Pieces of You

by Campisi, Mary

  She’d been gone three months and she wasn’t coming back. Why couldn’t the others figure it out, like he had? Oh, he’d held out a while, believing it was just a temporary departure, driven by the shock of Maldonando’s death, exacerbated by Quinn’s own thoughtless words.

  He picked up a pencil and began sketching. She should have trusted him. His lines were firm, fluid, determined. She wasn’t coming back. The shape of a woman’s face emerged from the canvas, the slender nose, wide eyes, arched brows. Why? Why? Why?

  He didn’t stop until the woman’s face stared back at him. Tonight, he would start painting it. The eyes would be first. He’d mix just the right amount of cerulean and navy. He remembered their blueness but the details were beginning to fade. Quinn stroked the canvas with desperate urgency. He must remember. The woman he loved. The woman who left him.

  ***

  Quinn worked past dinner and into early evening, stopping only once to feed Stella and let her outside before rushing back to the canvas. Eve stared back at him, the softness of her gaze slicing into him, her lips, full and pink, her expression a blend of sorrow and hope.

  When the doorbell rang, Stella jumped awake, yelping as she bolted toward the sound. “Dammit.” He considered not answering it, but it might be Annie coming to check on Stella, and him of course, though she’d never admit it. Stella barked again and he set down his brush. “Okay, I’m coming.” He grabbed a cloth and wiped smears of blue and pink paint from his fingers. Stella stood at the door, barking in rapid staccato, tail wagging, middle wriggling. “Did Annie bring you another treat?” He shook his head and opened the door. It wasn’t Annie.

  “Hello, Quinn.”

  Eve stared back at him. He consumed her with his stare, taking in the flushed face, beautiful in its radiance, the blue eyes, the exact shade he’d created on canvas, the black hair, longer now, the very swollen belly protruding from a white, wool coat.

  “May I come in?”

  He couldn’t form the words for a response so he merely stepped aside and let her pass. Stella jumped against Eve’s knees, sniffing and wagging her tail.

  “New addition?”

  “Annie thought I needed company.” He was rather impressed at how calm he sounded, as though seeing her again hadn’t pierced his heart.

  “She’s darling.” Eve leaned over and stroked Stella’s back. “What’s her name?”

  “Stella.” Neighborly conversation. Surface talk.

  She nodded and looked away, her gaze skimming the room. “Could we talk?”

  He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from doing something stupid, like touching her. “Sure.”

  She wet her lips twice, reminding him of how soft and kissable they were. “I’m sorry for the way I left.” She placed her hands on her stomach and forced a half laugh which fizzled when she met his gaze. “Obviously there were some things you didn’t know about.”

  “Obviously.” A slow burn of anger seeped through him. He’d thought he was through with these emotions but seeing her again brought them all back.

  “I’m sorry.”

  That was it? He leaned against the wall, part of him wishing she’d never come back, the other part wondering why it had taken so long. “You should have told me.”

  She nodded her dark head and he noticed her hair looked shinier, probably from the pregnancy. “I know.” And then, “I’m really sorry.”

  “People say they’re sorry for cutting in line or bringing the wrong order in a restaurant.” Anger pinched his words as he fought to remain calm. “You knew what happened with my mother and yet you did the same thing.”

  Her beautiful eyes filled with tears. “I know. I’m so sorry, but I had no choice.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Quinn, listen—”

  He cut her off, suddenly furious with the whole conversation and not caring if she knew it. “There are always choices. Some right, some wrong.”

  She squared her shoulders and challenged him. “You said you wanted to wipe out every memory of Alexander. Would you have wanted to wipe out this baby, too?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “An abortion.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? Or maybe you would have pretended to accept it and then treated him or her with animosity.”

  “You’re assuming we had a future together.” He wanted to hurt her right now, make her feel the pain he’d felt.

  “Yes.” Her voice turned small. “I guess I did think we had a future together.”

  He stared at her swollen belly. Could he raise another man’s child? “When my mother told me you were pregnant, I actually thought the baby was mine.”

  She blinked hard and shook her head. “I never meant to hurt you.” She wrapped her arms over her belly. “I came to tell you what I did was wrong. I shouldn’t have left without telling you the truth.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” He dragged his eyes from her belly.

  “But I came back.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “Should it?”

  Her voice cracked as she said, “Good-bye, Quinn. I hope you find happiness.”

  “You, too.” He sounded like a real jerk but he was angry and so damn hurt it was hard to breathe.

  She turned and moved toward the door. A few more steps and she’d slip out of his life. Her hand reached for the knob. “Where have you been all these months?” He couldn’t let her go. Yet.

  “I went to Corville.”

