by Lydia Rowan
Alexander looked at her, his brows raised slightly but his expression not giving anything away otherwise.
Finally, after a moment, he said, “I’m staying here.”
Chapter Five
Quinn thought—hoped—she’d misheard him, but one look confirmed that he had indeed said he was staying here.
In her house.
With her.
That couldn’t happen for a variety of reasons that seemed obvious. At least to her anyway. Another glance at Alexander and Quinn knew he was determined. Still, she couldn’t just fold on this. Resolved, she turned to face him fully, steeling herself against what she knew would be his ultimate rejection of her attempt at all-out persuasion.
“No. You can’t stay here, Alexander. No. I won’t allow it.”
“Seriously, this is a terrible idea,” she said an hour later as she finished making up the futon that also served as the guest bed that she’d set up in her home office. He remained infuriatingly quiet, as he had during each of her attempts to explain why his staying just wasn’t possible. He’d rebuffed her excuses—correction, explanations—like he was swatting away flies, and he reminded her so much of the man she’d first met in Geneva.
At some point, much to her disgust, she hadn’t had the will to keep up the fight, so she’d finally acquiesced, while making it clear that he’d be in the guest room. It seemed an unnecessary stipulation. Alexander hadn’t expressed even a hint of interest, not that she could blame him given the circumstances, but saying the words out loud had felt essential. Hell, maybe she just needed to remind herself, and her sex-starved body, that he was off-limits.
“And don’t look so smug about it,” she said with a mutinous eye roll as she walked over to the closet. “Here are some sweats that should fit.”
“I don’t want to wear some other man’s clothes, Quinn,” he said gruffly, the first he’d spoken for a long while.
She looked back at him and sighed, suspecting she knew the source of this hesitation. “The clothes aren’t Joe’s, Alexander.” The slight relaxation of his tense jaw proved she’d hit the mark. “And for your information, Joe and I have not previously, are not now, and will not in the future be anything more than friends.”
She reached into the closet and pulled out the shirt and pants that she’d, not that she’d admit it to him, treasured and worn religiously, especially during her pregnancy. Then, after Ethan had been born, she’d decided she needed to move on, or at least stop actively wearing his clothes as a first step in moving on, so she’d tucked them in the closet, still unwilling to throw them away completely.
“Look familiar?” she asked as she handed the bundled clothing over and was rewarded with one of his few genuine smiles of the day that hadn’t been directed at Ethan.
“I wondered where those went. Glad to see you couldn’t bear to part with them,” he said with the smile still on his face and now in his voice.
She returned the smile and stuck out her tongue, laughing at his exhaled chuckle as she walked past him and toward the door. But before she could leave, his hand on her arm stilled her.
“Thank you,” he said when she looked up at him.
She almost melted at the sincerity in his words and in his gaze and quickly shuffled out of the room before he could see the emotion he’d stirred.
Damned hormones, she thought as she shuffled down the short hall to her bedroom and flopped down on the bed. This situation sucked, but in truth, she felt relieved, happy that everything had been exposed. She’d focus on that relief now and worry about the fallout that she was sure would continue later.
••••
After Quinn had left, Alexander lowered himself into her office chair and closed his eyes. It was hard to believe that just a day ago he’d been on a plane plotting their reunion, thoughts of what he wanted to do to her, with her, filling his head. But in the short space of twenty-four hours, he’d started the day finding out that he had a son and ended it by effectively moving in. Crazy, but there were still things to be done. He sat up and fired off an e-mail to his assistant, informing him of his location and asking him to deliver items he’d need during his stay.
Then he stared at his phone, hesitating to make the next call, but knowing it was inevitable. It was ten thirty, so it’d be four thirty in Geneva, early enough that he could plausibly say that the call could wait. Cowardly, perhaps, but after the day he’d had, he wasn’t up for more emotional confrontation, so he’d leave it to later.
