‘I bought a bottle of wine.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I thought...’
He looked delightfully nonplussed. She shifted from one foot to the other and then finally nodded. ‘A glass of wine would be lovely.’
They sat beside the dying embers of the fire and sipped wine, staring up into the majesty of a glittering sky. She knew he was still curious about her and her history, but he’d be too polite to ask again. Well, she had questions of her own, and if she talked first maybe he’d open up to her too.
She crossed her fingers.
‘I discovered I was pregnant in the time between graduating high school and the start of the university academic year.’ Though he didn’t move, she sensed she had his full attention. ‘To say it was a shock is an understatement. For everyone.’
‘You didn’t consider an abortion?’
‘Sure I did. I was only eighteen. I was supposed to have my whole life in front of me. I had plans. Plans a baby would interfere with.’
‘But?’
With his non-judgemental attitude, Aidan would make a very good politician. She wondered if he realised that. ‘But my parents and Phillip’s parents insisted I have an abortion.’
‘And that got your back up?’
‘Oh, yes. I sometimes wonder if I only went ahead with the pregnancy just to spite them.’ She glanced at him. ‘That’s not a very edifying thought, is it?’
‘And not something I believe for a minute.’
She smiled at the fire. Maybe not. There’d been a part of her that had started loving the child inside her the minute she’d found out she was carrying it. A part of her she hadn’t been able to ignore.
‘Did Phillip want you to have an abortion too?’
She sipped her wine and then leaned back on one hand. ‘Actually, he was really good. He didn’t pressure me at all. He was a reasonable human being back then.’ She had hopes he’d become one again. ‘He said he’d stick by me whatever my decision. I didn’t find out for another three years that he’d hoped I’d choose the abortion.’ That had been the same night he’d accused her of ruining his life.
‘As I believe I mentioned before, my parents cut me off completely when I refused to obey their ultimatum. They thought it’d bring me to heel, but it didn’t. Phillip’s parents weren’t quite so harsh, but they counselled him to go to university as planned and to have minimal contact with me and the baby.’
‘Nice.’
His sarcasm wrung a smile from her. ‘They didn’t cut him off, but they refused to acknowledge me and I wasn’t welcome in their home.’
She crossed her legs. ‘So we moved to Perth. He got a job in a bank as a teller. I did a short office admin course and picked up some temp work until the baby came. Robbie was three months old when I picked up some part-time work as an administrative assistant at the university and we put him into childcare two days a week.’
‘It sounds tough.’
‘Thousands of people do it every year.’ She shot him a smile. ‘It was a challenge to make ends meet, but we were young and...I loved him.’
Aidan didn’t say anything. She glanced at him. ‘Have you been in love?’
He shook his head.
‘It’s wonderful. It gives you wings. It gives you hope. And it can make you very determined. It makes the tough times worthwhile.’ She sipped her wine—a cool, crisp Sauvignon Blanc that slipped down her throat smoothly. ‘But when love goes bad it’s terrible.’
‘I’m sorry it went bad for you, Quinn.’
He earned a big fat Brownie point for not asking why it had gone bad. Her fingers tightened about her glass. If she shared that with him, though, maybe he would share with her. She could only try. ‘Things were going fine until I fell pregnant with Chase. It sounds dreadfully irresponsible, doesn’t it, but we’d used birth control both times I fell pregnant. I’m obviously disgustingly fertile.’
A low rumble left Aidan’s throat. It eased the heaviness that threatened to settle over her.
‘It was too soon for us to have another child.’ And yet she’d felt the same love for it as she had for Robbie.
‘Much too soon for us to have another baby,’ she whispered again, almost to herself.
‘What happened?’
‘Phillip panicked.’ She shrugged. ‘He panicked throughout my pregnancy about how we’d make ends meet. He asked me to have an abortion. I refused. I wanted Robbie to have what I’d never had—a sibling.’ A friend. ‘Phillip kept right on panicking after Chase was born and he never connected with him the way he had with Robbie. I cut back on our expenses as much as I could, but...’
