He ground his teeth. “Yes.”
“So then why is it so difficult to see that once you came into my world, my heart, and took what I promised to never give, would it seem so wrong of me to ask the same of you?” She turned to him, slowly, determination flashing in those nutmeg eyes.
Quinn clenched his hands to fists, the realization setting in. The room was suddenly stifling. “Is that what you really want, Piper? To marry me?”
Her gaze flickered briefly. “Yes.”
“And what would happen if I said no?” Was that regret he saw in her eyes…or something else?
“Then that would make this unavoidable.”
“What’s unavoidable?”
“Saying goodbye.”
A knot formed in his gut. “Don’t do this, Piper. Please.”
She clutched the sheet tighter around her chest. “There’s no other way, Quinn. Don’t you see that?”
“I see lots of ways, Piper. And every way leads me right back to you.”
Her head shook, defeated. “It can’t be like that with us.”
“It is like that with us. Don’t you see that?” In three, long strides he was across the room, looming over her. He snatched one hand from her sheet and pressed it against his rapidly beating heart. “Feel that, Piper. Feel it.”
Frown lines formed on her brow.
“We can be together and not be married. You love me…isn’t that enough?” he asked, his voice rougher than he’d intended.
“No.” Her fingers tightened against his skin. “I told you that a long time ago. I believe in love. While it’s something I’ve never wanted to feel, I believe that if two people love each other, they should spend the rest of their lives together. I’m doing something I’ve never done with anyone else here, Quinn, the least you could do is grant me the same courtesy.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Her hand dropped. “I guess you don’t understand how hard this was for me, then.” The distance in her voice was back. The sadness laced in her words scratched at his heart. “I thought you, of all people, would understand what it took for me to say those words…to allow those feelings to even surface enough to let them bloom.” She spun away from him. “I guess I was wrong about you, after all. Maybe it’s not what I feel. Maybe it’s something else entirely. Or maybe it’s you…”
He kept the distance between them, not wanting to upset her further. He’d already done enough. First he’d broken her only rule, then he’d refused to give her what she needed. What kind of man was he?
“It’s not me that’s the problem here, Piper. It’s you.” The lie burnt the back of his tongue. “I had promised over and over that I wouldn’t love you. I’m sorry I broke that promise. I can’t help it that my emotions got the best of me. That’s what love does, dammit. It takes over every waking thought. I wake up wanting to see you, touch you, and I think about your eyes, smile, and laugh all day. I go to bed at night aching to have you in my arms, tasting you and making you scream my name. You’re always right there, Piper, whether you wanted to be or not. I can’t help that. I can’t help the way I am, that much is true. But I will tell you this, I refuse to let you go because you need something more than simple love. Love should always be enough. And hell, if you don’t want that, I’ll take it away and you can have me. We can just be. You’ve let me in, Piper, and that’s where I’m going to stay.”
“It’s not that simple—”
“It is, Piper. It is.”
“I’m sorry, Quinn. So sorry. But we can’t give each other what we need. I knew that from the beginning, but I let it happen anyway.” Her hand fluttered aimlessly, falling lifelessly at her sides. “You knew, too,” she added on a whisper. “While we may have been perfect for each other, Quinn, we knew in the end we couldn’t go the distance. We cheated ourselves, stole the moments we had and enjoyed, and now it’s time to say goodbye.”
“Don’t—” Her words sliced through him. He couldn’t say what he needed to say. There were no words.
In a sense she was right. Had he not fallen in love with her—and had spoken the truth—he wouldn’t have be reminded of his own demons. Even though he would walk through glass for Piper, he couldn’t commit to those sacred vows. Not again. He had done that once with Maddie…and he had lost her. He’d promised himself—and her—that she would be the only one who had been held so dear. And how could he break that promise? That commitment he’d sworn to his deceased wife?
He would do anything to erase the last five minutes and start over.
“Please, Piper…let it be as simple as the two of being together. We can be happy.”
Her head craned toward him. She blinked slowly, seemingly digesting his words before turning back to the window. “I didn’t want to care. About anything. Feeling is not something I can afford to do, yet I did it…for you. And now you can’t do the same. That, Quinn, is simple. Can’t you see that?”
Yes, he saw that perfectly. And at that moment, he saw the perfect way to counteract her thought process.
He grasped her arm, spinning her around, and crushed her against him, claiming her mouth. She protested for only a second before she became liquid in his arms. His lips searched hers, and finally he parted his lips with his tongue, claiming her. He might never be able to say those three little words again, but he could show her love. That would be half the battle, wouldn’t it? She would not leave him. Not like this.
She clung to him, opening herself up and letting him dive deeper. His tongue probed, his hands tore away her towel. Within seconds she was panting against his cheek, clawing at the front of his shirt. Couldn’t she see that she already did feel? She always had?
“Piper.” He stilled, clasping his arms tightly around her body.
She sighed heavily against his neck, making him shudder with desire. While he wanted nothing more than to take her, show her how much he needed every part of her, that’s not what she needed. Not now.
“What have you done to me, Quinn?”
