by Ava Miles
“You encouraged it by being you,” Francesca said, slipping on her heels. “Much like you did with me. You know…I don’t know what’s next for us, so if there’s something you really want to do, you should go ahead and do it. You don’t need to hold back on my account.”
“Like open a chocolate shop?” Alice cried out, her rapid response proving she’d given it plenty of thought. “Sometimes after yoga when I’m meditating, I can see the door opening and a glass counter filled with chocolate: truffles, cakes, brownies even. Then I fall back to earth. Opening a shop seems like a crazy idea right now. Why would anyone venture into a chocolate shop during an outbreak?”
But her excitement was obvious, and Francesca truly did think she could do anything, so she found herself saying, “You would find a way to make it work. Besides, aren’t you always saying how healing and uniting chocolate is? I figure we’re going to need a lot of both in the days ahead. Have you thought about asking Clifton to join you?”
Alice inhaled a deep yoga breath before blurting out, “I can see him behind the counter when I’m meditating. It’s so cool and sweet and weird. He’s like a grandfather, friend, and neighbor rolled up in one person. Francesca, he’s become family.”
“I know,” she said softly. And no one deserved a loving, doting family more than her sweet friend.
“But I’m delaying us. We need to get to dinner. Come on.”
They were out the door before Francesca could ask more questions, and Alice tugged her hand like a woman on a mission. Except she took her down a side hallway instead of to the dining room.
“We’re having an aperitif in the wine cellar first,” Alice said, her black boots sounding on the small wooden steps as they descended.
“Oh, how lovely!” A punch of excitement broke through, the kind she used to feel when she and Alice would try out a new hot spot in London or Paris or Prague. This was something different.
When the door opened, she felt a spark of attraction, of appreciation. Quinn sat there in the candlelight, wearing a tux and looking impossibly handsome. He unfurled slowly from his chair, giving her plenty of time to check him out.
“Welcome to date night,” he said, gesturing to the golden room. “Alice and others helped me cook. I wanted to do something special for you—for us.”
“I’m outta here,” Alice said, giving her a side hug before slowly backing out. “Quinn, text me when you want me to bring the food down.”
He crossed to Alice, sending Francesca a cheeky wink as he passed her. Then he whispered something in Alice’s ear, and her friend shrieked and launched herself at him. “Okay, you’re officially my friend now! I am so outta here.”
Francesca watched as Alice raced up the stairs, sounding like a herd of bulls during Pamplona’s famous run. “What was that about?”
He gave a sardonic smile. “She liked my suggestion for dessert.” All jokiness leaked out of his expression. “Come here. I really want to kiss you. God, you look beautiful.”
She held out her hands and he took them. “You look handsome and hot and deliciously sexy. Did you bring a tux with you?”
He laughed. “No, this is Trevor’s. He’s a sucker for romance now. I probably need a tutorial from him and Flynn. Flynn is going to do date night with Annie tomorrow, apparently. I beat him to it.”
Her hands curled around his nape, and she loved the smell of his crisp cologne washing over her. “I could get used to date night in a wine cellar in a historic Irish inn. You still got game, Quinn Merriam.”
“I’m glad you think so, Miss Maroun, because I’ve got a little more to show you. I don’t think I can wait until dessert, after all.”
Before she could process what that might mean, he stepped away and reached into his jacket pocket. She gasped as he lowered onto one knee.
The heart he’d captured started to pound in fast, insistent beats. He was opening the box, and she had a flash of another time, when he had opened a red Cartier box. The ring was different, of course, but just as magnificent. The ruby was surrounded by diamonds in one of her favorite settings.
It was perfect for her.
“You managed to find the perfect ring twice, Quinn,” she said, her voice a little breathless.
“That’s a relief, what with it being a different jeweler and all.” He swallowed thickly. “Let’s not talk about last time. Francesca… I know you wanted to wait until you had a clearer picture of your career, but the future seems pretty hazy right now. I figure two people who love each other shouldn’t wait to be together, so I’ll continue… If that’s okay?”
