She looked like hell. Her eyes were red, her cheeks puffy. So much for having a sink and a bunch of paper towels to undo the damage of all her crying.
But Quinn had just said he loved her. Not just to her but in front of those two ladies giggling and gossiping and augmenting their make-up at the mirror. If the taller one added any more mascara to her lashes, her eyelids might fall off from the weight.
The shorter one smiled at Maeve. “He’s hot,” she said. “If you don’t want him, we do.”
I want him, Maeve thought. She reminded herself that he hadn’t come to her shop, that he’d made love to her last night and then romped off to be a football star with his old girlfriend. Today had been a big day for her, too. He’d told her he would come, and he hadn’t.
She hadn’t gone to his big day, either. Maybe he was as hurt as she was. Not that she could have gone, not that she could have left her store for a minute, let alone for the hours a football game would have taken.
Football meant nothing to her. It had been so important to him, and she’d dismissed it. The thing that had defined his life ten years ago was as relevant to her as a mirror to a blind person.
Yet despite that, he’d just said he loved her.
She pushed past the ladies and stumbled out into the alcove.
Into Quinn’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, just as he said, “I’m sorry.”
“Wait.” He pulled back. “What are you sorry for?”
“Today was your big day, and all I could think about was that you left this morning, and I didn’t hear from you again. You just vanished. And it was all about me. I was so busy being hurt—”
“Whoa. It’s okay.” He ran his hands over her hair, smoothing it, twining his fingers through the long, straight locks. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I really wanted to come to your store.”
“You had more important things to do.”
“Nothing was so important that you should have wound up hurt.”
“I should have been understanding. I know you’re a superstar, people here worship you and—”
“I don’t want their worship,” he said.
She leaned back and peered up at him. His beautiful blue eyes were shadowed with worry. “What do you want?” she asked.
“You. Your honesty. Your cookies. Your…I don’t know, your down-to-earthness. Is that a word?”
“I don’t think so.” She smiled, even though she realized tears were coursing down her cheeks again. Surely her tear ducts should have dried up by now.
He used his thumbs to wipe her tears. “I’ve made you cry.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’ve made myself cry. I’m used to people disappearing on me, Quinn. My mother did. My father did. I guess I just assumed you did, too.”
“I’m here.” He bowed and kissed her brow. “I’ll never disappear from you, Maeve. How can I disappear? When I’m with you…” He brushed her forehead with a kiss. “This is home. You’re my home.”
She leaned into him, savoring the strength of his arms around her. “Did you mean that—what you said before?”
“About wanting your cookies? Yes.”
“The other thing.”
“That I love you?” He kissed her again, this time a light kiss on her lips. “Yeah. I meant that.”
“I love you, too.”
“Then we’re both home,” he said, his arms strong and secure around her.
She sank against him, knowing that the tears dampening her cheeks now were happy tears. She was home. Quinn’s embrace was home.
She held him close, treasuring this feeling of security, of safety, of belonging. Thank you, Harry, she thought with a contented sigh. Thank you for bringing me home.
***
The Inheritance Series is a collection of individual novels linked by the will of Harold Hopewell. Billionaire Harold Hopewell traveled the world, encountering people and letting their stories touch him. In death, he is giving back, leaving an unusual will filled with life-altering bequests to the people he met along the way. Read The Inheritance Series, and let their stories touch you.
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