Until Next Time

by Dell, Justine

“I wouldn’t want my wife turned to ashes because I couldn’t foot the bill of a real casket and grave, you know,” Bud added. “Not to mention my kids. They would probably think it’s creepy that their mother was perched on the mantel of our house instead of in a final resting place.”

  Piper frowned. “You have children?” She knew Bud was married, but only because he wore a wedding band, not because she’d ever ask him about his family.

  “Not just children, I have grandchildren. Little heathens. I swear they’ll be the death of me.” He gave a robust laugh, giving away the fact that he loved his family and whatever chaos it included.

  “Oh, I didn’t know that, either.”

  Bud’s face flickered. “That’s right, you’ve never asked about my family.” His lip curled. “And after all these years I’ve known you. How odd is that?” Another laugh rolled out of him.

  Piper stiffened, not finding it amusing at all.

  “Just last fall, my youngest son graduated from med school.” The proud tone in Bud’s voice was evident. “He and the fiancé are settling down in my home town. Thinking of opening a little practice there. It’s great to have your family close.”

  Piper’s frown deepened, remembering all-too-well why she didn’t get down to the really personal stuff. Quinn’s finger stroked up her elbow and helped soothe her stretched nerves.

  “Well, we should be going,” Piper said, her voice a little sharper than she intended. “I’d like to get through section A of the displays before lunch.”

  “Sure you don’t want to change your mind about the new model?” Bud asked.

  “Like I always say: no. But if I ever change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “That’s all a man can hope for.” With a wave, the man turned and bustled about his booth, introducing himself to others who’d stopped by.

  Piper didn’t look at Quinn as she hustled her way through the crowd. All the time, his hand was strong on her lower back.

  “You okay?” Quinn’s voice snapped her into attention.

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You seemed a little tense back there for a minute. Sure you’re all right?”

  “Fine.” Her voice had a hard edge to it, and she couldn’t help it. And yet, Quinn still gave her a mesmerizing smile.

  He didn’t press her further, thank goodness. Not that she could explain why she felt like her insides were constricting. As the morning progressed, her mood got worse. With each booth they stopped at, each friend Piper stopped to see, she learned more and more about what she’d shut herself out to all these years. Some of her professional cohorts had suffered financial problems, others were growing too big for their current operations, some were trying out new—and inventing—business models. They talked new products, designs, insurance changes, dealing with clients of all shapes, sizes, and emotions. And with Quinn at her side, being his charming self, Piper also found out about families, loved ones, children, grandchildren, colleges, hobbies people had outside of work, and a million other personal things Piper could barely digest.

  As Quinn continued to mingle, laugh, and share stories with these strangers, Piper realized that she didn’t know these people at all. She realized that, truly, their lives and their businesses were nothing like hers. And how after all these years, she was finally starting to see things she’d never seen. She wasn’t like people outside her profession and now she realized wasn’t even truly like the people inside her profession. She didn’t have any family. She didn’t have anyone she loved. She didn’t even have any hobbies, for crying out loud. She was, just like the card she’d picked for Imaginiff, a robot in everything she did. Systematic, unfeeling, and detached from not only her business, but from the rest of the world.

  That awareness hung heavy and uncomfortable in her gut. She couldn’t shake the feeling of it. And why it suddenly bothered her, she had no idea. Through it all, though, Quinn stood firmly next to her, his presence a warm reminder of how much he’d changed her life in such a short amount of time.

  “I think I’ve seen enough of the booths,” Piper bit out, not able to keep her displeasure out of her voice. “Can we go?”

  Quinn gave her a concerned look, cradling his arm in that oh-so-comfortable spot around her back. His smile was slow, understanding. Her insides did a little jig. “This is your thing, Piper. If you want to go, we’ll go.”

