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Nick was done for the day, and he’d ceased to care. Lounging at his computer, his white dress shirt rolled to the elbow and his shoes kicked off, he scrolled through his emails one last time and shut it down.
Elbows braced on his already cleared desk, he checked the weather out the window. The rain had stopped, but it still looked cold.
Three months had passed since Quinn shared the tragic loss of her daughter. Since he’d tucked her against his chest, held her in his arms.
He’d intended to put some distance between them, to protect her from himself. But the next day, at “our” bench, she’d seen the beauty in the clouds, and friends needed friends to celebrate those milestones on the healing journey.
And he was hers.
In more ways than one. In ways he couldn’t tell her.
But he’d rather be friends with Quinn for the rest of his days than not be with her at all.
Sure.
God, give me strength to believe that.
With his fingertips, he rubbed his tired eyes.
They’d spent the holidays apart, not attending each other’s events. Quinn went to visit Brendan’s parents, he to Lauren’s—two occasions resulting in many calls and texts between them.
Despite enjoying time with her parents, in a house where her pictures still smiled on the walls, he’d just wanted to be home with Quinn.
Home and Quinn. Would the two ever be brought together?
His gaze flicked to the three boxes of chocolates that clients had brought in lying on the corner of his desk.
Don’t even think about it, Nick.
There’d been some near misses—a brush of hands when his instinct was to reach for hers, glances that could’ve had deeper meaning if he’d looked longer. Once, he’d wanted to kiss her. Well, maybe more than once.
And of course, Mrs. LaRue was always trying to pin them together. Quinn handled her so well. One could almost say they were becoming friends. Almost.
He and Quinn had gone out with friends, he’d spent time at her house, she at his. They’d gone out together, spent days apart, but always stayed connected.
But today was not the day to see her.
Red and pink hearts were everywhere, the paper, flyers, TV, the downtown shop windows, and especially Dave’s floral shop, who’d provided flowers for his wedding, Lauren’s funeral, and everything in between.
Nick had already suffered through his first without Lauren, but this was Quinn’s first without Brendan. She’d feel it. She’d hate it. He hated it for her.
He’d sent texts and called her at lunch to check in. She seemed to be okay, but he’d always seemed okay too.
“’Night, Nick.” His colleague’s call from the front office startled him.
“Yeah, see ya.” He began unrolling his sleeves and buttoning the cuffs while he slid his shoes back on.
“Hey. You’re supposed to get dressed before you come to work.” Dad propped himself on the doorframe, his collar loose after the long day.
“I see you’ve lost your tie.”
“Got plans for this evening?”
Dad was good at changing the subject. Never lingering on himself.
Nick sniffed. “I’m headed home. This day’s had all of me I care to give.”
Dad nodded toward the boxes of chocolates. “Don’t eat all those at once. They’ll sour your stomach or ruin your dinner or some such your mother used to say. You should share them. With a friend.”
Well, that was subtle. Nick glanced sideways at him while securing the last button. “You mean Quinn.”
“She’s the one I’d pick.” Dad winked, his hairline receding at the temples doing nothing to make him look less distinguished. So what was he doing alone on Valentine’s Day?
Nick grabbed his suit coat off the rack and shrugged it on. As he adjusted his sleeves, he took a breath to speak, but then shunted his question away and reached for his overcoat.
“What is it?”
He threw his coat over his arm and his hand in his pocket. “Why did you never remarry?”
A sadness glazed Dad’s eyes before he blinked it away. “You were nine when your mother died. I threw all my effort into raising you and your sister.”
“We’ve been out of the house for ten years. You’re going to have to come up with a better excuse.”
The sadness returning, his head hung for a moment before he spoke. “I haven’t met a woman who compares with your mother. But when I find her, I’m going to marry her. I haven’t given up yet.” He eyed the chocolate boxes, then raised a brow. “Quinn?”
Nick shook his head.
“Not ready?”
“Not even close.”
Dad clapped him on the arm. “Take her some chocolates. Haven’t seen a woman yet that can turn them down.” He backed out into the hall, pointing a finger at Nick. “Don’t stay out too late though. Tomorrow’s another busy day.”
