With a Twist

by Martin, Deirdre

  She looked wounded. “Because of me.”

  “Because of us,” Quinn said softly. For someone who worked with words, he was having a hard time coming up with the right ones. “I don’t want to lose you. I just need a few nights a week to myself so I can concentrate on my work.”

  “Let’s say we do that,” said Natalie, sounding reasonable. “Does that mean the nights we are together you’ll turn off your cell phone? Mmm?”

  “I can’t right now,” Quinn said bluntly. “Not until I’m done with this story.”

  “Is this what’s been keeping you awake? This story? Or not having time to yourself?”

  “Both. Plus, I’ve always gone through spells of insomnia. I try to use it, though. Do research on the Web. And sometimes the pieces of a puzzle come together in the middle of the night when I least expect it. I do crash eventually.”

  “Precisely what I’m afraid of: the word crash.”

  Quinn wrapped his arms around her. “I need you to try to understand this.”

  “I’m trying to understand, truly I am. It’s just hard when I feel envious of your job.”

  “Envious or neglected?”

  Natalie looked thoughtful. “Not neglected exactly. More like”—she fluttered her long, pale fingers in the air, searching for the right word—“second best. I can’t compare to the excitement I see in your eyes when you run out to cover a story.”

  Quinn felt terrible. That’s not how he wanted her to feel, but he knew she was right. She had every right to ask him why he couldn’t compromise a little bit. He knew the answer: he was an uncompromising bastard, which was why he was such a success at work and so crappy when it came to relationships. But maybe it was time to bend. Just a little.

  “Look,” said Quinn, brushing a silky tangle of hair away from her face. “All I need is a few nights a week on my own, and things will balance themselves out. I swear.”

  Natalie looked skeptical.

  “What, you don’t believe me?”

  “Chere, don’t be offended when I say this, but I’ll believe it when I see it. In the meantime, how do we work this? Do we come up with a schedule for when you’re here and when you’re not? Or do I wait for you to walk into the pub or call me late at night to tell me whether you’ll be coming home with me or not?”

  She sounded angry. Bend, you selfish bastard. Bend.

  “I would never leave you hanging. You decide on a schedule, if that’s what works best for you.”

  “I get you on my two nights off, Monday and Wednesday, and Saturday and Sunday during the day as well.”

  “Agreed.”

  She looked satisfied and rubbed her nose against his. “Are you coming to bed?”

  “In a little bit. I promise.”

  Natalie clucked her tongue. “You are so exasperating.”

  Quinn grinned. “I do my best.”

  “You succeed admirably.”

  They rose, Quinn taking her hand, pausing when they came to the bedroom door. “Sleep tight,” he murmured, kissing her gently. He wished he wasn’t so wide-awake so he could lie down next to her, spooning as they both drifted off together.

  “Please try to get some sleep,” she begged. “Even if it’s just a little.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  He kissed her again, continuing on to the dining room, where his laptop sat waiting for him. He sat down, reflexively taking his cell out of his pocket. He stared at it a moment, then turned it off, even though it killed him to do so. With that, he got down to work.

  The next day, Natalie took the subway out to Bensonhurst to see Vivi. It was early morning, the only time to catch her at home. Natalie entered the house to find Vivi in the living room, dramatically sealing up a large cardboard box sitting on the coffee table.

  “Bonjour,” said Natalie, kissing her sister on both cheeks. “What’s that?”

  “My grand-mère’s wedding dress. I’m sending it back to Lyon. The wedding is off.”

  Natalie sighed heavily. “Again?” At least once a week, Vivi or Anthony broke their engagement. It was becoming tiresome.

  “For real this time,” Vivi insisted with a scowl. “I can’t marry him. Truly I can’t. Isn’t the wedding day really supposed to be the bride’s day? Eh?”

  “Yes, I believe so,” said Natalie, sitting down on the couch.

  “Ha! I knew it! Yet he’s trying to control everything. Everything.”

