“I have to go away.”
Quinn watched Meghan’s face go white and mentally cursed his clumsy intro. Truth was, he was a little nervous. “I don’t mean—just for the weekend, that’s all.”
“Oh.” Her expression cleared but she still looked a little wary. “Where? Back to New York?”
“Yes.” Quinn jammed his hands in the pocket of his jeans and gazed around the hotel’s empty living room with its fresh floorboards and stripped walls. It looked clean and empty, a place, perhaps, of promise. “It’s my mother’s seventieth birthday, and we’re having a family dinner.”
“Oh. Right.”
“And actually...” He took a deep breath, amazed at how nervous he was. What was he, twelve? “I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”
Meghan’s eyes widened. “To—”
“New York. Yes. For the weekend.” She was still staring at him, and so he continued, practically tripping over the words, “Think five star hotel, strawberries dipped in chocolate, and a bathtub of champagne.”
She let out an uncertain laugh. “Wow. Okay.”
“I know there’s Polly to think of,” he continued quickly. “But I thought maybe, if you prepared her enough, she could stay with Janet for the weekend. Because you can’t be there twenty-four seven forever, no matter what happens this weekend.”
“I know.”
Her quick agreement took him by surprise. “So...”
“New York City.” She let out another uncertain laugh. “I’ve never actually been there.”
“So now’s your chance. Penthouse of the Waldorf Astoria all the way.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“You are one tempting offer, Quinn Freeman.”
He gave her one of his old, cocky grins. “That I am.”
She let out a shaky breath and ran her hand through her hair, leaving it adorably tousled. “I want to say yes. Just... let me think about it first.”
“Okay,” Quinn answered lightly, as if it didn’t matter so much, as if he wasn’t practically sweating through his shirt. “It’s only Monday.”
“Right.” Meghan stared at him for a moment, smiling uncertainly, and Quinn felt as if he’d just taken their relationship to a whole new level. It wasn’t a bad thing, but... whoa.
“Okay,” Meghan said at last. “I should finish the patch upstairs.”
“Okay.” Quinn nodded vaguely towards the entire hotel. “I should... work.”
“Right.” She gave him a quick, playful smile and then headed upstairs. Quinn glanced around the empty room and expelled a shaky breath.
“He asked you to go to New York with him? To meet his family?” Hannah stared at Meghan, her jaw well and truly dropped. “You said yes, I hope?”
“I said... probably.” Meghan leaned her head against the sofa in the Taylors’ kitchen and cradled the cup of tea Hannah had just handed her. She’d come over here in her lunch break, needing her friend’s advice and perspective.
“Probably? Why probably?”
“Because I need to make sure I have Polly taken care of. And... because it feels like a big deal.” Meghan blew out a breath. “I mean, dinner with the Freemans.”
“I know. Wow. You’ll need a new dress.”
“I feel like I need new everything. Do you know what the state of my underwear drawer is?”
Hannah’s eyes danced as she took a sip of tea. “Surely Quinn’s seen your underwear.”
“Yes, but it feels different now. I mean, a fling in Creighton Falls versus a weekend with his family in the city, and staying in the penthouse suite of the Waldorf Astoria?” Meghan shook her head. “I feel so... gauche. So unprepared.”
“But Quinn likes you as you are,” Hannah reminded her. “Maybe even loves you—”
“We haven’t said that to each other.”
Hannah raised her eyebrows. “Yet?”
“I... I don’t know.” She hadn’t let herself think about loving Quinn, whether she loved him or he loved her. But now, with this invitation, she felt as if he’d given their relationship—and they’d barely begun using that word—a whole new status. It was exciting and terrifying all at once, and she was filled with both hope and fear as to whether this could actually work. Quinn Freeman inhabited a whole different world than she did. Creighton Falls was a detour for him, an aberration. It was her reality.
“Don’t overthink it,” Hannah advised. “Really, Meghan. Just... go with it. And see what happens.”
“Easy advice from the happily married woman,” Meghan answered with a sigh. “You’ve reached the other side. This is scary stuff, Hannah.”
Hannah’s face softened. “Are you afraid of getting hurt?”
“Isn’t everybody?” Meghan retorted. “Sometimes relationships feel like death wishes. Do they ever end well?”
“You’ve had one bad experience—”
“I’ve had a lot of experience of people walking away,” Meghan returned flatly, staring into the depths of her tea to hide the bleakness she could feel on her face. “Just about everyone who mattered to me at one point. I know that doesn’t mean everyone will, and I realize I need to take a risk to make a relationship work and be happy. I am that emotionally aware, thank you very much.”
“Then what’s keeping you from giving Quinn an unequivocal yes?”
Meghan sighed. “Fear is a powerful thing.”
Hannah nodded soberly. “Yes,” she agreed. “It is.”
And so Meghan adopted an entirely unreasonable process for decision making. She set herself tests—if Janet could take Polly, if Polly was excited about the idea, if there was a sale on lingerie...
The odds were definitely in her favor. Janet was thrilled, Polly was excited, and Victoria’s Secret had a fifty percent off clearance sale. She was either doomed or blessed.