The fire blurred for a moment. Aidan reached over and took her hand. And bless him. He just waited. He didn’t try to hurry her.
‘I discovered his secret bank account. He told me it was his university fund. He hadn’t been panicking about how we’d make ends meet at all. He was panicking that he might have to dip into his university fund.’
Air hissed from between Aidan’s teeth.
‘And then his parents pounced when Phillip was at his weakest.’ She pulled her hand from his. ‘They offered to pay for him to study in London.’
* * *
The night wasn’t really silent—there were the chirrups of night birds and insects, and the occasional crackle from the dying embers, but the night pressed in hard around them. Aidan stared at Quinn and ached for her.
‘So when Chase was four months old, Phillip left.’
Phillip had left her with two small children? One of them just a baby? The jerk had turned his back on his own flesh and blood? ‘The low-life rat scum!’
She gave a small laugh, but the thread of tiredness that stretched through it caught at his heart.
‘So there you have it, Aidan, my sordid little story.’
His chin jerked up. ‘I don’t think it’s sordid.’ Not on her part at least. Phillip was another matter. And so were her parents. The people who were supposed to love her had all let her down, abandoned her. He made a vow to himself then to check out her Aunt Mara. He wasn’t letting anyone else take advantage of Quinn.
That’s not your decision to make.
He ground his teeth together. She was his friend. He’d make it his business.
He started when he realised her glass was empty. He lifted the bottle towards her in a silent question.
She hesitated and then held it out. ‘Half a glass would be lovely.’
‘I think you’ve done a great job with Robbie and Chase, Quinn. They’re great kids. You should be proud of yourself.’
‘Thank you.’
When she smiled at him he had to fight the urge to reach across and place his lips on hers. He closed his eyes and hauled in a breath. Kissing her wouldn’t help. He forced his eyes open again. ‘Do you ever regret the path you chose?’
‘No, I don’t. And I’m sure that’s made things easier.’ She turned to him more fully on the blanket. ‘Remember how I said love makes everything easier?’
He nodded.
‘Well, that goes for all love, not just romantic love. I love the boys with everything I have. They make it all worthwhile.’
Had she had to sacrifice all her dreams, though? ‘What were you going to study at university?’
‘Science. I was a major science geek.’
He recalled the science texts in her car. ‘Is that why you chose to work in a science department at the university?’
‘You bet. It meant I got to live vicariously through the research going on there. It was fun.’
His heart ached at the fierceness of her smile.
‘But enough about me.’ She dusted off her hands. ‘I have a couple of questions of my own.’
He swallowed and shrugged. ‘Ask away. After everything you’ve just shared, the least I can do is answer a couple of questions.’
She laughed and it flowed through him like some kind of energy drink. ‘Careful, you might regret that impulse.’
What was it about her
that could lift his spirits so instantly and comprehensively? ‘Do your worst,’ he dared on a laugh.
Slowly she sobered. She leaned in towards him. ‘Aidan, why are you standing for office if you don’t want to be a politician?’
CHAPTER SIX
AIDAN STARED AT Quinn and reminded himself to keep breathing.
How did she know?
His heart thumped. Perspiration prickled his scalp. He forced himself to sit up straighter and to lean away from her and the temptation of warm lips...of warm woman. ‘Of course I want to be a politician.’
The sparkle in her eyes faded. ‘Uh-huh.’ She set her half glass of wine to one side and started to rise. ‘It’s been a lovely day, but a long one.’
She was going to leave? But she hadn’t finished her wine! He didn’t want the day to end, but he had no intention of talking about this.
‘I hadn’t thought it through properly, but of course you’d be worried I’d take such a story to the papers.’
‘I think no such thing!’
Her face was a study in scepticism. ‘Goodnight, Aidan, sleep tight.’
He scowled. He’d given her and her children a lovely day. Why did she have to push this?