  “I thought you two had agreed on the church. And where to hold the reception. And didn’t you two just hire a band you both liked?”

  “Yes,” Vivi said impatiently, “but he was still pushing for that stupide Tarantulas band right up until the last moment!”

  “What does it matter? In the end, they’re not playing.”

  “He still wants to invite three hundred people! It’s absurd! And he wants a wedding party! The only person I want standing up for me is you. But he wants Michael as his best man, and Aldo as a groomsman as well as his cousin Gemma’s husband. I love all of them, but I don’t want a wedding party!”

  “Vivi—”

  Vivi plopped down on the couch, close to tears. “Him, him, him. All about him.”

  “I understand that,” Natalie commiserated under her breath. “Where is he?”

  “At his brother’s, I imagine. I threw him out last night. He better not walk across the street to Vivi’s later to try to make up. I’ll chase him with that damn cleaver he bought me last year.”

  “I’ve never met two more stubborn, temperamental people in my life.”

  “Oui, and that’s why it’s a match made in hell.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t get married,” Natalie suggested. “You’ve been living together for a year, and it’s been fine. If the planning is going to drive you apart, is it worth it?”

  Vivi’s eyes began watering. “I’ve always wanted to get married,” she sniffled. “Ever since I was a little girl. And I want to have children.”

  “Your mother had you, and she wasn’t married.”

  “My mother couldn’t marry my father, remember?” Vivi snapped. “He was married to your mother.” She clamped her eyes shut for a moment, looking like she was trying to regain control. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound nasty.”

  “No, it’s true.”

  “But not accurate. Even if our father was free, I don’t think my maman would have married him. She was always très bohemian.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m looking forward to meeting your grand-mère. Wait until she sees you in her dress. You’re going to look so beautiful. I know I’m going to cry the minute you walk down the aisle.”

  Vivi was silent.

  “All this stress will be over soon, you’ll see. And you’ll live happily ever after and have a passel of strong-willed, temperamental children.”

  Vivi laughed, cheering up. “We still need to shop for your dress. Something chic and lovely, not one of those atroce wedding party dresses that you’ll never wear again in your life.”

  “Chic and lovely and reasonably priced.”

  “Oh, no, no, I’m buying it for you,” Vivi insisted. “It’s my present to you for being such a good sister, and helping to keep me sane.”

  Now it was Natalie’s turn to tear up. “You don’t have to do that, but I know you: you’ll dig your heels in. So thank you.”

  “Enough of me,” Vivi declared, slapping the top of her thighs as she stood and began untaping the box containing her wedding dress. “Time to hear about you.”

  “I’m with a selfish man as well.” Natalie rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly aware of the knot of tension forming there. “Do you remember me telling you that he asked me early on if I could deal with the unpredictable nature of his work, and I told him yes, and then told you I would make it work if that’s what it took to be with him?”

  “Yeeesss.”

  “Well, it goes beyond unpredictable,” Natalie lamented. “He’s addicted to it. I’m not exaggerating, Vivi. It’s all he lives f
or. He tries to put me first when we’re together, but I can tell that his mind is often elsewhere. He rarely has his phone off, but when he does, he turns it on all the time to check for messages! I feel like work is his mistress. No, that’s wrong; I feel as if I were the mistress, and his job is his wife. I love him, but it’s harder to be with him than I thought.”

  Vivi looked concerned. “Have you told him this?”

  “Yes. We talked about it last night—after he told me he didn’t want to stay with me every night. He said he needs a few evenings a week alone to concentrate on his job. He’s working on a particularly difficult article right now. But he swears that once it’s done, we’ll have more time together.”

  “Maybe that’s so. Maybe you just need to be patient.”

  “Or maybe it’s crazy for me to think he’ll change.” She paused. “It hurts me that he doesn’t want to spend every night with me. Of course I understand it intellectually. But emotionally, it feels like he’s distancing himself.”

  Vivi looked apprehensive. “Are you thinking of breaking up with him?”

