| |
There had been times when Quinn had stepped back from an unfinished painting and wanted to rip the canvas from the frame and burn it. That’s how the first group sessions had been. But determination won out, and she kept adding brush strokes until she had something she could call art. She hadn’t thrown it away, hadn’t given up.
Hadn’t let the abyss take her.
Maybe it was Nick lifting her out. Maybe it was Brendan’s lingering voice prodding her to smile, whispering life would get better. Either way, the sky was within view, and she wanted to reach the top.
So she attended counseling group week after week and never found a reason to skip. Not even Mrs. LaRue’s matchmaking ways could keep her away.
She and Nick had attempted the symphony again with great success, so next on the list of healing adventures was dinner out with him, Claire, and her husband, Dillon. Dinner with Mrs. LaRue might be less embarrassing than letting Claire meet Nick. But Claire had waited long enough. A couple weeks early, but it was time for a thanksgiving.
Miracle upon miracle, Claire had behaved herself in the restaurant. But when Nick went to get the truck, the real Claire Quinn knew and loved exploded. “Oh... my. Quinn! He is a looker! You were so right about his hair.”
Dillon, his sandy-blond hair shining in the restaurant’s lights, raised both hands, taking on a look of offense. “I’m right here.”
“And I’m so glad you are.” Her flamboyant orange skirt and bleach-blond hair twirled around Claire as she planted a kiss on his lips, leaving him smiling again.
Quinn watched his arms go around Claire. His hands gripped her multicolored fall sweater, and they shared a look that could’ve melted a glacier. Yep. Third wheel.
She hurried to meet Nick as he pulled up, reached across the console, and opened the front passenger door for her. She climbed in while Claire and Dillon piled in the back seats, Claire feigning perfect behavior again as Nick drove them to Quinn’s place for dessert without the restaurant chatter.
Inside, she let Nick take her brown leather jacket and hang it next to his blazer in the entry closet—right next to Brendan’s. He pushed the sleeves up on his dark-blue sweater, gave her a wink, and led Dillon to the dining room, both boys holding their guts like they couldn’t eat anymore. They’d think twice when she served them Mom’s famous strawberry cheesecake.
Quinn padded off to the kitchen, Claire at her heels. “He opens your doors, hangs up your jacket.”
Quinn bristled. Here was the real Claire again. The one she was used to. And... the one life wouldn’t be the same without. She dumped her purse on a barstool and kicked off her cream heels. “His parents raised him to be polite. What’s wrong with that?”
As Claire started the coffeepot Quinn had prepped earlier, Claire didn’t speak, but her eyes said enough.
“You know it’s not like that.” It couldn’t be like that. Wouldn’t be like that. Quinn ducked her head in the fridge for their homemade cheesecake, letting the chill air cool her heated cheeks.
“Well, he winked at you at least a dozen times through dinner.”
Quinn backed out of the fridge and nudged the stainless-steel door closed with her hip. “He winks, Claire. It’s just who he is.” She nodded toward the cabinet as she set their dessert on the granite island. “Grab the plates and silverware, will you?”
After plating a good-sized helping for the guys, Quinn started to slice two smaller pieces for her and Claire.
“Oh, I want a big piece.”
Quinn stilled her knife. “You? Miss I Can’t Eat That?”
“Well, it is Thanksgiving.”
“Sounds like a good excuse to me.” Quinn sliced two more large slices, the strawberries oozing down the sides. Dad would be proud.
The guys laughed at something, and Claire’s brow quirked. “Dillon likes him. I like him. And he definitely likes you.”
“Claire.”
Claire wilted with a groan, her blond curls falling around her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I get carried away sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Okay, most times.”
Quinn twitched her mouth to the side. “Sorry too. I guess I’m still...”
“Skittish?”
“I was going to say mourning.” Quinn sighed. “But skittish works too.”
They giggled and shared a hug. Skittish didn’t work. Skittish would suggest she was open to a relationship, which she wasn’t.
Obstinate. That was the word. With a capital O.
“C’mon.” Claire began loading the desserts on a tray. “If we leave them alone too long, we’ll never get the conversation away from sports.”
Refocused on playing hostess for the first time in forever, Quinn grabbed mugs out of the cabinet, filled them with steamy fresh brew, and added them to the tray. Then they headed to the dining room.
They were met with huge eyes and comments on how gigantic the slices were.
“Hey,” Quinn said as she passed around plates of yummy goodness. “This cheesecake won first place at the Tulsa State Fair. You can’t eat a small slice.”
“All right.” Nick glanced at Dillon and sighed heavily. “You with me, man?”
Dillon rubbed his gut. “Let’s do this.”
After everyone settled in and the conversation waned away from the upcoming Cowboys vs. Steelers game, with Dillon receiving an invitation to join Nick and Josh in front of the big screen, Claire clinked her fork on her water glass. She smiled at Dillon, and he beamed as she took his hand. “We have some news we didn’t want to share at the restaurant.”