He was asking for her permission to propose? His thoughtfulness moved her, and his words spoke to something deep inside of her. She found she didn’t want to wait either. Hadn’t she spent most of her life waiting for one thing or another? “Please do.”
He blew out a long breath. “From the very first, I loved you and knew we were meant for each other. I know it’s been a long road, but there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re the person I’d like to walk beside. Always. Will you marry me and be mine forever?”
Be his forever. “Yes, Quinn Merriam. I want that too. I missed you horribly when we were apart. Whatever comes, and I know it’s hard to predict the future right now, I’m yours. For better and for worse.” She stopped the rest of the vows because he was slipping the ring on her finger, standing, and taking her into his arms.
“For better, babe. Always for better.” Then he was kissing her senseless, and she was kissing him right back.
His lips cruised down her neck, and she cupped his face, awash in love for him. “You and I have been through it, Quinn, but we’re coming out on the other side.”
She’d more than fulfilled her New Year’s resolution regarding him, she realized. She only wished she could have saved all of Merriam Enterprises too. Her heart still hadn’t made peace with the loss of their core business. Quinn wouldn’t have a role in a small skincare company, and he didn’t know what was ahead either.
But that was the last thing she should be focusing on right now. They’d agreed to spend the rest of their lives together. She tightened her arms around him, forcing the swell of dark thoughts aside.
“More than,” he said, kissing her lightly on the lips. “How about we make love, and then I can text Alice?”
She eyed the sturdy wooden farm table. “Make it quick but good because I want to share our news with everyone. We could all use happy news.”
He laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. I always make it good.”
It certainly wasn’t quick, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. He stripped her down to only her bra and boosted her up onto the edge of the table. She arched toward him and moaned as he penetrated her, his hands cupping her hips. They started to rock, and she locked her ankles around his waist as he began thrusting deeper, harder. Soon, she was lying back and gripping the edges of the table, eyes closed as their passion built. When she came, she heard him cry out and follow her, his hands clasping hers.
“Jesus, if this is what engaged sex is like, I’m all for it.” He lowered his upper body onto her and kissed her sweetly. “I love you. I promise to show you how much every day.”
Needing to touch him, she threaded her hand through his hair, which was an inch longer than usual since most hair salons were closed. Personally, she liked it that way. “I promise too. Come. Let’s eat. Then we can celebrate with your family.”
“Prepare to be blown away by my chopping prowess,” he joked, picking up his phone and texting Alice. “Get dressed. She’ll be here like the wind.”
Sure enough, Alice was there five minutes later, balancing a silver tray alongside Clifton, who carried one too.
“We’re engaged!” Francesca cried out, holding up her left hand.
Alice set her tray down and grabbed her up in a bear hug. “Way to go! I was so excited when Quinn told me. I love that he couldn’t wait until after dinner.”
“Congratulations,” Clifton said
, a warm and rather unprofessional smile on his face. “It’s marvelous news. If I may…”
He set his own tray aside and approached Francesca, kissing her on both cheeks. “Welcome to the family, my dear.”
“Thank you, Clifton.” She shared a look with Quinn. Yes, she was officially joining the Merriams. How lucky was she?
After they supped on the scrumptious meal Quinn had expertly chopped and then scooped up every last spoonful of chocolate mousse for dessert, they ventured upstairs to share the news with his family.
She was passed from Merriam to Merriam for kisses and hugs and congratulations. Shawn brought out champagne with Aileen’s help, and everyone lifted their glasses as she and Quinn stood in the center of the dining room.
“To true love and the long tradition of Merriam soulmates,” Shawn said. “May it always be so for generations to come.”
Francesca thought of the children they would have as she lifted the glass to her lips. Never had the champagne tasted so perfect, the bubbles so delicate and buoyant.
Quinn raised his glass again. “I want to toast Aunt Clara, Uncle Arthur, and Hargreaves for being our family matchmakers. You did a hell of a job.”