As he shed his suit, he looked around the small, tidy room. Quinn had set up an office space and futon, but the room had a bit of a barren look and lacked the warmth of the rest of the house, giving the room a feeling of neglect. But at least, he hoped, that meant she got to spend more time with Ethan, not cloistered in her office while he was left with various caretakers. Something else he’d need to discuss with her.
Not bothering with modesty, he walked across the hall and into the bathroom. There were few signs of Quinn in the room, but he could see Ethan everywhere, from the green plastic miniature bathtub that was shaped like a frog to the cheery little cloud and star shapes pasted on the shower walls. His heart seized at the thought of all of the days and nights he’d missed.
And then immediately soared at the thought of those he had to look forward to.
The thoughts of teaching Ethan how to ski, teaching him the family business, maybe helping him discover his own love of architecture, pushed him through his shower and continued as he returned to the office, donned his clothes, surprised by how happy he was that she’d kept them. He lay on the futon, where, despite its relatively cramped quarters, he almost immediately fell into a deep sleep.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Mommy’s here,” Quinn said in a soft, soothing voice.
The murmured words, muffled but still discernible, followed by a thin, hollow cry, woke him, and for a moment, he wondered how Quinn had gotten into his house and whether this was a dream. The events of the day came flooding back, and he rose from the futon and followed the sound of Quinn’s voice to the nursery. He found her there, sitting in the mint-green glider holding Ethan close to her chest, a bottle in his mouth, both of them illuminated by the soft light rising from the small lamp that sat on a dresser in the corner of the room. Though he couldn’t see her eyes, her love of Ethan shone through in the way she lovingly stroked his tiny fist, the way she whispered soft words of comfort.
It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and with stunning clarity, he knew that they, Quinn and Ethan, were his family, that he’d do whatever it took to keep them together. That, despite everything that had happened, he loved them.
Both of them.
He must have made a noise, for Quinn looked up, the startled fright in her eyes turning to warmth.
“It’s like clockwork. He wants a bottle every morning at 2:47. I could set a watch by it.”
“Not surprising. He is Swiss, after all,” he said as he walked across the room and settled on the floor next to the glider.
“I’d let you feed him, but he’ll have a little meltdown if I dare take this bottle away.”
“No. Please finish. I don’t want to upset his routine. Well, not too much anyway.”
She nodded. “He’ll fall asleep pretty soon.”
And as she’d said, a few minutes later, after struggling to keep his eyes open, Ethan finally stopped fighting and fell asleep, lips still curled around the bottle. Quinn looked up, the soft, loving smile still on her face, and he was sure her expression reflected his own. She stood and settled Ethan on his back in his crib, gently stroking his hair before she drifted out of the room.
Stirred by the emotion he couldn’t yet express but did not dare deny, he followed her and reached out to grab her hand. She stopped at the contact but didn’t pull away, and after a moment, he pulled her into an embrace, crushing her body against his, dangerously aware of the weight of her breasts against his chest, her soft belly against his cock. But more than anythi
ng, the feel of her finally, after so long apart, back in his arms. Back where she belonged.
He pulled back and placed a kiss on her forehead, the brush of his skin against hers a faint whisper. “Good night, Quinn.”
Chapter Six
Awareness hit Quinn like a bolt of lightning and she sat up in bed, certain she’d overslept. A glance at the clock confirmed her worry, and she hopped out of bed, clad only in her sleep T-shirt, and scurried across the hall to the nursery, not even stopping to put on slippers. Ethan wasn’t in his crib, but the sound of her mother’s singing floating up from downstairs allayed any concern before it could arise. She’d taken him down for his morning diaper change and bottle, no doubt.
The door to the guest room was closed, and she figured Alexander still slept, the combination of the flight and the tumultuous day yesterday understandably fatiguing. She couldn’t blame the guy; she’d be happy to crawl back under the covers, too, but the day awaited, so she fired off a quick e-mail—no way was she going work today—and took a short shower and dressed before rushing downstairs, excited to see her munchkin.
Her mother sat at the dining room table with her tablet, deeply engrossed in a game of bridge, a steaming mug of tea and a half-eaten bagel sitting in front of her.
