, and Asher catches her eye with an expression that clearly says this is exactly why hiding is exhausting.
After dinner, Ruby demands a baking lesson—apparently having decided that evening lessons should become a regular thing—and Quinn teaches her to make simple chocolate chip cookies while Asher watches with that expression he gets when he’s falling more in love and trying not to show it.
When Ruby’s occupied with carefully placing chocolate chips in precise patterns, Asher moves closer to Quinn under the guise of reaching for flour, and his hand brushes hers in a way that’s definitely intentional.
“This is torture,” he mutters quietly enough that Ruby can’t hear. “Having you in my house and not being able to touch you properly.”
“Your daughter is three feet away,” Quinn reminds him, but she’s leaning into his proximity despite the risk.
“She’s focused on cookies,” Asher argues. “We could probably kiss and she wouldn’t notice.”
“We’re not kissing in front of your daughter before we tell her we’re dating,” Quinn says firmly. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“Probably,” Asher agrees, but he doesn’t move away.
Ruby saves them from their own poor impulse control by announcing that the cookies are ready for baking, and they spend the next fifteen minutes carefully maintaining appropriate adult-supervising-child distance while both desperately wanting to be closer.
Later, after Ruby’s in bed and Quinn should absolutely go home to maintain the secret dating charade, she finds herself on Asher’s back porch sharing the leftover cookies and talking in hushed voices like they’re doing something illicit.
“Why are we hiding?” Quinn asks, voicing the question that’s been bothering her for two weeks. “The town already knows we have feelings for each other. They literally conspired to push us together. Why are we pretending we’re not dating?”
“Because if the town knows we’re officially together, they’ll make it a thing,” Asher argues, using the same logic he’s been using since their first kiss.
“It already IS a thing,” Quinn points out. “Ruby draws family portraits including me. I’m at your house four nights a week. We’re clearly together in every way except officially acknowledging it. What exactly are we avoiding by hiding?”
“The town making it a bigger thing,” Asher says. “Judy organizing celebrations. People asking about timelines and marriage and babies. The pressure of everyone having opinions about our relationship.”
Quinn understands this fear—understands wanting to keep something precious and new protected from external interference—but she’s also starting to realize that hiding is creating its own problems.
“But hiding is exhausting,” Quinn says quietly. “Sneaking around, maintaining distance when I want to be close to you, pretending we’re just friends when Ruby’s watching. I feel like I’m lying to everyone, including myself.”
Asher is quiet for a long moment, and Quinn can see him processing this—weighing his desire for privacy against the reality that their secret isn’t really a secret and hiding is making them both miserable.
“You’re right,” he admits finally. “This is exhausting. And probably pointless since the whole town already suspects. But going public feels scary in a different way—making it official, acknowledging to everyone that we’re building this, opening ourselves up to opinions and expectations.”
“Scarier than sneaking around our own town like criminals?” Quinn asks with a slight smile.
“Different scary,” Asher clarifies. “This is scared-of-being-caught scary. Going public is scared-of-expectations scary.”
“I don’t want to hide anymore,” Quinn says honestly. “I want to hold your hand when we walk down Main Street. I want to kiss you without checking if anyone’s watching. I want Ruby to know that you and I are together instead of us pretending to be just friends around her.”
“Ruby’s going to be insufferably smug when she finds out,” Asher predicts. “She’s been dropping hints about ‘grown-ups who love each other’ for weeks. She probably already knows.”
“Kids are perceptive,” Quinn agrees. “And Asher, if we’re building this—building a family, building a future—we can’t do it while hiding. At some point we have to acknowledge what we are to each other.”
“What are we?” Asher asks, and there’s vulnerability in the question. “Officially. If we’re going to tell people.”
Quinn takes his hand, threading their fingers together in the darkness.
“We’re together,” she says simply. “Dating, in a relationship, building something real. We don’t need to define it more specifically than that yet. But we need to stop hiding it.”
“Okay,” Asher agrees, squeezing her hand. “No more hiding. We tell Ruby first—she deserves to know before the rest of the town. And then we just… be ourselves. Together. Publicly.”
“That’s terrifying,” Quinn observes.
“Completely terrifying,” Asher agrees. “But you’re right that hiding is worse. At least if we’re public, we can actually be ourselves instead of constantly monitoring every interaction.”
They sit in comfortable silence for a while, holding hands in the darkness and processing this decision to stop hiding, and Quinn thinks about how much has changed in four months—from climbing Asher’s roof to rescue a cat to sitting on his back porch planning how to tell his daughter they’re dating.
“I should go home,” Quinn says eventually, even though she doesn’t want to. “But Asher? Tomorrow. Let’s tell Ruby tomorrow. And then we stop sneaking around.”
“Tomorrow,” Asher confirms, walking her across the yard to her house and kissing her goodnight on her porch where anyone could see if they were watching.
And Quinn thinks that maybe this—being brave enough to be public about their relationship despite the town’s inevitable interference—is the next step they need to take.
No more hiding.
No more pretending.
Just them, together, building something real.
Even if the entire town is definitely watching and definitely adding this to their matchmaking scoreboard.
That night, Quinn gets a text from Mabel: “Saw Asher leaving your place at 10:30. You two done pretending you’re not dating yet?”
Quinn laughs and types back: “We’re telling Ruby tomorrow. Then it’s official.”
“FINALLY,” Mabel responds. “Judy’s been planning your relationship announcement party for two weeks. Prepare yourself.”
“There’s going to be a party?” Quinn asks with resignation.
“Honey, there’s ALWAYS a party when good things happen in Maplewood. Welcome to small-town life.”
Quinn shows the texts to Asher the next morning when he comes by the bakery, and he groans but smiles.
“Judy’s planning a party,” he says. “Of course she is.”
“At least we’ll be able to actually attend together instead of arriving separately and pretending we’re just friendly neighbors,” Quinn points out.
“Silver lining,” Asher agrees. “Ready to tell Ruby tonight?”
“Terrified but ready,” Quinn confirms.
“Same,” Asher says, and he kisses her right there in the bakery in broad daylight without checking if anyone’s watching.
And Quinn thinks that this—being brave enough to be seen, to be public, to acknowledge what they’re building—feels exactly right.
Even if it’s terrifying.
Especially because it’s terrifying.
Because that’s how you know it matters.
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