Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Two

by Lydia Rowan

  “Deservedly so it seems.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments, both tentative as he prepared to speak, but then the door swung open and in walked neighbor Joe. He zeroed in on Quinn instantly, and Alexander’s hackles were raised, increasingly so as he strode over to them like a man on a mission. He stopped and looked at Quinn, deliberately ignoring Alexander and making no attempt to hide that fact.

  “You still good, Q?” he asked as he placed a paw on her shoulder.

  “I’m fine, Joe. Thanks for asking,” she said as she placed a hand atop his.

  “We’re in the middle of something here, Joe.” Alexander interrupted the love fest. “Quinn can talk to you some other time.” Or never, he thought but left that unspoken.

  Joe didn’t miss the challenge in Alexander’s worse and turned to face him.

  “I think she can decide that.”

  “She’s sitting here. With me. I think she already has.”

  “Look, you mot—”

  “Jesus, Joe, leave these people alone and get the hell out of my way,” Verna cut in as she approached the table carrying a tray laden with plates.

  Immediately, Joe’s gaze flicked to Verna, the anger that had been directed at him fully trained on her briefly before it morphed into some other unreadable emotion that looked like anger but wasn’t, not completely anyway.

  “Thank you, Joe. I’ll call you later, okay?” Quinn said quietly as Verna unloaded the plates onto the table.

  Joe nodded at Quinn. “Well hurry up, Verna. I ne—”

  “I know, you ‘need to feed your machine.’ You can always leave if you’re in such a rush, but I doubt you’re that generous, so just take a seat, and I’ll be right with you,” Verna said, tone somewhere between scorn, teasing, and people pleasing born of years of customer service.

  Joe nodded and left without another word.

  “Did I ever thank you for bringing that into my life, Quinn?”

  “What can I say? I’m a giver. And the pleasure was all mine,” Quinn said sweetly as she batted her eyelashes.

  “Whatever. Okay, so two stacks, two orders of bacon, extra crispy, and a couple of fruit cups. I also left extra coffee and water. Now you two don’t leave this table until you work this shit out. My godson needs you.”

  “Sometime this week, Verna!” Joe said, not raising his voice, but still apparently loud enough to make Verna turn on her heel and walk in the direction opposite him.

  “Do they always act like that?” he asked.

  “On no. This is Verna’s job, so they’re both on their best behavior. You should see them in private.”

  “Wow. Cats and dogs, I suppose.”

  “More like dogs and dogs actually. I think they’re too damned alike to ever get along. But if push came to shove, he’d have her back and she’d have his. And they both have mine and vice versa.”

  “And Ethan’s?”

  “Always.”

  “I was wondering…”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Ill considered as they were, you obviously had your reasons for keeping me in the dark, so why did you come clean? I had no idea and it wasn’t even something I’d thought about even once. But you were forthcoming. Why?”

  He watched the play of emotions on her face as she considered the question. After several moments and what looked to him like a fortifying sip of coffee, she sighed and responded, “I wish I could say I saw your face and realized the deep error of my ways.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “A little.” She squinted and held her fingers about a quarter of an inch apart. “But mostly, it was damage control.”

  He raised a brow in question.

  “I don’t presume I’m an interesting topic of conversation normally, but my pregnancy, my unmarried pregnancy, was quite the hot news for a while. It seemed likely that it would have come up, even in passing conversation. I mean, if you’re in Geneva, there’s no reason to mention me, but I’m sure the C-level had tons of schmoozing planned, and those guys are a bunch of gossipy hens. It would have been irresistible. And yes, even in this day and age, at least here anyway, one of the ‘good,’ ‘respectable’ ones like me getting into ‘trouble’ makes tongues wag.”

  Alexander heard the derision in her voice. It was clear this was something that Quinn had considered—and been angered by—before.

  “I can hear it now, ‘Oh, that girl who did the pitch with you, Mr. Montague. Well, she went and got herself in the family way. A shame too, she seemed like such a nice girl.’” She looked off toward the dining room, a furrow marring her brow.

  “You’re a reasonably bright man.” She smiled, though it was strained and bit weak. “So I assumed you’d have figured it out eventually. I weighed the options, and it seemed like coming clean and managing your reaction was the best call. That was all it was. Good, old-fashioned damage control,” she ended bitterly, and he couldn’t quite tell who that bitterness was directed at.

  “That is pretty fucking mercenary, Quinn. I wouldn’t have thought you had that in you.”

  She scoffed. “I wouldn’t have, either. But the things we do for love, or I guess in this case, out of fear. And, since we’re being honest, I don’t know that I would have, told you, I mean, if I’d had more time to think about it. More likely, I’d have come down with a mysterious case of avian flu and made myself scarce until you were gone, kept my head down like the coward that I am, and lied to myself the whole time, pretending it was to protect Ethan and not because of my own weakness.”

  Before he realized he’d moved, he reached across the table and covered her hand with his, the warmth from the coffee mug brushing against his fingers. His mind raced with conflicting emotions, torn between his rage and the need to comfort her, to wipe the tortured look from her eyes and restore the light that had been there when she’d captured him those months ago.