  She sighed heavily, knowing that running away wouldn’t help. But at the same time…she didn’t want Quinn to see how disjointed she was from the world, and everyone in it. She’d noticed the flicker in his gaze as his attention focused on her. He was keenly aware—whether he said it or not—that she was struggling. It was in the way he held her arm, stroked her back, and smiled at her gently. Sweet chocolate, he was better than perfect. He was proving to be her rock. She hadn’t asked for—

  “Piper?”

  Her thoughts skidded to a halt. “Yes?”

  “Did you want to go?”

  “No. No, I think I need a minute. Get some air.”

  “All right.” There it was again. That easy, devastating smile.

  Still holding her tight, Quinn lead her through the throng of people, out of the thick air of the booth area, making sure no one bothered her. He brushed off polite hellos and how-are-yous with grace, tucking her tighter into his side with each step.

  He led her with confidence to the front lobby, depositing her on the plush red couch carefully. He kissed her cheek. “I’m going to take a stroll around the place while you get your bearings. Ten minutes enough?”

  She touched his cheek, aching to be held in his arms. “Yes.”

  He moved to go, but she stopped him with a defining kiss. “Thank you, Quinn.”

  He drew back, touching her nose softly with the tip of his fingers, taking his warmth with him. It left a strange void she wasn’t comfortable with. As he walked away, Piper couldn’t fathom how she’d ended up in a sex-only relationship with a man who cared this much. Especially since she learned she’d never really cared about anything important in over a decade. She’d been fooling herself when it came to the only people she’d ever thought she’d actually gotten close to. What did that say about her?

  She didn’t deserve him. And he certainly deserved more than she could ever give him.

  A painful sting grew in Piper’s chest with each step Quinn made. With a whole-body shake, she tried to get the feeling to go away. It didn’t.

  Yes, she was fooling herself. Fooling herself for thinking she could have Quinn and not connect with him. Fooling herself into thinking she could let a man like him into her life and not be changed by it. He’d shown her things, taught her things, and made a gaping hole in her heart that she suddenly needed filled. She closed her eyes when she realized what that empty spot was, and what she needed to admit to herself in order to fill it.

  <<<<>>>>>

  The rest of the afternoon was a total bust. Piper’s ten minutes of calming did nothing to actually calm her. It had only given her more time to think of the mess she’d made by getting involved with Quinn.

  She couldn’t shake her ache. Her confusion. Her need for him. It was terrifying and it made her angry. Angry that she’d let herself be one of those fools who was so selfish.

  All afternoon she’d listened to coworkers ramble on and on about their personal lives—courtesy of questions Quinn had asked. She’d discussed less business this first day than she’d ever remembered before.

  They’d discussed home gardens with the Mayors, the importance of post-secondary education with Mr. Thompson and how he didn’t know if he could afford to send his five children. Baseball with the cremators, vacations with the answering service, art with a casket company, and—surely Quinn’s favorite—flight problems with the cargo company.

  Cheese and crackers, her head was spinning with all the stuff she’d learned about these practical strangers.

  Huh. Strangers.

  Because that was what they were. With eac
h booth, each introduction to people she’d seen over and over, she’d learned something new about them, their lives, their hopes, dreams, and what they wanted in the future. A knot had formed in her gut, and with each passing second it grew tighter and tighter.

  With all the probing into their lives, they, of course, turned the tables on Quinn and Piper. Quinn had been all-too-willing to share the story of the foundation, his job, and his family. Piper had watched him in mild fascination as he seemed to open up willingly and happily to these people, just as they had done to him.

  But when the attention had turned to Piper and she’d only been able to mumble about how busy her business kept her so she didn’t have time for a private life, Quinn would go into a story about how she’d helped his family when they’d needed it most. It was soothing to listen to him talk so sweetly about her, but at the same time, she felt guilty for not being able to share anything with these people. She didn’t have anything to share. She’d shut herself off from the world—from people—for practically the last decade.