Nick raised his chin with a smirk. He watched his dad disappear down the hall. Then he dragged his gaze to the chocolates. Not a good idea. But neither was leaving her alone.
He picked up the rectangular box—leaving the heart-shaped box behind—and escaped the office. Quinn was going to her parents’ house for dinner, but she’d mentioned she wouldn’t stay long. He’d go for a short workout, grab a bite to eat, and head over to her place.
God, let this be the right decision.
Donning his overcoat, he headed to the elevators. Valentine’s Day had to be the worst day of the entire year.
It was Tuesday. And it was Valentine’s Day. Quinn went to her parents for a quick bite to eat, but she didn’t stay long. There were none of her mother’s heart-shaped cookies, no flowers sent from her doting father to the woman he loved. At least, none on display.
The day didn’t exist this year. Not in their house and not in hers.
She’d just gotten home, opened the mail, and was about to open her bottle of sparkling cider to celebrate the insignificance of the day when someone knocked on her door. Lifting the gray pocket curtain, Quinn peeped through the side window. Nick waved at her with his half grin. Her stress melted into a smile.
He was here, and she didn’t have to pretend to the world anymore.
She unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. “Something told me you wouldn’t be able to stay away from my door tonight.”
His smile said he was guilty. “I got these chocolates from a client. I was hoping you might rescue me from eating the whole box myself.”
She couldn’t lie. She hadn’t had one piece of chocolate all day, and the way she felt, he would have to rescue her from eating the entire box. “Oh, what are friends for? Come in.”
“I was hoping I wouldn’t find you sitting at home alone.”
Once he crossed the threshold, she shut the door against the cold night air. “Where else would I be sitting alone?”
“Fair point.” He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over his arm. “I just wanted to come by and make sure you were okay. I figured the chocolates would give me an in.”
“Oh, the chocolates definitely got you in.” His form-fitting jeans and Winsor blue sweater over finely tuned muscles helped a smidge.
As she slid his coat from his hands, he winked the wink he always winked. “Good thing I brought them along then.”
A flush warmed her cheeks as she pivoted to hang his coat in the entry closet. Was it the wink, her thoughts, or hanging his coat next to Brendan’s? Maybe it was time to move Brendan’s coats to the bedroom closet. Not a thought to have when trying to get through the most romantic day of the year.
“If you’d rather be alone, I can go.”
“No.” She closed the door on the two men’s coats. “I was just going to drink my whole bottle of sparkling cider by myself, go to bed in tears, and hate myself in the morning.” She waved a hand. “Nothing important. I’d rather spend the night with you... the evening... the evening with you. I’d rather spend the evening with you.”
He raised well-trimmed brows that matched his well-trimmed beard. “Are you done?”
She gave a definitive nod. “Quite.”
Before she could say anything else stupid, she snatched the box and headed to the kitchen. She rounded the island and leaned against the long side of the granite. Nick pushed his sleeves up and joined her on the short side.
“Let’s see what we have here.” She flipped the box over to view its contents.
“No, no, no.” He grabbed it from her and set it on the counter. “That’s cheating. It’s the luck of the draw. You eat what you get.”
Her want to snatch the chocolates back ended in a pool of blue eyes. “You’re living on the edge.”
Smiling, he opened the box. “You’re first, Madam Q.”
Quinn picked out her favorite first. She popped the whole thing in her mouth, closed her eyes, and hummed with delight. “Toffee. That’s my favorite one in the whole box. They should put more of those in here.”
She looked up to find him glaring at her.
“What? Pick what you know. It’s a safe bet.”
“You are not living on the edge. C’mon, pick another one.”
“Oh no. It’s your turn.” Challenging him, she pushed the box toward him, already feeling better about her faux pas. He was good at getting them past the all-too-often uncomfortable moments.
“All right.” He bit the corner of his chosen piece. “Caramel. How lucky can I get?”
Her turn to glare. “That was a small bite. If you hadn’t liked it, I’d have made you eat the whole thing.”