Oh, so this day was more for their benefit than yours, was it?
He scowled harder, but Quinn didn’t see. She was halfway back to her van by now.
And he didn’t want her to go.
‘When my brother died...’
She didn’t turn, but she stopped. She didn’t come back. She waited. He swallowed and tried to match his voice to the quiet of the night. ‘I already told you that Danny’s death devastated my parents.’ A beat passed. ‘Everything changed!’
She came back and sat on the blanket. She didn’t pick up her wine glass. She didn’t touch him. She didn’t say a word.
He wanted her to say something—needed her to—because a lump had lodged in his throat and he couldn’t push past it.
‘What about you, Aidan? You must’ve been devastated too. You obviously loved your brother.’
The warm cadence of her voice helped him to relax, eased his throat muscles. ‘I...’ He ignored his wine to seize a bottle of water. He knocked back a generous swig. ‘You have to understand that Danny was full of life, full of fun. If you were feeling low you could rely on Danny to cheer you up. You always found yourself laughing around him. He was the life of the party without being a party animal.’ He capped the water bottle. ‘When he died it felt like the light had gone out of the world.’
He hadn’t said that out loud before. It wasn’t something designed to cheer his mother or father, or anyone else for that matter. Quinn shuffled closer until their arms and shoulders touched. She took his hand. Strangely, her warmth did give him a measure of comfort.
‘I always wanted a brother or sister. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose one I loved.’
Lost? They hadn’t lost him. He’d been taken from them. Stolen. But it occurred to him then that he had memories Quinn would never have. Memories he could hold tight for the rest of his life. Something inside him shifted and changed focus by several degrees. He wanted to put his arm around her and hug her. He’d lost a brother, but he’d never been alone the way she had been.
‘I was at a loss how to console my parents. Daniel wouldn’t have been.’
She pulled herself up to her full sitting height. He’d slumped so the top of her shoulder almost came to the top of his. Although he should be focusing on other things, he couldn’t help but enjoy the warm slide of her against him.
‘Aidan Fairhall, you can’t know that! You cannot possibly know how much Danny would’ve been affected if circumstances had been reversed. He might’ve gone completely to pieces.’
He shook his head. Danny would’ve known exactly how to comfort their parents. Besides, although none of them had said it out loud, they all knew his parents wouldn’t have needed as much consoling if his and Danny’s positions had been reversed.
That fact could still make him flinch.
Quinn’s hold on his hand hauled him back. ‘What does Danny’s death have to do with you giving up a career you love and becoming a politician?’
He’d been foolish to think this woman had been fully preoccupied with her cross-country move and her two energetic sons. She’d picked up on a lot. Probably too much. ‘Danny was always going to be the politician.’ He moistened his lips. ‘As you probably realise, Fairhalls always stand for office.’
‘Your father, his father and his father before him, yes, but nobody could’ve foreseen what happened to Danny.’
He met her gaze. The light of the fire glimmered in her eyes. ‘The only thing that brought my parents a moment of respite and consolation was my promise to stand for office in Danny’s place.’
Her lips parted. Her eyes and their sympathy burned through him. ‘Oh, Aidan,’ she whispered. ‘Would it have been such a bad thing if it skipped a generation?’
He set his jaw. ‘It might not be my first career choice, and I realise I’m probably going to make a dreadful politician, but—’
‘No you won’t! You’ll be very good at it.’
He closed his eyes.
‘But it’ll be such a tough job if your heart isn’t in it.’
He opened his eyes again. ‘So I’m left with a choice that’s really no choice at all. Either quit politics and break my parents’ hearts all over again or reconcile myself to a job I have no real passion for.’
She swore. It was low and soft, but he caught it all the same and it made him swing towards her, his eyebrows lifting.
‘Sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I just realised I’d made things ten times worse when I suggested you drag your mother into the office to help out with your campaign.’
That had sealed the deal. Not that there’d been much hope of pulling back now anyway. None of that was Quinn’s fault.