“Morning, Ma,” she said as she leaned down and kissed her mother’s cheek, certain the display of affection would in no way stave off this talk, another she’d desperately wanted to avoid.
“Hey, baby. Get your coffee and come sit a spell.”
She obeyed, still on automatic pilot, when the unnatural silence of the room, the coos and wails that had become the soundtrack of her life were absent.
“Where’s Ethan, Ma?”
“He’s out for a walk with his father.”
“What! When? Where? Why would you let him leave without telling me?” she asked, practically screaming.
“Don’t take that tone with me, Quinn Elizabeth Jeffries. The man took his baby for a walk; it needn’t be an international incident.”
“But…”
“But what? I know I raised you better than to sleep with a man you don’t trust. Then again, I don’t know what to think after yesterday.”
Quinn’s heart raced, and the mix of sadness at disappointing her mother blending with the adrenaline that had flooded through her at the spike of fear, creating a sick, panicky feeling in her stomach. She passed on the coffee and sat down in the chair opposite her mother.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Ma. I always need to know where my son is,” Quinn said, her voice still pitched with anger, though she was no longer yelling.
“And Alexander doesn’t? You told me Ethan’s father didn’t want to be involved, but that poor man didn’t even know about him. And you have the nerve to complain because he’s going for a walk. Hell, he’d be within his rights to leave and not come back.”
Shock at her mother’s words froze the air in her lungs. And the disapproving look in her eyes kept it there. Her parents had always looked at her with pride, their affection for their only child undeniable either by her or by the world.
But not now. Now her mother looked at her as if she were some lower being. Back when she’d found out that she was pregnant, she’d worried what her mother would think, but those worries had been unfounded. Ma hadn’t chided or criticized; she’d just asked about the father, whether he’d be around. And she’d been completely supportive throughout, going so far as to give up her bridge club and other activities to keep Ethan after Quinn had to return to work.
She looked at her mother again, and the censure still in those familiar, previously loving eyes, turned the shock to tears, which pooled in her eyes and flowed down her cheeks.
“No, Quinn. The time for crying is past. What are you going to do?” Her tone was rough, but the soft pat to the back of her hand provided a little comfort.
“So this is tough love?” Quinn said through sniffles.
“Not hardly. And you know I’m always in your corner. No matter what. But what you did was wrong, and I can’t pretend otherwise. And you know I wouldn’t let him take Ethan if there was a chance something could happen.”
“I know.”
“So what are you going to do, Queenie-beanie?”
After a laugh at the sound of her daddy’s old nickname for her, which she hadn’t heard in years, Quinn remained silent, considering. But before she could respond, she heard the front door open.
“That must be your boys. I think you two need to talk. You can’t take back what you did, Quinn, but you owe it to your son to allow his father in his life. And I talked to Alexander a little this morning. He’s a good man, and frankly, he’s handled this better than anyone I know ever would. Meet him halfway. Meet him more than halfway.”
She nodded, letting her mother’s words soak in a moment before she stood and headed to the foyer. Alexander looked exquisite in a light gray sweater and dark slacks, his face shaven and smooth but his hair, longer than it’d been when she’d first seen him, unruly. The sight of him pulled her in as it always had, but the way he held Ethan, secure yet tenderly against his chest made her feel something she’d didn’t yet want to examine more deeply.
“Good morning, Alexander,” she said. Followed by, “Morning, munchkin,” she said with her arms outstretched. Alexander handed Ethan to her, and she rained kissed on his sweet-smelling head. “You been outside for a walk? Your dad…daddy took you for a walk?”
Ignoring her stumble over that particular word, Quinn looked at Alexander and smiled.
“Looking good, Montague. Is there a men’s fine clothing store in the neighborhood that I missed?”
“No, I had someone deliver a few essentials.”
“I see. I must have slept harder than I thought. Um…do you have plans this morning?”
“Other than spending time with Ethan, no.”
“Do you mind if we talk somewhere privately?” She tilted her head toward Ethan.