  “Doubtful that you could have kept me away. I’m pretty determined when I set my mind to something, Quinn.”

  He heard both the threat and the promise in his words, saw the instant Quinn recognized it as well and could practically hear the thoughts churning in her head. It was time to refocus.

  “We didn’t finish that conversation last night.”

  Quinn blinked and shook her head slightly, clearly caught off balance as he’d intended.

  “What conversation?”

  “I told you I wanted to know everything. And I meant it. So what happened after you found out you were pregnant, halfheartedly attempted to inform me, and then decided to go it alone?” he asked as he reached back and began cutting his pancakes, uncaring of the derision in his words. And surprisingly, she didn’t argue the point.

  “The pregnancy itself was relatively easy. At least physically. I got tired pretty early on and stayed that way the whole time. Oh, and my legs were so swollen, but other than a little nausea, not much else happened. I got it in my head that I needed to find a house, so most of my emotional energy went to finding a place I could afford in a good neighborhood with good schools, close to work, et cetera, and Thornehill Springs seemed like a good choice. It’s close to the city, but still has that small-town feel that I wanted for the baby. I found my place during my seventh month. The owner, who I later found out was one of Joe’s military buddies, needed to sell fast and close fast, so it all worked out.

  “The job was a little awkward. I mean, this is still the South, and like I said, I’m sure certain of the higher-ups had feelings about an unwed mother, but I made sure to be even better, not give them an excuse to see me differently, which would have morphed into an excuse to let me go.”

  “And is it working?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. Not like I have a choice, mind you, but I just miss him so much, and even though he’s with Ma or Verna, it’s just not the same as being able to touch him, see all the little things he does during the day. So I struggle. And after everything that happened with the birth, I’ve only been able to convince myself t
hat it was okay to go back in the last month.”

  “What do you mean? What happened with the birth?”

  He knew they were fine, but the sudden tension in Quinn’s shoulders, the way she gripped the coffee mug tighter and looked away, had him on full alert.

  “I was in my eighth month, tired as all hell, so I was napping on the couch, which was all it seemed like I did in those last few weeks. Verna was upstairs, futzing with the nursery. I felt something, realized my water had broken, which was very, very wrong. I called her down, and she looked at me, and in all the years I’ve know that woman, I’ve never seen such terror on her face.

  “I said call 9-1-1, but she ran and got Joe instead. He rushed us to the hospital, and it’s all sort of a blur. The doctors said that though my water had broken, my contractions were weak to nonexistent—I didn’t feel any—so they tried to induce them. But Ethan, stubborn bugger that he is, wasn’t budging, so they had to do a C-section. Told me that he’d probably be okay, but that there could be issues, especially with his lungs.”

  Quinn’s voice cracked, and he could see the tears gathering in her eyes. He reached over, removed the coffee mug from her hands, and then entwined her fingers in his.

  “But he was all right?”

  “Yes. They kept him in an incubator for a couple days, but he was fine. It’s funny because even when he was inside me, he felt abstract, like an idea, but seeing him, his tiny little body, realizing that I could have lost him… Even the thought of it gives me chills.”

  Alexander pulled his hand away, a mix of fear at his powerlessness and anger that he’d been back in Geneva doing who knew what while his son was in mortal danger coursing through him. He knew he’d have to get over this, move past it and into the future, but he also knew it would take time.

  Until then, he’d just have to keep trying.

  “I’m sor—”

  He raised a hand to halt her speech.

  “I know. You’re sorry. And I’m trying to accept that, but it’s hard and I can’t promise that I won’t hold it against you. But, I’m going to be a part of my son’s life.”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “And for the moment, I think the best way to do that is if I stay with you.”

  “In my house?”

  “Yes. It’s the only way.”

  As he said the words, he was more and more convinced, but he left unsaid what was in his heart and in head, though masked by his anger at her deception. He wanted them both.

  “Well no, it’s not. People share custody all the time.”

  “Occasional weekend visits? No. I’ve missed too much already. I won’t miss any more. Don’t fight me on this, Quinn. You won’t like the alternative.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Alexander,” she said, her eyes narrowing and the corners of her mouth drawing tight.

  “No threats, Quinn. I will do whatever it takes to be with him. Tell me you wouldn’t.”

  “I would,” she said with conviction.

  “Then let me.”

  “I’m not convinced, Alexander, but you’re right. It’s a deal. You can stay. Temporarily.”

  She stuck out a hand, which he grabbed and shook.

  “Deal.”

  Chapter Seven

  Over the next several weeks, they fell into a routine. She worked from home as much as she could, and her boss Rich didn’t seem to have a problem with it. She suspected Alexander had something to do with that, though she didn’t ask. She knew Ethan’s paternity had been a discussed and unresolved topic around the office and was slightly mortified at what her coworkers might think, but she had bigger fish to fry at the moment, so she just went with it.

  And then one day, she realized that sometime while she hadn’t been looking, he’d fully ingrained himself into her and Ethan’s world.