‘I think you’re making a big mistake, Aidan.’
He shrugged. When a person got right down to it, what did his happiness count in the greater scheme of things? Besides, he wouldn’t be miserable. He just wouldn’t be following the path he’d choose for himself. It was no biggie.
His shoulders slumped.
‘It wouldn’t all go to hell in a hand basket if you were to retire from the campaign,’ she argued, squeezing his hand. ‘There are people who could step into your shoes, like your second in command.’
He appreciated her efforts, but she didn’t understand how fragile his parents were.
‘And you’re not being fair to Daniel.’
Every muscle he possessed stiffened. He swung to her, a snarl rising up inside him. ‘Not fair to Daniel? When I’m keeping his memory alive?’
She stared at him with wide eyes. She dropped his hand and it left him feeling strangely adrift. ‘We keep our loved one’s memory alive by remembering them and talking about them. Not by making a mockery of what they held dear.’
He bared his teeth. ‘A mockery?’
‘Well, what would you call it?’ Her eyes flashed. ‘He loved politics, yes? While you...you’re just going to grit your teeth and force yourself to go through the motions. How do you think he’d feel about that, huh?’
Bile rose up through him.
‘On a personal level, if he was any kind of brother at all, I bet he’d tell you to do whatever made you happy. On a professional level he would kick your butt for using the job he loved to make yourself and two other people feel marginally better.’
His jaw dropped. His stomach churned.
‘Because he’d know politics is more important than that. Or, at least, that it should be. And he’d also know that you stepping into his shoes wouldn’t bring him back.’
His head rocked back. Wind roared in his ears. His every last defence had been ripped away in one scalding wrench. He struggled to his feet, but he didn’t know what to do once he’d reached them.
Flee?
Stand and fight?
Won’t bring him
back.
What he wanted to do was punch something and then hide in the dark and bawl his goddamn eyes out!
He backed up to lean against a nearby boulder outside the circle of light cast by the dying embers of the fire. Bracing his hands against his knees, he tried to pull air into lungs that didn’t want to work.
He didn’t hear her move, but suddenly she was there, insinuating herself between his legs, her arms going about his shoulders.
He couldn’t help it. His arms went about her and he pulled her against him tight, his face buried in her shoulder.
Won’t bring him back. But he wanted Danny back. He wanted it with his every aching atom, with every single, secret part of himself.
‘You don’t know what it’s like, Quinn.’ His voice came out raw and ragged. ‘The pain...it tears at you from the inside out and you make deals with a God you don’t believe in any more just to make it stop for five minutes. You’ll do anything to try and get it to stop, to ease it a little bit, but...’ Nothing worked. Not for long.
‘I know, baby,’ she crooned, cradling his head against her as she would if he were Chase or Robbie.
Won’t bring him back.
He started to shake. A great hulking sob tore at his throat. Claws, cruel and vicious, raked at the parts of him he’d tried to protect, savage jaws closing about tender flesh as teeth, keen and sadistic, bit at him. A black pit opened up. A great scream roared in his ears. And all he could do was groan in grief and denial as night enclosed him, inside and out.
He didn’t think he would ever be able to find his way out of it—out of the darkness—but faintly, ever so faintly, he heard Quinn’s voice and he tried to focus on it, tried to move towards it. And eventually the shaking eased and the pain moved back a fraction and he could breathe again.
Slowly, the warmth of Quinn, the comfort of holding someone close, of having them hold him close, seeped through, pushing the darkness back further and further.
Finally he lifted his head. He wiped his eyes and said the rudest word he knew. Quinn didn’t flinch. Beyond her, in the sky, he could see a thousand stars.
He swore again. ‘I just bawled like a great big baby, didn’t I?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ She moved to sit beside him. He missed her warmth but he realised then that he’d been the first to let go. ‘You’re not going to come over all macho and tell me real men don’t cry, are you?’
Road Trip with the Eligible Bachelor Page 9