“I believe you would.”
“I would.”
“Your turn.” He ate the rest of his piece while sliding the box back over to her.
Without taking her gaze from him, she reached in and drew out the first chocolate she touched. With a bit of attitude, she took a bite, then spit the atrocity out into her other hand.
“No spitting it out. You have to eat it.”
“We should’ve discussed the rules first.”
“What is it?”
With a screwed-up face, she turned the chocolate so he could see the inside. “Raspberry.”
“Hey, don’t dis the raspberry chocolates.”
She held it up to him. “Well, here. You eat it.”
He grasped her wrist and nipped the candy with his mouth. His lips, warm and soft, grazed her fingers, sending a shiver through her. She swallowed as their eyes met, both their smiles fading. After what seemed an eternity, he looked away first, and she blinked the visions from her mind. He let go of her wrist, and she slunk to the sink to throw away the other half of her candy.
“I’m sorry. I promise awkward was not on the agenda for this evening. Maybe the chocolates weren’t such a great idea.”
She returned to the island and touched his arm as he replaced the lid on the box. Glad he dared look at her, she offered a smile. “I’ve been faking it all day. But with you, I don’t have to. Life can be what life is. The chocolates were a great idea. And so was coffee and the symphony—once we got to go—giving you my phone number, the bench at the river. All of it. I wouldn’t give it back to save myself from a few awkward moments.”
He clasped her hand with his. “I would never hurt you, Quinn.”
Saving them from more awkwardness, she slid her hand from his and sauntered to the fridge. “How about a drink? I did buy that bottle of sparkling cider. I saved you from your chocolates. You can save me from my bubbly.”
He laughed to himself. “Seems fair.”
Thrilled to see him smiling again, she extracted the bottle from the fridge and collected two flutes from the cabinet. But she’d have to be careful. Another uncomfy moment, and she might kiss those soft lips. She almost spilled the cider. She did not just think that, did she? More surprising than the thought—she didn’t want to duck and run.
She wanted to be right here. With Nick. Not alone, which was scary.
Quinn poured the fizzy liquid as Nick propped a hip on the island and crossed his arms. “This bubbly won’t make me want to finish off the chocolates and defeat the purpose of coming here, will it?”
She lifted the bottle and underlined the label’s words with her finger. “Nonalcoholic.”
“Well...” He twirled the Russell Stovers around on the granite. “That doesn’t give me an excuse for eating every piece.”
Laughing again, she let the weirdness of the evening wash away, leaving only two friends taking comfort in each other’s company.
Eventually, they flipped off the lights and made it to the bluish-gray couch with their flutes of bubbly and one more chocolate. With shoes kicked off and feet up on the metal-legged coffee table, they flipped through TV channels, watched the news awhile, and skimmed past the old black-and-white shows from the fifties. But Valentine’s Day specials were airing on almost every channel.
They settled on cop show reruns and let them play as they talked and laughed through two glasses of nonbubbly bubbly.
Setting her glass aside, she burrowed deep into the overstuffed cushions. Nick lounged beside her, head on the back of the couch, his well-defined arms crossed over his chest. Eyelids slowly blinking, complete relaxation softened her edges. Not like she’d been when she first met him. She’d been a bristly porcupine. What had changed?
Knocking his shoulder with hers, she couldn’t recover her position, and they remained close. She lolled her head to look up at him. “Thanks for coming over.”
He glanced at her, his lips almost meeting her nose. “I wouldn’t have missed...” Turning back to center, he waved a hand at the TV. “Three back-to-back episodes of NYPD Blues.”
Awkward moment stifled. Snickering, she didn’t bother to straighten away from him. She was comfortable, warm. “The fizz and confections weren’t so bad either.”
“They were perfect.”
Perfect. The night kind of was.
She’d dreaded spending the evening alone. Hadn’t been looking forward to the tears. But her friend had come through.
Their conversation waned, and the TV continued to flash its light into the dark room. It was getting late, but she didn’t care, not even when her eyes closed.