  “I don’t want to,” Natalie said miserably. “I love him so. But it’s very hard to play second fiddle to his work.”

  “Yes, that would be painful.”

  “All his relationships before me ended because of his work or his feeling that too many demands were being put on him. He told me that himself. I’ve been trying so hard to prove I’m different from all the others, that I accept him as he is. But maybe I’m the same as them. Maybe I need and deserve more than he can give, the same as all the others did.”

  “I think you should give him a chance to prove himself. He obviously loves you and doesn’t want to lose you. You’ve always been very impatient, Natalie, don’t deny it. Wait and see what happens.”

  “And if nothing changes?”

  “You can make a decision then. But for now, I’d just sit cheap.”

  “Sit tight, Vivi,” Natalie corrected with a chuckle. “The expression is sit tight.” She stopped massaging her neck. “That’s what I’ll do then, right after I have a chat with your pigheaded fiancé.”

  26

  Natalie followed Vivi to her bistro. There was no mistaking the look in Vivi’s eyes—part relief, part sourness—when she glanced across the street at Dante’s and saw Anthony’s SUV parked there. “Well, at least he’s still alive,” she muttered, opening the door of her restaurant. She kissed Natalie on each cheek. “Don’t fret about Quinn.”

  “Don’t fret about Anthony,” Natalie returned.

  “I’ll call you, and we’ll figure out when we can go shopping for your dress.”

  “Yes.”

  Natalie waited until Vivi was inside her restaurant, then headed across the street. It was ironic, really, how when she and Vivi had first moved to Brooklyn, she’d thought both Anthony and Quinn somewhat déclassé. She still wished Quinn dressed better, but there were worse things in life than loving a man who didn’t know a Bastian from a Boateng. Perhaps she’d go to Bloomingdale’s and buy him a shirt. It wouldn’t cost too much.

  She decided she’d go round back and knock on the kitchen door, since the kitchen was probably where Anthony was.

  She opened the screen door of the kitchen and popped her head in. None of the kitchen staff knew who she was, so when numerous pairs of eyes lit on her questioningly, she told them she was Vivi’s sister. They nodded pleasantly, gesturing for her to come in as they returned to their work.

  The heat, the noise . . . the kitchen at Dante’s was so much larger than Vivi’s. Natalie found it somewhat overwhelming.

  Much to her surprise, Anthony’s brother Michael was there. His face lit up when he saw her. “Natalie! Long time, no see.”

  “I know.”

  Michael enveloped her in a big bear hug.

  “What are you doing here?” Natalie asked.

  “Day off. Thought I’d stop in and bust the big guy’s balls.”

  “Mmm.”

  “I hear they broke up again,” Michael continued, looking amused as he shook his head. “They’re more melodramatic than a freakin’ Italian opera.”

  “I agree completely. Is he here?”

  “He’s in the dining room mulling over some new recipes.”

  “And his mood?”

  “What do you think? He’s a crab’s ass as always.” Michael’s expression was curious. “You here to blast him on Vivi’s behalf?”

  “Lobby would be more accurate. I hope I don’t have to resort to blasting.”

  “Yeah, from what I’ve heard from Vivi, he has been somewhat of a stubborn bastard. But he’s always been a stubborn bastard.”

  “Vivi’s always been stubborn, too, which doesn’t help.” They shared a laugh.

  Natalie cocked her head quizzically. “Was he this obstinate when planning his first wedding?” Anthony’s first wife, a policewoman, had been killed in the line of duty. Vivi had been reluctant to get involved with a widower, but ultimately decided to take the chance. Clearly she’d made the right decision.

  “Don’t remember. Probably.” Michael patted her shoulder. “Well, good luck. If I hear him yelling, I’ll come out and rescue you.”

  “Thank you,” Natalie said appreciatively. The thought of Anthony yelling was very unpleasant. She certainly wouldn’t yell back; that wasn’t her style at all.

  Michael began walking away, then turned back. “Oh, wait—how’s Quinn? Vivi said he hasn’t come in to eat in quite a while.”