  And now with her gut churning and threatening to spill her lunch, Piper was ready to run out of the conference and never return. Without Quinn with her next year, she couldn’t face these people like she had today. They would know too much. They would want to know more. And, dear God, they might actually tell Piper things she didn’t really want to hear.

  Just like today.

  But today she couldn’t escape. Not with Quinn’s warmth beside her. Not with him leading her here and there to mingle. She both loved and hated it. A strange combination.

  Mitch appeared at the end of the long aisle of booths and made a beeline for Piper. “Everything suit you?” he asked, stopping in front of them.

  Piper couldn’t find the words. Nothing had suited her. Thankfully, Quinn—once again—came to her rescue.

  “This place is amazing,” he said, reaching out to shake Mitch’s hand. “I’ve always been fascinated by Piper’s work, so meeting all these wonderful folks has solidified my respect for this profession.” Quinn’s hand fell away. “Amazing people, they are.”

  Mitch didn’t try to hide his grin from the flattery. “I agree. Before I worked with my father, I’d been in all kinds of work: construction, roofing, floral arrangement.”

  Piper frowned.

  Quinn laughed. “Strange combination.”

  Mitch shrugged, eyes gleaming. “I was trying to find my niche.”

  “I thought you’d always worked with your father’s restoration business,” Piper said.

  “No, I didn’t start until about a year or so before you and I met, Piper.”

  There it was again. That rolling feeling of not really knowing someone Piper had thought she’d known. And it had to be this man, the one who’d helped her through her father’s death?

  “Dad was the one who actually steered me toward restoration. He’d seen how I liked to work with my hands and create beautiful things. It wasn’t until I got my hands on that first person that I realized what I’d been missing.” A proud smile lit his face. “It’s an amazing thing to turn the face of the dead into something that looks like it has life left in it. It’s fulfilling in a way most people can’t imagine.” His eyes focused on Piper. “Surely you know that feeling. You do restorations yourself, don’t you?”

  “Only simple ones,” she murmured, still trying to grasp the new knowledge.

  “Again,” Quinn said, “you all never cease to amaze me. What passion you all have for the dead. And for the living, as well.”

  Piper didn’t miss the twinkle in Quinn’s eyes. She wondered now if he questioned how Piper dealt with everything. After all, it didn’t seem like a single person they’d met dealt with things like she did. Quinn was surely to take notice and realize there was something wrong with her.

  Wait. Was there something wrong with her? She drew her lip into her mouth, contemplating the question. The day rolled through her head: each conversation, each lighthearted look into someone’s personal life. With a sigh, Piper realized there was something wrong with her. Something very, very wrong.

  And now a new question flitted through her mind: Did she want to be fixed?

  “Piper? Did you hear me?”

  She focused on Mitch’s voice. “I’m sorry. My mind was wandering for a moment there. What did you say?”

  Quinn gave her a once-over, his eyes lingering deeply on hers. She suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed.

  “I was telling Quinn that pretty much everyone in the business has a deep passion for people—the living and otherwise, wouldn’t you agree?”

  She gulped, a huge lump forming in her throat. Piper didn’t have a passion for the living. She kept herself as far away from them as possible. She only dealt with them when necessary, and even when she did, she did so in her own perfectly practiced way of staying collected and detached as only a trained woman could. Trained by her father in the precise way to deal with suffering and loss. The less it touched her, the better.

  “Of course,” she finally said, her eyes never leaving Quinn’s probing ones. He seemed instantly affected by her answer, his expression narrowing into confusion.

  Mitch gave her a comforting smile. “I would be difficult to do this job otherwise, I think.” His gaze flickered with pain. “It’s hard, but I like to think it’s rewarding.” His eyes slid from Quinn and back to Piper. “It makes you appreciate the people you do have that much more.”

  Piper couldn’t breathe. Instantly lightheaded at that particular realization, she swayed on her feet. Quinn’s always present hand caught her by the waist, steadying her.

  “You okay?” Mitch asked. “You’re pale.”