Quinn’s good mood melted. She swallowed hard but held her grin. Claire dipped her head and tucked a curl behind her ear. Only a few things could make the drama queen nervous. Fixing her up with Nick wasn’t one of them, but this... Her heart aching with what she suspected was coming, Quinn reached across the table to take Claire’s other hand.
Claire’s smile stretched out, and she hardly contained her bounce. “We’re pregnant.”
No wonder she wanted a big slice of cheesecake. Quinn’s insides came apart, but no way would she douse Claire’s excitement. Quinn circled the table to embrace her dearest friend, her tears a mixture of happy, sad, and in-between. “That’s so great. I’m so excited for you.”
Claire’s arms slid around her, pulling Quinn in and smothering her with Ralph Lauren perfume. “Quinn, you’re my best friend, my sister. I want you to be a part of this baby’s life.”
When she pulled away, a tear sat on Claire’s cheek. Somehow, Quinn knew that one tear bore all the worry Claire locked inside since Brendan’s death. She’d been strong for Quinn—held the rope she dangled from. That one tear begged her best friend to come back. And that tear somehow gave Quinn the strength to pull herself over the edge of her pit. It was time to stop being supported and support. “Of course I will be.” She winked at Nick. “She can call me Auntie Q.”
Claire squeezed her eyes shut, letting all the tears fall, and held Quinn tight. Nick offered Dillon his congratulations, shaking his hand across the table, and Dillon served another round of cheesecake to celebrate.
Once they reached their maximum fill, Quinn and Claire sent the boys out to the back porch while they loaded dishes into the dishwasher.
“May will be here in no time.” Claire handed her a plate. “You’ll help me shop, won’t you?”
“Absolutely, I will.” Quinn took the dish and nested it in the lower rack. “We’ll need lots of pink for that baby girl.”
“Or blue.”
Claire hip-bumped Quinn, and Quinn hip-bumped her back.
“Are you going to find out?”
“Oh yeah. You know I don’t like gender-neutral green.”
The dishes done, they leaned back against the sink and watched the guys through the window. They were getting along well. Nick fit right in with her friends. Scary, but wonderful at the same time. What did all his winks mean?
“So...” Claire nudged Quinn with her shoulder.
“What?” Quinn rolled her eyes. “Don’t go there, Claire.”
“I was just going to say he’s nice.”
“Yes, he is nice. He always knows what I need to hear—what I can handle, what I can’t.”
“I’m glad you have a friend like him.”
Quinn latched on to Claire’s arm. “You’ve been a good friend too, a great friend, and I’ve shut you out a bit—a lot. I appreciate you never giving up on me.”
“Giving up was never an option.”
They leaned their heads together and giggled. Like high school all over again. Maybe it was time for a sleepover—hair, nails, the works. “I am happy for you and Dillon.”
“Thank you.” Claire took a breath. “Okay, I’m only going to say this once. Then I’ll leave it alone.”
“We’re going there, aren’t we?”
“Just this once. And only because I love you.” Claire nodded toward the back porch. “Would it be so bad?”
Quinn’s heart shuddered at the thought of another man in her life. “Probably not. Nick’s pretty great. But I...” Quinn moved over to the island, her back against it so her face wasn’t visible from the back porch. Or maybe so she couldn’t see Nick. “I can’t, Claire.”
“Making you happy was Brendan’s greatest joy. He lived to see a smile on your face.”
“He died trying to put a smile on my face.” Her shoulders slumped as all the guilt resurfaced. “Is it my fault? Did he die because of me?”
“No. Quinn, no.” Claire took hold of her hands, her eyes glistening. “If Brendan had known he only had minutes left, he’d still have spent those last minutes trying to make you smile. One would’ve thought it was his one purpose in life.”
Purpose.
A ragged breath shuddered through Quinn, releasing the thought she hadn’t dared think. “You think... Brendan would be happy if I dated Nick.”
“Brendan would be happy... if you let go and took that step forward.”
“But everyone just dies.”
“Not everyone.”
Quinn searched Claire’s eyes wanting to believe her, her mouth wanting to frown.
Claire rubbed Quinn’s arms. “Brendan would want you to be happy, to live whatever life you have left to its fullest, even if it’s only a few minutes.”
She knew that. Still... She bit her bottom lip. “I just can’t.”
Claire nodded, sniffed, and blinked her tears dry. “Okay. That was my once. I’ll be here no matter what you decide.” She lifted her chin toward the porch. “But he is so cute.”
“Claire.”
With a smirk, she threw up her hands. “I’m gathering my husband. I’m going home.”
Quinn loved Claire for trying. She loved Claire for knowing Brendan so well. But Claire didn’t understand. And hopefully, she never would. Hopefully, they’d never feel the pain that haunted Quinn.
She’d promised herself she’d never love again. But Claire was pregnant. She couldn’t keep from loving her best friend’s—her sister’s—child.
She couldn’t fear the consequences. She had to be the supportive friend Claire had been to her. Love or loss.