  “He’s doing very well. I’ll tell him you asked.”

  “Tell him if he ever wants tickets to a Blades game for him and his cronies, just let me know.”

  “I will.”

  Natalie gently pushed through the swinging doors of the kitchen and went out into the dining room. Anthony was sitting at a table for four, poring over three large, spiral-bound notebooks, jotting notes on a legal pad. He turned when he heard the doors open, unmistakable surprise on his face.

  “Let me guess,” he said sardonically as Natalie approached the table. “Vivi sent you here to give the engagement ring back to me.”

  “Wrong.” Natalie gestured at the seat opposite Anthony. “May I?”

  “By all means. Can I get you anything?”

  “Non, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

  Natalie slid into the seat opposite her future brother-in-law, feeling awkward. She and Anthony had never had a serious talk before. She wondered if he would accuse her of overstepping her bounds, or if he’d lose that famous temper of his. Maybe both. Well, Quinn always said she could give as good as she got, even if she could be somewhat tart. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but if that’s what it took to make Vivi’s dream wedding come true, then she’d do it.

  Anthony closed up his notebooks. “What can I do for you?”

  “It isn’t what you can do for me,” said Natalie, seeing no reason to beat around the bush. “It’s what you can do for Vivi. Anthony, she’s been very accommodating regarding your wedding. A religious ceremony. Italian food. Having the reception at Dante’s. Now she tells me you want her to have a wedding party.”

  “I don’t think it’s asking a lot.”

  “There’s no reason why you can’t just have your brother and me be your witnesses. It’s a small thing.”

  “But it will be, I dunno, weird.”

  Natalie blinked. “It won’t be weird. Do you really think anyone cares? Do you think your loved ones will be sitting in church thinking about that?”

  “No,” Anthony admitted sheepishly.

  “So we’ve taken care of that.”

  “No offense, Natalie, but—”

  “Vivi’s entitled to get some of the things she wants,” Natalie interrupted fiercely. “This is her first wedding and, she hopes, her only wedding. You’ve been married before. Yes, it’s a day for both of you, but the wedding day should be all about the bride. Your bride loves you so much that she acquiesced on things that were important to her. The least you can d
o is give her what she wants on what’s left to decide—which is not a lot!”

  Anthony leaned back in his chair, sizing her up. “Did Vivi send you here to talk to me?”

  “No. I’m here because I want her to be happy on the most important day of her life.”

  Anthony’s expression softened. “Believe it or not, I do, too.”

  “I know that,” Natalie said, heartfelt. “I used to think you weren’t good enough for Vivi.”

  “And I thought you were a snob.”

  Natalie leaned forward. “I still am—a bit,” she confessed in a stage whisper.

  “That’s okay. I’m probably not good enough for Vivi.”

  They both laughed.

  “You and Quinn doing good?”

  “Very well,” Natalie said politely.

  “Maybe you’ll be next at the altar, huh?”

  Natalie cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Maybe.” She felt ill at ease discussing this issue, even though she could see it was just his way of being friendly.

  Anthony scrubbed his hands over his tired face. “Okay. Whatever Vivi wants from now on, she gets. You’re right: she’s the bride. Obviously I’ve been walking around with my head up my ass.”

  Natalie chuckled. “Another charming American expression.”

  “Any thoughts about her bridal shower?” Anthony asked.

  “I was just thinking about that. Maybe we should have it at my—Bernard Rousseau’s—apartment.” Natalie saw the small flash of displeasure in Anthony’s eyes at the mention of Bernard’s name and held back a bemused smile. Anthony had once thought Bernard was his competition for Vivi and was very jealous.

  “That sounds good.” Anthony rubbed his chin. “Want me to make the food? It would save money.”

  “That would be lovely,” Natalie said with relief. She needed to save as much money as she could. “I’ll need you to tell me what I should buy her for a present,” she continued.

  “Some tranquilizers might be good.”