  Piper swiped a hand over her brow. “Uh, yeah. It’s been a long day, I guess. I think I’m spent.”

  Quinn’s grip massaged her side. “Guess it’s an early night for us, then,” he said, holding out his free hand to Mitch. “It was wonderful to meet you, Mitch. I look forward to the rest of the week.”

  Mitch shook his hand, but his focus remained on Piper. “Do you think you’ll be rested enough for the ball tonight?”

  Piper shook her head. “I’m not sure.” She didn’t really want to be around these people anymore. Ever. She wanted to pack up her stuff and go back to the safety of her home. Her normal life. The one that didn’t include emotions, or any discussions about them. She pressed a puff of air through her lips. “I think I’ve had enough learning and catching up for today. Maybe I’ll sleep and start fresh tomorrow.”

  Piper vaguely remembered the haze of goodbyes as she was ushered through the lobby, into the elevator. The only thing that remained firm and certain was the heat at her back and the hand on her waist. Quinn. Always present. Always comforting. Always what she needed.

  His thumb stroked up and down her arm. His breath warmed the back of her neck. But he said nothing, as if he knew that Piper didn’t want to speak. He led her down the hall, into their room, and gave her a chaste kiss at the door before leading her to the bed.

  “You need to rest,” is all he said before carefully depositing her onto the plush mattress.

  She needed far more than rest. She needed to figure out what she was going to do with the things she’d learned today. What she was truly going to do with Quinn. What she was going to do with herself after all this. Her life had suddenly shifted, and she wasn’t sure which way to go.

  The last thing Piper remembered before dozing off was those impossibly light green eyes focused intently on her. The sight of his concern, his care…it made her heart lurch, reminding her of the very thing she’d been running from her whole life.

  Chapter Twenty

  There he was, sleeping like a baby in the chair. Piper inched toward him, knowing the way his neck was kinked had to be uncomfortable. How come he hadn’t lain down with her?

  Because you’re an utter mess.

  She grunted as she stepped in front of Quinn. She was a mess. Everything had shattered around her. Her life as she’d known it. Th
e man sleeping in front of her. Everything.

  She’d learned stuff about herself today that she hadn’t liked. She came to the conclusion that she was broken, devoid of emotion, shunning people from her life for the sake of remaining unselfish. She’d truly been running away from life while living.

  And while that realization was set firmly in her mind, she had no idea what to do about it. No idea how to fix it. And as she gazed at Quinn’s features, she was more torn about what to do about him. But she knew one thing: she couldn’t run anymore. She wouldn’t go back to the comfort of her Wisconsin funeral home to escape those normal people at the conference. She would face them—head-on—like her father would want her to do. Like he’d taught her to do. To be strong, to not let anyone—or anything—get in her way. She might not have any love or stories to spread around, but she did have one thing: her pride. While battered from what she’d learned about herself, it was the only thing that wasn’t completely broken. She was pretty sure, with the help of the man lying before her, she could survive this week of madness and go back to the life she was comfortable with.

  Piper didn’t know how long she’d be able to keep on living the way she was, but right now that was all she had—all she knew—so she had to embrace it. Press on, as her father would have said. So that was what she was going to do. She was going to go to the ball, dressed in her best, Quinn at her side, and have a good time. She wasn’t going to worry about the people around her thinking she was different. They didn’t know her, only the part she wanted them to see. While she didn’t like to think of it like that, Quinn had reminded her on several occasions that there was more than one version of herself. She wasn’t going to run from the business her father had built. The one that she’d helped mold and grow and had run for the past five years on her own. She couldn’t.

  She wasn’t going to worry about how her work and life had stripped her of some of the basic things. Forget about Mitch and all the other people she’d lied to herself about for all those years. She could go on the way she’d always had. No worrying or carrying about others. It was, after all, what she did best. She was a strong woman. A lone woman. Right now, all Piper was going to worry about was having a good time…something she hadn’t had in a very long while.