Authors: Camden Leigh
“We’ll find out.”
Quinn nods, eyes glazed as if he’s looking through a foggy window and visualizing his son for the first time. “You’ll go with me to meet him?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I mean . . . don’t you want your first time meeting him to be yours and his special time? Besides, I should probably pack.” It hurts to say it aloud. Packing means I’m really leaving. Quinn will stay here and nurture his relationship with his son, and I’ll be somewhere else.
He
shakes his head. “Ours. I want it to be our special time. Plus, I might like watching you kiss his dimples.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Please?”
I nod. “I can do that.”
Sadness dulls Quinn’s eyes, but it’s so momentary, I could be confusing it with the way the shadows land on his face. He pulls me out onto the back porch and glances between the random pulses of firefly lights and me. “You’re leaving anyway, aren’t you?”
“This isn’t my home.”
“But you could stay.” An ache stretches across his forehead and wearies his eyes. “You could choose me.” His lips tighten and he shakes his head. “We can start our own business if you want to do events. I have connections and I know the best places for weddings. Secret gardens. Ruins dating back to the Civil War. And I’m one hell of a photographer.” He begs me to give in. “I can give you more.”
“You have a lot to figure out, Quinn, and—”
“What about painting? And ceramics? We could open a studio.”
Risk nothing, lose nothing. Risk everything, win everything.
Mom’s words bounce around my head. Risk. Is that what this is about?
Quinn’s definitely worth the risk considering he’s someone who doesn’t give me the world, but gives me a boost so I can stand on top of it. Maybe I should risk everything.
I brush away the hair tickling my cheek. My heart flips in my chest making me nauseous. Like I’m hanging upside down on a Ferris wheel after eating way too much fair food. How can I say no to this man? How can I walk away from happiness? Maybe his son is just a test, a hiccup in my life that’s meant to bring Quinn and me closer instead of rip us apart.
I
step out of Quinn’s reach and look out toward the boardwalk leading to Fire Swamp. “Ever since I left home, I’ve been making all my decisions to defy my parents. I can’t seem to let go of proving myself and they aren’t even in my life, which means I’ve been wasting my efforts on ghosts, forgetting about the present. Ignoring everything I already have and everyone right in front of me because I was living for the future, something that hasn’t even happened.” I run my fingers over the screen then turn toward him. “Lilian gets on to me because I think everything should go according to the chart I drew after I left home—a neat little line in a graph that no matter what, always advanced onward and upward. No flaws. No kinks. No hiccups.”
Quinn shakes his head. “But nothing works out that perfectly.”
“It does if you don’t let distractions get in the way.” I smooth his vest and trace the buttons going down the front. “But in walks a blue-eyed, six-foot-plus distraction who saved me from a turkey. That distraction managed to hold my attention and convince me to see potential, not only for him existing in my life, but for me existing in his.”
Quinn flattens his hands over mine.
“I keep telling myself I should leave because I’ll only be a distraction pulling your attention away from someone who needs it more than me.”
“I have plenty of attention to go around.”
“I know, that’s one of the reasons I find you so amazing.” I smile. “If you had given up on me, I would’ve stayed on a straight-line path. I never would’ve found the skip in my heartbeat. I never would’ve strayed from my stupid graph.” I shrug and drop my gaze to his hands over mine. “I never would’ve fallen in love.”
“What are you saying?” He squeezes my fingers and brings my hand to his lips to give it a tender kiss.
“
I guess I’m saying I don’t know where to go when I leave because my heart is here . . . with you.”
He grins. It stretches wider then grows big and toothy. “Never have I ever loved you more.”
I laugh. “False.”
“What?!”
“Are you saying I guessed wrong?” I tease.
“Of course!”
“Guess I should kiss you then.” I push up to my tiptoes and drape my arms over his shoulders. “We’ll figure this out, right?”
“I won’t disappoint you.” His arms ring around my waist and draw me closer.
“And your son?”
“I’ll try my best not to disappoint him either.”
I lean into him and his lips slowly take over mine. Pressing against me like a warm hug. His tongues grazes mine turning the warmth inside me into tingles, and the tingles into a slow burning heat. Like a cozy fire on a winter night. All the parts that make a home are present in his kiss. In him. I pull away slowly, hearing a murmur of voices in the background.