“I’d say,” Uncle Arthur called out. “Some of you were easy as pie while others were downright bears. You know who you are.”
“Bears?” Amelia asked, holding on to Flynn’s leg. “Where’s the bears?”
“It’s a metaphor, sweetie,” Flynn said. “I, for one, was easy. Speaking of… We should call Connor and Louisa and Michaela and Boyd, right? Not that it’s my news, but—”
“Great idea!” Quinn said. “Let’s call Louisa and Connor first from our makeshift conference room.” Since Connor had nudged Quinn in Francesca’s direction, it seemed only fitting.
They all piled into the formal parlor—what had become their war room—and Flynn took over on the tech side.
Louisa picked up after a few rings, her face gray. “I was thinking about calling you, but I was going to wait a little longer until we knew for sure.”
“What is it?” Assumpta asked, stepping toward the large screen.
“Connor started to run a fever,” Louisa said. “He’s congested suddenly. It happened so fast.”
Francesca’s stomach dropped. She took Quinn’s hand, and he gripped back like it was a lifeline.
“You think he has the virus,” Assumpta said, her voice filled with steel as Shawn walked forward and put an arm around her waist.
Louisa nodded her head slowly. “Yes. A few cases have come through the shelter despite our safety policies. I’ve been praying it wouldn’t spread, but it’s so hard to know. The doctor my dad sent over performed a test, and we should know in a couple of days. It usually takes a week for results to come back. Isn’t that insane?”
If it was a serious case, he could be dead before the results came back. Francesca had read other accounts of that happening.
“Give him the flower,” Clara said, coming closer to the screen. “There’s no use waiting for the results. If he’s sick with fever, he has something. Boil the water. Put the flower in the bottom and let it steep for fifteen minutes. How awake is he?”
She pressed her hand to her mouth. “In and out. He keeps waking up saying he’s tired and achy. I’ve…been giving him broth and tea. It only started this morning. He went to sleep early last night, saying he was tired, but I didn’t think anything of it. We’ve both been working nonstop. But he was burning up this morning.”
“It’s going to be fine, dear.” Clara’s voice had the same steel in it as Assumpta’s. “That flower saved Michaela. It will do the same for Connor.”
“All right,” she said, wiping her nose. “I’ll give it to him once we get off. I…had to get tested too. If I’m sick, I’ll take care of him as long as possible. The doctor said no one else should come into the apartment. If the fever worsens, we might have to go to the hospital, but not yet. My dad said he’s going to leave groceries and whatnot for us outside the door, and Boxer is going to step up with the shelter. But—”
“Take one thing at a time, Louisa,” Assumpta said, “and let others help you. Take care of our boy, okay? And yourself. We love you both.”
“And we love you too,” Louisa said, her mouth tight. “I’ll push and prod him to get better. I’m not losing him to this. I’ve been telling him so.”
Francesca felt the burn of tears and held them back. Crying right now wouldn’t help anyone.
“Go get the flower, honey,” Assumpta said. “Keep us updated.”
“I will,” she said with a hard shake of her head.
The screen went blank, and a shock rolled through the room like a dark cloud.
“Not Connor,” Caitlyn said, starting to cry. Beau wrapped her into a tight hug, and as Francesca found solace in Quinn’s arms, she noted the other siblings were all holding their spouses or partners. Clara and Arthur were of course holding each other too. The only exception was Assumpta and Shawn.
“I have to go to him, Shawn,” she said.
“The doctor said no one should enter the room,” her husband said. “He’s my son too, and I want to call the pilot and fly over this minute. But this isn’t a normal illness. Let the flower do its work, Assumpta.”
Tears flooded Assumpta’s eyes, and all of her children paused at the sight.
“He’s right,” Clara said, rubbing the woman’s arm. “The flower will heal him. I know it will.”
“And what if this virus is beyond its power?” Assumpta said. “Boyd and Michaela said there was nothing conclusive about its use for the virus yet.”