He held his breath for a moment, realizing this was the second time she’d asked him that exact same question. What had he done to her? Nothing but care about her. Given her the attention she deserved, the love she desired but didn’t realize. He’d given her everything without either of them even realizing it, and he’d give everything he didn’t have. Just to have her. While he knew it wouldn’t be forever, he wouldn’t let it go so quickly. Not yet.
“Do you see how you felt when I kissed you?” he asked, trying to calm his ragged breaths. She nodded, tightening her grip around his waist. “You’ve always felt things, Piper. Not only with me, but with everyone else, too. You’ve never let them free. There’s no sense in letting those feelings go now when you always had them. Don’t push me away because I can’t marry you. Feel with me. No one else will ever feel like you do in my arms. No one, Piper. Tell me the same isn’t true for you.”
She looked at him, lips tight, eyes wide.
“Please, Piper. Don’t let me go.”
Her head settled into the crook of his neck, and she sighed deeply. “I’m so sorry, Quinn.” Her hand splayed out across his chest and she pushed herself back an arm’s length. Her gaze found his and held, her tears still clinging to her lashes. “It’s not enough for me. I’ve done my part…now it’s time to do yours.”
Her eyes danced around the room. “If you don’t have anywhere to go, stay here. I’m sure I can stay with Mitch.”
“Piper—” His throat clamped shut as he reached out to her.
She recoiled, drawing the sheet back around her. “Unless you tell me what I need to hear, save your words.”
That cool distance was back in her voice, but Quinn heard the quiver beneath her bravado. This was killing her. So why was she doing it?
He reached out to her again. “But the conference—”
“I don’t care about the conference. I’ve been to a hundred, and I’ll come to a hundred more.”
“Our presentation.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Her gaze flitted to the door and back to him.
His eyes narrowed. “Are you certain, Piper?”
Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “Is your marriage rule absolute?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then, yes, I’m certain.” Her eyes fell on the door and stayed there. “I think at this point, it would be best if you leave. Go home, back to Wisconsin.”
He stepped back, feeling a heavy blow to his chest. He wanted to shake some sense into her. Make her see that her fear of love wasn’t the same as the reasons he wouldn’t marry. They could still love each other from now until the end of time, a damn piece of paper didn’t make any difference.
Shaking his head, he gathered up his things and dressed. Piper didn’t move from her spot. He headed to the door, realizing this was it. This was his moment to fight or flee. With Piper not even sparing him a glance, he fled, heartbroken.
<<<<>>>>>
As the door closed gently behind Quinn, Piper collapsed to the floor, allowing her sobs to escape full scale. She’d managed to contain her pain until he walked out the door. She had to show him she was strong.
She wasn’t.
She couldn’t bear the weight of what just happened. No amount of backpedaling would erase it or cover it up. They’d had to deal with it. She’d had to deal with it. And her love for him.
She’d hoped that her traitorous love was not going to get the best of her. But it had. After Quinn uttered those three devastating words, she could only do that same. Because she knew that Quinn would make her face her feelings. Just like always.
Piper had somehow managed to be smacked upside the head with her own demons, her own fears. Love had somehow gotten past her senses, her walls, and had wrapped itself snuggly around her heart. It wasn’t only love, she thought dully; it was Quinn. The man who stole her breath and made her ache to see his glittering eyes, his smiling face, his wonderful voice. It had taken her a while to come to terms with what Quinn did to her.
Love itself stood the test of time, but sometimes that time was cut short. That was Piper’s fear. When she had loved, she had loved hard. She had put her soul into each moment, making sure to cherish the gift. Because even though she hated the thought of love and the selfishness of it, she knew it was truly a reward. Something that she couldn’t find around every street corner. Something she couldn’t buy or barter. Something that found her, whether she liked it or not. She’d been foolish to think she could run from it forever. Quinn had deserved to know the truth. Her chest constricted. She hadn’t wanted this love. She hadn’t wanted the pain and sacrifice that came with it. The selfishness she knew it created. The heartache. But she’d seen it in his eyes as he’d hovered her. The undying devotion in his voice. It was love. And there was no escaping it.
Her own rules had shattered around her by her admittance. It was everything she wasn’t looking for and everything she feared. But she’d owned it—there was nothing else to do. If Quinn had taught her anything, it was to be fair and honest with her emotions—with him. And so she had.
And what did it get her?
Another lost love.
Another broken heart.
To her, it was simple: she loved Quinn, he loved her, and the next logical step was marriage. She hadn’t wanted the love. She hadn’t wanted the marriage, but she’d succumbed to her emotions and faced her fears. And Quinn couldn’t do the same for her.
Piper swiped at the tears, remembering she’d done this to herself. She allowed a man into her life who she knew would change it. She hadn’t stopped it, hadn’t run in the other direction. She’d allowed each kiss, each look, and each touch to affect her in ways she’d sworn off. But she couldn’t be mad at Quinn. He caught her like she’d feared. Impaled her heart and soul without even realizing it.
She rocked back and forth, clutching her knees to her chest. Piper had feared love. Love was selfish. But a much bigger fear became known when Quinn had walked out the door. With everything he had done to break down her walls, with everything she had overcome to allow him into her heart, he wasn’t willing to do the same for her.