“Please gather near the stage for toasts,” the DJ’s voice echoes through the speakers. A tinkle of silverware against glasses follows.
“Mmmmm,” Quinn pulls me tight and sighs against my neck. “That would be my cue. I had to make something up the other night because I left my cheat sheet in my room.”
“You didn’t do the speech you wrote?”
“
Not yet, but I’m pretty sure I have it memorized now.” He kisses me then threads his fingers through my hand. “Promise me you’ll save me all your dances tonight, okay?”
“I’ll have to check my dance card,” I tease.
We walk hand in hand off the porch, around the house and through the crowd. I feel eyes on us the entire way. Three days ago I might have dropped my chin and wanted to be the fly on the wall Mrs. Covington asked me to be, four weeks ago, I would never have imagined me walking hand in hand with anyone, but today, I can’t imagine my hand, my heart, or my soul not grasping Quinn’s hand, heart, and soul.
Quinn leaves me standing next to Kat and Wes to take the stage. He rolls his sleeves to his elbows. Ellie and Dean move front and center. I pass them each a crystal champagne flute in the exact shade of indigo selected during our very first meeting together. I clink glasses with her and give her a hug.
“Good evening,” Quinn starts. “As you all know, we’re here to celebrate Ellie and Dean’s new life together.”
Applause breaks out, a few hoots from the younger crowd and yeehaws from Ellie’s sister and friends.
“So I’d like to say a few words about a successful relationship.” Quinn’s grip tightens around the mic. “The secret is—well, I don’t know. I’m not the one getting married.”
Right on cue, the crowd laughs.
“So instead, I’ll share the secret to keeping Ellie happy—a variation on her favorite passage.” He clears his throat and lifts his chin. “Love is patient. Love is kind. So when Ellie obsesses over what color to paint your bedroom, practice patience. And being kind is handing over the credit card when she pulls out eighty shades of indigo.”
More
laughter.
“Love does not envy; it does not boast. Unless she’s feverish, coughing germs and hugging a trash can. Then envy those who are out on dinner dates and boast to whoever calls to check up on her about your rising stock in pharmaceuticals.”
Kat holds up a glass for Quinn, he takes it and holds it out as he continues. “Love rejoices with the truth. Believe in, support, and hold each other when things get tough, because they will get tough.” That’s the mother lode of all truths. “And remember to trust each other, because love trusts. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Don’t question your faith in each other.” The words he’d written and I’d read a thousand times, resonate within me. Memorizing them had been easy. Believing them wasn’t. Until now. “Because if he loves you, he’ll be patient. He’ll hold his hand out and wait for you to fall into it. He’ll wait so he’s the one to catch you. He’ll protect you. Because love never fails.”
Quinn pulls the microphone from his lips and grabs his champagne. Pointing at Ellie with his glass, he says, “Ellie and Dean, I wish you many days blessed with patience, kindness, honor, trust, and above all else, love.” He holds his drink up and everyone clinks glasses with their neighbor, sending a tinkling like bells through the trees.
Ellie and Dean share an intimate kiss. While the lights shine on them, applause breaks out. The DJ requests for them to take center court for their first dance. Graceful as an angel, Ellie floats through an intricate dance, happiness lighting her step and her face.
“Do I finally get to dance with my beautiful date?” Quinn whisks me around.
I throw my arm around his neck to steady the thrill. His eyes lock on mine.
“I think I can accommodate?” I tease, using words he’d spoken to me not long ago.
“
You, Ms. Cassidy Beck, have made me a very fortunate and happy man.” He takes my hands in his, and though his sister and Dean haven’t finished their dance, rocks me in a slow, intimate circle. “I don’t doubt we’ll hit some major bumps, but we can figure everything out together. Just promise you’ll talk to me before jumping to conclusions.”
“I promise to try.” I nuzzle my nose against his chin, eyes closed and happy.
“I suppose there’s a lot to celebrate tonight,” he says.
“Yes, Ellie and Dean. You and Kat. And you have a son. That’s pretty great. Right?”
Quinn kisses my forehead. “
And
I have you.”