“Testing is in the early stages,” Clara said gently.
“I can’t let my boy go through this alone. I just can’t.” She strode out of the room.
Shawn lowered his head, putting his hand over his eyes, and Clara hugged him to her.
“I’ll go talk to Mom,” Trevor said, wiping his nose. “I’ve thought about this a lot. What I’d do and how I’d react if one of us got sick. I’ll lay it out for her. That’s all we can do.”
He left the room, and Quinn bowed his head to Francesca’s shoulder and whispered, “I don’t think I can take this.”
She didn’t know what to say to him, so she didn’t say anything. She just wrapped him in her arms. The mood was somber as many of them took up vigil in the dining room. Annie and Flynn had left to tuck the girls into bed, but they returned an hour or so later. Trevor had come back too, saying their mother had promised to consider his perspective. He’d pulled Hatshep onto his lap, and Becca was sitting next to him with her hand on his thigh.
“It’s finally hit home,” J.T. said, rubbing his face. “I wonder how many people are doing the same thing we are tonight, waiting for news of someone they love.”
“You trust in that damn flower,” Arthur said gruffly. “You don’t give up hope. Connor is strong. He’s going to pull through.”
Francesca recalled the symptoms she’d read about. At least Connor’s lips weren’t blue. That particular symptom sounded like a death sentence.
They waited through the night with Alice and Hargreaves and Aileen bringing in pots of coffee and tea. Assumpta finally came downstairs with Shawn.
“My husband and one of my sons have pointed out that it would hurt this family even more if I went to Connor and became ill myself.”
Francesca’s throat grew tight, hearing the proud woman’s voice break.
“It goes against a mother’s every instinct to not run to her child’s side—no matter what their age. But Shawn pointed out that I have other children too, and I know you guys need me. He does too. I’m staying here, although it really pisses me off, and I’m not sure I can forgive myself if something happens. I wouldn’t care if I got it, but Trevor told me that’s stupid, and we don’t do stupid in this family. Right, Trev?”
Francesca couldn’t imagine anyone saying that to Assumpta.
“Right, Mom.” He crossed the room and pulled her to him. “W
e all want to be with him, Mom. I’m sorry I had to say those things.”
She stroked his hair. “Oh, honey. I’m proud you did. No man but your father has ever talked to me like that.”
J.T. stood up and walked over to them. “I’m glad you’re staying, Mom.”
Then he wrapped his twin and his mother into a group hug, and the other Merriam children rose and joined them, Quinn included. Shawn was the last to join, and Francesca brushed tears aside as the proud man wiped away his own tears as he embraced his children.
She shared a glance with Arthur, who was also wiping tears. In fact, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Alice and Clifton were there too, as intent as the rest of them, and Clifton’s mouth was tight with his battle to keep his tears from dropping.
The hours passed, and time seemed to slow. Francesca was sure that if she went to the window, the tide coming in from the sea would be in slow motion. Louisa texted a few updates to Assumpta, which she read stoically to the group. She’d given him the flower brew, but there was no change yet, and Francesca’s hands grew cold.
What if this mythical flower she’d heard about couldn’t cure the virus? Michaela and Boyd had been stricken, hearing about Connor, and they hadn’t been able to offer any reassurance about the flower. They didn’t know if it would cure him.
What if nothing could?
Needing to use the lavatory, she decided to wash her face and change her clothes. She kissed Quinn and left the room. Every motion was an effort. By the time she reached their room, she was crying silently. Glancing down at her engagement ring, she pressed it to her mouth.
Last night was supposed to have been a celebration.
As she was changing clothes, her cell phone rang. She finished pulling on her clean shirt and crossed to the bedside table. It was her father, requesting a FaceTime call. The rarity of it made her hasten to answer.
When his image flashed onto the screen, she almost cried out. He was in a hospital bed, his lips a terrifying bluish tint, plastic tubes in his nose cresting over the ears he’d always said were too big.
She tumbled down a rabbit hole of despair.