“No.”
“Okay. Let’s grab breakfast. Ma,” she said as she walked toward the dining room, “would you mind watching him for a couple of hours? Alexander and I need a few minutes.”
“Of course I’ll watch him. I can’t very well play bridge without my partner, can I?” she said as she took Ethan from Quinn’s arms. “Take as long as you need and work this out.”
“I’ll call if it’s going to be too long,” she said as she headed back to the foyer and grabbed her keys and purse.
“You can leave your keys. I’ll drive.”
“Drive wha…?”
Quinn’s words died in her throat when Alexander opened the door to reveal a massive luxury SUV parked on the curb. Apparently his “necessities” included a hundred-thousand-dollar car.
“If you’re trying to impress me, Montague, it’s working,” she said as they walked toward the truck.
“And all this time, I thought it was just my looks.”
“Well, they don’t hurt,” she said, happy to have even a taste of playful banter that hadn’t seemed possible yesterday.
“Quinn, can you look at something?” Alexander beckoned her to the backseat.
“Is this a good car seat for Ethan? I had them install one, but I don’t know if it’s appropriate.”
Quinn ducked her head in to look and then stood in excitement, almost hitting her head in the process. “Ohmygod! Alexander, this is the holy grail of baby seats! They don’t even carry it in most stores, and if they do, it’s just there for us mere mortals to drool over. Yeah, I think it’ll work.”
As they settled in the car, a smiled played at his lips.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s just,” he laughed, “I’ve never seen anyone so excited about a baby seat. I don’t think you were that happy to see a natural treasure like the Jura Mountains.”
She joined his laughter. “I know right? Purses, jewelry, cars, a minor reaction, but when I found a brand of diapers that both functioned and was environmentally c
onscious, I almost threw a parade.”
“He changed you that much?” Alexander asked, voice more somber now.
“Yes, he did.”
After a moment, he asked, “Where are we going?”
“My friend Verna—I assume she at least gave you a once-over yesterday?—she runs a café. Best breakfast in town. It’s about five miles down Maple. I can drive if you’d like.”
“No, I need to get familiar with the area anyway.”
“Oh…okay,” Quinn said, not missing the implication of those words.
••••
Alexander turned into the half-full parking lot as Quinn had directed, and they hopped out of the car and walked into a squat, tan brick building adorned with a sign proclaiming Love’s Cafeteria. The interior was cozier than he’d expected based on the outside, and though the space was large and only at about half capacity, he could see that the business was thriving. Quinn walked across the polished concrete floors and pointed toward a booth at the back of the room.
“Is this okay? It’s where I usually sit.”
“It’s fine,” he said.
A few moments later, Verna, the woman he’d seen at Quinn’s house yesterday walked over wearing a half apron, baggy jeans, and a T-shirt with the café’s name and logo and unceremoniously dropped a gigantic mug with steam rising from it in front of Quinn.
“That looks like a full-stack face, Quinn,” she said with a commiserating smile before turning to him. “And can I get you anything?”
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
“Coffee, too?”
He nodded.
“Coming up,” she said.
“Thanks, V,” Quinn mumbled as Verna walked away.
“Cute place. Great structural design inside given the austere interior,” he said, feeling like an idiot teenager. He was sitting across from the woman who was the mother of his child, and he was making chitchat about architecture.
Remarkably, Quinn seemed to brighten at the topic. “Yeah, this is one of the first places I ever did. The café is a pillar of Thornehill Springs and the surrounding community, and they did the refurb, oh, seven years ago. Verna insisted that I head the project. I was fresh out of school and didn’t know anything, so ARc was understandably resistant. But she wouldn’t budge, and they couldn’t very well tell her no, so I did it. It was tough too, because her folks didn’t want to tear down and start from scratch, even though I explained about a hundred times that it’d be cheaper and easier. But they were adamant, so there was a ton of retrofitting and redesign that I had to do within the confines of the existing space. I did it, though, and things kinda took off for me after that.”