Pulled against him, I hear his heartbeat, the hiccups, the highlights. The jagged little path leading my heart to his that is anything but straight and perfect. “It’s crazy, this guy once told me we’d work because we’re broken in the most screwed-up perfect way.”
“Smart guy. Better hold on to him.” His lips smooth across my cheek toward my ear and ease against my neck as if they’ve found a home. “I think we may be fixing the broken parts.”
Tremors vibrate my chest. I don’t ever want to stop feeling them. They’re proof I’m alive. They’re proof I’m in love. “So what are we if not broken?” I tuck my hand under my chin and peer at him.
The wild mixture of blues in his eyes has quieted. He searches mine and smooths his thumb over my lips before kissing me on the forehead. His mouth slip into a warm smile. “A beautiful, crazy wreck.”
“Are you sure your cousin got the directions right?” I skim the page ripped out of a notebook with chicken scratch scrawled across it. “This is worse than driving to the plantation.”
“She got it right. I scouted it out yesterday.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” I glance at Quinn. “Why?”
“In case she got it wrong.”
I fold my hands and toss him a smug grin.
He writes off the conversation by nabbing the directions out of my hand and skimming them.
“So tell me about the site.” I change the subject.
He smiles. “I think you’ll like it.”
I hope Lucy was right about the clients being
the bomb.
I look around. Trees everywhere. Big, huge live oaks dripping with the South’s infamous Spanish moss.
I’ve gotten used to the eerie beauty around here. The trees have become a favorite of mine to paint. A favorite for tourists to buy.
Just last month, Quinn and I sold an entire series of our work to some big-city millionaire with ties to the Lowcountry. He happened across our shop and didn’t hesitate, just plopped down his credit card. He wanted to split the series and hang Quinn’s photographs in his yacht and my paintings in his home in Italy. He even paid extra for us to do the installations ourselves. Of course Quinn fought hard for him to leave the photos with the paintings. That was the magic of the series, my artistic translation of his nighttime vigils to the oaks. But the client wouldn’t budge. Even Quinn couldn’t argue it when the guy swayed his reluctance by doubling the asking price.
“
I can’t believe we’ve been commissioned.” I do a happy dance in my seat. “I’m nervous and excited all at once. Where are we going to put our new pieces?” When we rented a space along the Battery, we didn’t take into account the square footage he’d need for his darkroom or the space I’d need to paint. We’d had to cut the gallery in half to accommodate us both. And really, with rent so steep, we had no other choice but to make due. “What about floating pieces, back to back. Suspended from the rafters.”
“Sounds cool.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” I smile.
He turns down a gravel drive, winds through the trees and parks near a huge fallen pine.
He grabs my hand and pulls me to him. “You’re happy.”
“Very.” I press my lips to his.
“Come on, the spot is around that clump of trees.”
I slide across the bench seat and land beside him. The smell of wet pine, soft bark and just . . . the South, washes into my lungs. I inhale deeply. It’s everything I associate with my new life. With Quinn and his son, Hayes, and the giggles that erupt when they pull pranks on me during hikes.
I exhale contently as he wraps his arms around my waist and tucks his hands in my back pockets. His tongue swipes across my lips, instantly bringing me closer to him. I jump up and he catches me. Our gentle kisses grow stronger.
I groan. “I want to use you in so many different ways right now, but we have clients and what if they drive up or worse, are watching us.” I plop my feet down on the ground and drag my finger over his prickly chin. “More of that later.”
“
Can’t wait.” He pinches my ass, then grabs my hand to lead me through the thick vegetation.
We follow a skinny trail wrapping like a ribbon through the trees. Birds call and the cicadas, I swear, have multiplied since leaving the main road. We maneuver through a narrow passage between two rocks. Quinn comes to a standstill. I move to his side.
And gasp.
I step in front of him, crane my neck back and study the darkening sky above the treetops. Right here in the middle of the woods is the most intimate clearing. A romantic ruin. Beautiful possibilities for painting, for engagement photo sessions. For so much. It’s the jackpot of locations.
When I come back to earth, I realize I missed the most obvious oddity. Candles everywhere. Votives hang from an oak to the left. A blanket adorned with pillows, mason jars holding more candles, and a picnic basket, sit beneath.