The tears came again, the choking sobs racking her chest.
It’s just as well that her question—her need of marriage—drove him away. In the end, she would have lost him anyway. Better now than later, when losing him would surely kill her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Piper spent the next week in solid haze. She could hardly think, let alone remember to breathe.
She’d had to do the presentation on Quinn’s grandpa’s foundation by herself. She’d had to answer questions from Mitch and Gavin and a gazillion other people about where Quinn had been. She’d had to put up her front and pretend that she didn’t care he was called away on business. She’d had to pretend she was okay, smiling and laughing with people she didn’t really know. She’d gracefully ignored their questions, their probing into her personal life. Which she’d found was much harder without Quinn by her side. He’d been her rock, she realized, making her want to do and say things she’d never felt comfortable doing or saying before. And she’d let him go. Because she’d needed more. So much more than he could give.
Las Vegas, the City of Sin, surrounded by all her cohorts living life, had been the last place she’d wanted to be. She’d wanted to be at home, tucked into the bowels of her funeral home, working with the dead. The dead didn’t speak. The dead didn’t feel.
And now, a week after she’d returned from that ghastly place, she was sitting in her living room…alone, clutching one of the Until Next Time medals between her fingers. It was all she had left of him. That and the thorny stem still perched in one of her plants on her windowsill. She shouldn’t keep them. They had to go. Every time she looked at them, every time she ran her fingers over the cool metal, all she could think about was Quinn’s calm gaze, the breath of his laughter in her ear, the warmth of his smile, the glitter of his impossibly light eyes.
Two weeks spent without him. And it felt more like a lifetime. How had she managed to screw up her life? Her plans? Quinn had certainly never been a part of her plans. And neither was the radiating ache beneath her rib cage. She rubbed at it, willing it desperately to go away.
Shaking her head, she padded over to the door, tucking the medallion deep into the pocket of her jeans. With her head still in a fog, she shuffled downstairs, past Margo sitting at Jessica’s desk, barely registering the girl’s friendly hello. Piper thought she managed a wave or smile or something, but she wasn’t sure.
She headed to her retreat, as grisly as that sounded. It was the only place she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel. She could surround herself in her work, with the dead, and not worry about the living. Maneuvering her way down the stairs, flicking on lights as she passed through the main door to the prep area, Piper breathed a sigh of relief. Her second home. Her sad second home.
Suddenly looking with new eyes, she didn’t see comfort in the chill metal tables, muted walls, tools, or chipping paint. She didn’t see a dead man lying on her table in need of a comforting touch. She saw a room clouded with despair and sadness. A place where people shouldn’t smile or laugh. A place that was dark and dingy. A place where she was achingly gloomy—a feeling she’d never felt in this area of her home.
She tried to snap herself back to attention. She needed her focus, her brain to filter out all the stuff she’d trained it to filter out over the years. But as she gathered up the items to prepare Mr. Williams for his eternal rest, her brain didn’t filter. A heavy mist rolled into her senses, clogging up anything and everything she’d ever known, anything she’d ever taught herself, and brought the feelings of death and loss right down on her shoulders.
Barely able to concentrate on the task at hand, she ambled through the motions, feeling sick to her stomach. She had to wash the body twice, swearing she’d forgotten to add the proper solution to the first water basin. And why couldn’t she find the skin
salve? Blinking back tears that pricked her eyes, she hooked him up to her machine and plopped back on her high stool, letting her head crack back against the concrete wall.
Her memories drifted from Quinn to her parents to Steven, colliding in her head like a disastrous train wreck. What she’d lived through, and sadly, what she’d done to herself. The world as she’d seen it spun around her, making her vision crack at the possibilities of all she missed…of all she’d lost.
What would she do if she couldn’t see Quinn again? His bright eyes? That soft laugh that was reserved solely for her? He hadn’t called, hadn’t tried to contact her. Not that she’d expected him to. Her heart thundered beneath her ribs as she gazed down at Mr. Williams. She would end up like this man on her table. No family. No friends. No one who cared.
Isn’t that what she’d wanted in life?
Not to feel? Not to live? It was safer that way.
Yes, she had done herself a favor by admitting her love for Quinn and then requesting he do the one thing she knew he wouldn’t do to keep her. It had been the only way to show him how much she cared, yet allow herself that escape she so desperately needed. Her decision had forced her to push away only the second man she’d ever loved.
It was better this way. The pain of losing him wouldn’t go away, she knew. It would linger, breaking her concentration and thoughts now and again. In time, it would fade. But it would never go away. And she was prepared for that. It was better to deal with losing him now than allowing their love to blossom further and having him ripped from her in tragedy. That would surely kill her.
“Much more time hooked up to that embalming liquid and your guy’s going to look like an overstuffed turkey,” a familiar voice called out.
Piper bolted from the chair, knocking it over. Her head swung to Gavin, standing by the door, his smile careful. Her attention flicked back to the body on the table. Mr. Williams was a good five sizes larger than he was when he’d been wheeled in. Bloated to the extreme.
Until Next Time Page 28