On Wednesday she told Quinn she could go. She’d come to the hotel in the late afternoon to finish up some repair work, and Quinn was sanding floorboards in the living room. Meghan stood in the doorway, uneasy and nervous and yet also bubbling with excitement.
“So... that New York thing.”
Quinn stilled. “Yeah?”
“I can go. That is, if you still—”
“Of course I still.” He strode toward her, pulling her into his arm for a quick yet thorough kiss. “I absolutely still. When can you leave?”
“Anytime on Friday. Janet will meet Polly after work.”
“Perfect. Let’s leave in the morning, and then we’ll have the rest of the day together. The dinner’s not till Saturday.”
“Okay.”
He kissed her again, fast and fierce and wonderful, and then let her go.
Friday couldn’t come soon enough, and yet it also came too soon. Meghan couldn’t quite believe how nervous she was. This was Quinn, after all. They’d had some fantastic sex and some fairly intense conversations and she knew him. Maybe she was even falling in love with him. But she was still nervous.
Over the last few days she’d started to daydream, just a little. She pictured Quinn staying in Creighton Falls, reopening the hotel or even just bartending somewhere. Something to make him stay put. She pictured them together in her little ranch house, or even in a bigger house they’d buy together. She even pictured the wedding ring, the dress.
Then she put a stop to those fantasies because she knew they were dangerous. And like Hannah said, she didn’t want to overthink this. Even if she already had.
Friday morning was bright and warm, the sunshine sparkling on the river, the buds starting to come out on the trees. Sam was seriously annoyed because the maple syrup season had been so short, but Meghan was grateful for the unseasonably warm weather. She’d bought a cocktail dress from the department store in Watertown and it was skimpy and sleeveless.
Quinn picked her up in his old mud-splattered truck, throwing her bag in the back. “Hop in,” he said, and Meghan did.
“Are you going to drive this all the way into Manhattan?”
“Nope, just to Watertown where my Beamer’s parked.”
She laughed. “Seriously?”
“I have a certain standard to maintain,” Quinn informed her with a grin. “Showing up to my mother’s townhouse on Fifth Avenue in this truck would not cut it.”
“Of course not.” And what about her truck? What about her? She pushed her fears down, determined to enjoy the day.
And it was, in the end, remarkably easy to enjoy the day. Cruising down 81 in Quinn’s Beamer, the windows down, her hair blowing in the wind, his arm around her shoulders... well, it didn’t really get better than that, did it?
Except it did. They arrived in New York and after tossing the keys to the hotel’s valet, Quinn whisked her up to the penthouse suite of the Waldorf Astoria, which was bigger than her entire house. By a lot.
Meghan walked slowly through the elegant rooms, marveling at the antiques and amenities, before Quinn tugged her back to the bedroom.
“But I want to see New York...”
“We’ve got time,” he assured her, pulling her onto the bed, and she had to agree that they did.
A very satisfactory hour later, they hit the streets of New York, with Quinn as excited as a little boy, tugging her this way and that, taking her to the Top of the Rock, and then up to Central Park, and then to Pinkberry for frozen yogurt, and then in a taxi to downtown where they looked at Ground Zero and Wall Street, until the sky darkened and Meghan’s feet ached and he told her they had to go back to get ready for dinner.
“Dinner? Where?”
“21.”
Meghan gulped. “This feels like a fairy tale,” she told Quinn. And fairy tales weren’t real.
“Then enjoy it,” he said. “You deserve a fairy tale, Meghan.”
Back at the hotel she soaked in the sunken marble tub until her fingers and toes were as shriveled as prunes, and then slipped on the cranberry-red silk sheath she’d bought and now didn’t look nearly as classy as it had when she’d tried it on in Watertown. She tried to pull her hair up in a sophisticated chignon but it didn’t really work and so she left it down, reminding herself that Quinn liked her as she was. Thankfully.
“Meghan?” Quinn’s voice floated from the suite’s living room. “Not to rush, but our reservation is in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m ready.” Meghan slipped her feet into the black stiletto heels that had been part of her Upstate shopping spree—along with some sexy underwear—and drawing a deep breath, opened the bedroom door.
Quinn was waiting in the living room, gazing out the windows at the darkening city skyline, and the sight of him left Meghan’s mind spinning and speechless. She’d seen him only in his Creighton Falls clothes: flannel shirts, hiking boots, jeans. Tonight he was wearing a crisp white shirt, open at the throat, under a black blazer. Narrow gray suit trousers completed the look, and with his bed-rumpled hair and wicked smile he was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen.
“You look amazing,” he said, his gaze warm on her, his smile still wicked.
“So do you. You look... like you’re supposed to look.”
Quinn cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what that means.”
“Only that this is your world. You’ve been in my world for the last few weeks, and now I’m in yours.”
“This is only part of my world,” he said as he reached for her hands, drawing her toward him. “How do you like it so far?” he murmured against her lips.
It scares me. “I like it just fine,” Meghan said, and Quinn kissed her.