  “You didn’t have to come this today, Lily,” Alexander said early one morning as Quinn was getting dressed. She and Verna still came by often, but Alexander was taking more and more of a role everyday and was reluctant to leave Ethan when he had free time. Quinn headed down the stairs but stopped when she heard her mother’s response.

  “I know, Alexander, but you said you had a meeting and Quinn is going in this morning, so I wanted to help.”

  “Thank you. But the meeting is over the phone and besides, they work for me so I can reschedule if I need to. And I don’t want you to miss bridge club.”

  Quinn smiled at the thought of her bridge-obsessed mother having had the chance to rejoin the club she’d had to drop to help Quinn.

  “Well…if you’re sure you’re okay…”

  “I am. Now go.”

  “Okay. Bye, sweetie pie,” she heard her mother say, hopefully to the baby. And then, “It’s rude to eavesdrop, Quinn Elizabeth. Come down and say good-bye.”

  Quinn laughed and descend the stairs. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?” she said as she hugged her mother.

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  “Have fun at bridge. I’ll call you later.”

  “All right. Talk to you later, kids, and I hope Linda Jones is there. I owe her for last time,” she said as she headed toward the door, clearly gleeful at the prospect of vengeance.

  “Don’t get arrested over a card game, okay, Ma?”

  “I make no promises,” she said and closed the door.

  Alexander laughed. “It is serious, this bridge game, huh?”

  “Oh, of solemn importance,” she said as she moved toward the kitchen, “at least to my mother anyway. I just don’t have the heart to tell her it’s the most boring game on the planet. Like superboring. Like more boring than solitaire. But she loves it for some reason.”

  Quinn sighed.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s just…I’ve always been appreciative of what she and Verna did—do—for me, how much they help out with Ethan. I guess I just never realized how much it costs them. Verna works more than any human should, and my mom’s retired for God’s sake. She should play bridge whenever she wants, not be stuck cleaning up after me. But they both did it without hesitation or complaint, and I didn’t even really notice. I am officially the worst,” she said as she leaned against the counter.

  “Yeah, you are pretty bad.”

  She cut him a hard glare. “You don’t have to agree with me, you know.”

  “I know, but I’m just saying, you fuc”—he looked over at Ethan, who sat in his bouncy seat, and lowered his voice—“messed up. You’re doing better. Don’t beat yourself up.”

  “How Zen of you.”

  “Tell me about it. Sometimes, I get so mad at you it takes my breath away, but I’ll get over it eventually. And you won’t ever, ever do anything like that again. So if this whole mess has made you appreciate the people around you more and me being here makes their lives a little easier, then accept the benefit and move on.”

  Reaching up, she laid the back of her palm across his forehead and then slid her hand down his face to cup his cheek.

  “Well, you don’t have a fever, so you definitely need to lay off the Dr. Phil.”

  Alexander smiled and turned his head a bit, rubbing his beard-roughened cheek against her palm. Tiny pinpricks of sensation where the hair abraded her palm shot up her arm and almost instantly, memories of the feel of that bristled cheek against her neck, against her breasts, grating her inner thigh filled her mind. The mug she held wobbled in her hand, and Alexander reached out to grab her wrist, the weight of his cheek on her palm and his hand on her wrist, creating twin points of sensation that spiraled through her body and converged at her core, instantly making her pulse with need. He leaned toward her, scraping his cheek down her arm, the combination of his beard and his warm breath leaving goose bumps in their wake. Her brown gaze locked with his, and she could see the swirling emotion, the heat, there. He was going to kiss her. Any second his lips would close over hers, and she’d feel his touch again, not in the anger that had been so prevalent, rather in the passion
that had brought them together, that had created a life…

  “Your coffee’s getting cold,” he said, lips a hairsbreadth away from hers, his gaze, so alive an instant ago, now unreadable.

  She pulled back as if electrocuted.

  “Yeah. Um…yeah. I’d planned to go to the office today, but do you need me?”

  “No. We have plans,” he said, his eyes lighting up with his smile. “See this?” He pointed to the three-wheeled stroller off in the living room that she hadn’t noticed until now.

  “A jogging stroller, right?”

  “Yes. It’s lighter and easier to maneuver, so we’re going for a jog.”

  A parade of horribles marched through her mind.

  “Oh…well, be careful. I mean, don’t crash. And watch out for dogs. Some people are so inconsiderate and don’t leash them like they should. Oh, and make sure he wears a hat. And try to keep him covered but make sure he doesn’t get too hot. And don’t lose the house key I gave you because no one will be here to let you in.”

  “Quinn…” he said, drawing out the word.

  “Fine, fine. I know you are ‘more than capable of taking care of your son.’ You’ve said it enough anyway.”

  He threw her an irritated glare.

  “And don’t use my baby to pick up chicks,” she couldn’t help but toss out, half joking, half fearing he would.

  “I have no interest in picking up chicks. But if I did, I wouldn’t need a baby to do it as you well know.”

  His cocky smirk took some of the sting out of the words, but still, she responded, “Ugh, whatever. I’m going to work. Behave.”