They took a cab to the restaurant, and a white-jacketed maître-de ushered them to a private table in the upstairs mural-lined dining room.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Quinn told her. “There are four courses, and it’s an insult to the chef to skip one.”
“Of course it is,” Meghan murmured. The menu left her dazed: assorted caviars, foie gras terrine, octopus carpaccio. She was barely aware that such things existed. “Would you hate me if I asked if they had a cheeseburger?” she half-teased and Quinn grinned.
“I dare you.”
“Actually, I don’t think I could. But I’m not too keen on octopus.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“No, have you?”
“Yeah, once or twice.” He smiled, lounging back in his chair. “You’re not missing much.”
“Do you miss travelling?” Meghan asked impulsively. “Going places, eating strange food, all the adventures... I’ve never even known what that was like.”
“It’s been good,” Quinn said slowly as he studied the menu. “But... it’s not something you can do forever.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers and for a moment neither of them said anything. Meghan let the silence stretch on, not daring to ask him what he could do forever—or who with. Quinn might think she deserved the fairy tale, but this was only for the weekend.
They kept the conversation light after that, chatting easily, enjoying the food, all four courses of it, at least mostly. Meghan decided she wasn’t fond of foie gras but the filet mignon she could eat every night.
It was late by the time they finished the New York cheesecake and chocolate soufflé, followed by petit fours and coffee, and finally cognac. As they headed out into the night, cabs streaming by on Fifth Avenue, Meghan felt relaxed, a little woozy, and very happy.
Quinn took her hand as they walked down the street, enjoying the evening, the air surprisingly fresh for the city, the moon high above them. Meghan felt as if she could burst into song or start dancing down the street.
“I can’t remember the last time I felt so free,” she said as she turned to Quinn.
“You needed a break.”
“Yes, I really think I did.” But she didn’t want this to be a break. Take away the trappings—the city, the glamor, the food and the hotel, fine. But don’t take away Quinn.
She took a deep breath, reminding herself not to overthink any of this, and kept walking.
They spent the next morning in bed, preferring to explore each other rather than the sights of Manhattan.
Quinn ordered room service for a late breakfast and they ate in bed, leisurely, laughing, reveling in each other in a way that felt entirely new to Meghan. This wasn’t grabbing a moment of pleasure; this was reveling in a lifetime of it. Or so she was starting to hope.
“So this family dinner,” Meghan asked when they’d finally rolled out of bed, showered together, and then dressed. “Is it fancy?”
“Do you really think my mother does anything else?” Quinn answered on a laugh. “But don’t worry. It shouldn’t take too long, and we still have all tomorrow.”
“I’m not worried,” Meghan answered, even though she was. “But I should be back in Creighton Falls by the late afternoon. I want some time with Polly before bed.”
“Of course.”
His easy acceptance of the constraints on her life made her feel a rush of emotion, something she was starting to think might just be love. Funny, how such a big thing could sneak up on you. Make you realize how much you’d missed it before. Maybe she’d drum up the nerve to tell him how she felt. Maybe, if she passed the family test tonight, she would.
They spent the afternoon wandering through the Union Square farmers’ market and then walking back uptown through Gramercy Park before finally heading back to the penthouse.
Quinn checked his watch with a regretful face. “I should get ready for this dinner.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Quinn disappeared into the shower and Meghan took her things to the second bedroom’s ensuite bathroom. She wanted to surprise Quinn with how she looked—the black cocktail dress was deceptively simple and understated, and also the most expensive thing she owned. And tonight she’d get the chignon thing right.
She soaked in the tub, humming to herself, trying to quell the nerves squirming in her stomach, before she dressed and then did her makeup and hair. It took three tries to get the chignon to stay put, but she liked the results. She looked elegant, her cheekbones and eyes more pronounced.
She was just putting the finishing touches on her makeup when Quinn knocked on the door.
“Meghan?”
“I’ll be right out—”
“Good, I want to give you a kiss before I go.”
Meghan stilled, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “Before you go,” she repeated, not quite making it a question.
“I’ll cab it up to my mother’s apartment. I shouldn’t be back too late—maybe ten? Wait up for me,” he finished with a husky laugh. “Now are you coming out or not?”
Slowly Meghan lowered the lipstick she’d been holding. In the mirror her face looked pale and strained, her eyes huge and dark.
“Meghan?” Quinn asked again, and now he sounded concerned.
“Sorry, I’m in the tub,” Meghan called. “I... I didn’t realize how late it was. You’re going to have to miss out on that kiss.”
“Pay me back later?”
“Sure.”
She heard him walk away, and then the sound of the door to the suite clicking shut. She closed her eyes, a wash of humiliation and pain washing over her with a force that nearly sent her to her knees.
She’d read it so wrong. How much wrong she didn’t even know. All of it? The relationship? The intensity? The love?
Quinn had never been intending to introduce her to his family. He wasn’t making her part of his life. He’d just brought her to New York as his bit on the side while he attended some boring family event.
This, Meghan thought dully, opening her eyes to stare at her haggard reflection, was where the fairy tale ended.