  He couldn’t have heard her right. “What did you just say?”

  Eve turned around slowly. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she said, “I went to your hometown, Quinn. I met the rest of your family.”

  Chapter 24

  “You went to Corville?”

  His voice remained soft and even but she didn’t miss the vein pulsing in his neck or the way he’d begun clenching and unclenching his fists. She nodded. “That’s where I’ve been these past few months.”

  “May I ask why?” He stared at her as though she’d told him she’d just returned from Mars.

  Because I wanted to understand what happened to make the man I loved so uncompromising and unforgiving. Instead, she said, “I wanted to escape and that seemed like a logical place.” She lifted a shoulder. “Who would look for a missing person in a place like Corville?”

  His fists unclenched. He waited for her to say more.

  “I met your aunts and uncles, some of your cousins and their children, too.”

  “Big party, huh? Did you tell them you knew me?”

  Knew him? Now he was the one speaking as though they were casual acquaintances who had shared a drink or a seat next to one another on the bus. It hurt and yet, what had she expected? “No, I didn’t say I knew you, though once they learned I’d come from Philadelphia, they wanted to know everything about the city where their hometown hero lived.”

  That tidbit seemed to surprise him. “What did you tell them?”

  “That I was just passing through myself, but I filled them in on Ben Franklin’s house, the best place to get a Philly cheese steak, traffic jams, and of course, The Silver Strand.”

  He nodded. “I see.”

  Did he really not know the town thought him a hero? If he ever deigned make an appearance, they would probably block off Main Street and hold a parade. “They had a lot to say.” A true understatement.

  “Beginning with the disappearance of Evie Burnes?” he asked, sarcasm coating each word.

  “Yes, there was that, but it was only mentioned as a way to talk about you.” She pushed on before he could interrupt with a skeptical comment. “They told me how you practically raised Annie. How you were the only one she let braid her hair or put her to bed at night. How you picked your father off a barstool more than once and drove him home.” She wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him but he stood before her like a stone statue. “And then, after la
w school you just disappeared, except for your father’s funeral.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  “They miss you. You’re a hero to them.”

  “You mean I’m one of the lucky ones who got away and now they want dibs on my money.”

  “No, the only thing they mentioned about you being a lawyer is your ability to help right wrongs.”

  He laughed at that. “Did you tell them the truth?”

  “What is the truth?” Speaking of truth, what’s the truth about us? Is there still a chance?

  He sighed and said, “Hell if I even know anymore.”

  She waited for him to say more. Say something, please. I love you, can’t you see? When she couldn’t take the silence any longer, she merely nodded and said, “I hope you figure it out. Goodbye, Quinn.”

  His gaze darted to her belly, shifted quickly to her feet. “I . . .”

  “Yes?” Hope squeezed the breath in her lungs.

  He lifted his eyes to meet hers. There was pain in their silver depths, and something else. Regret? Misery?

  “Don’t go.” It was one small, raspy plea.

  “Quinn?”

  “Don’t go,” he said again, his voice firmer. “Please.”

  Was he offering a night or a lifetime?

  “I haven’t allowed myself to need anyone since my mother left. That’s a long time to go it alone and I’m not sure I like the idea of needing someone now, but there doesn’t seem to be a damn thing I can do about it.”

  She bit her lip to keep from smiling, and doing something totally stupid, like telling him she loved him. Not yet. Instead, she took three tiny breaths and said, “I know the feeling.”

  Quinn’s lips curved into a slow smile that sent a jolt of desire straight to her belly.

  “You do, huh?” His voice dipped to a sexy rumble.

  Oh, God, but she’d missed him. “Uh-huh. I do.”

  He took a step closer. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Sound of what?” His closeness smothered her logic.

  “I do,” he said solemnly, taking her left hand in his. “I like the sound of those two words. Strung together.” He ran his thumb over her palm in slow circles. “Especially coming from you.”

  “Quinn? What are you saying?”

  He stroked her cheek with his free hand, his gaze fierce as he asked, “Will you marry me, Eve?”

  She blinked hard, fighting a wave of lightheadedness. Marry him? She wasn’t hallucinating was she, or having one of those recurring dreams she was prone to in which Quinn tracked her down and pledged his undying love? She blinked again. He was still standing mere inches from her. Waiting.

  “If this is too soon,” he stumbled, his handsome face turning a dull pink, “we can wait until you have time to adjust to the idea. I just thought I’d throw it out there, but I understand if you need time.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest. “Yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you!”

  He hugged her to him in a fierce embrace. “Oh, God, I’ve been miserable.”

  She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. “You called me Eve.”

  “I know.”

  “I haven’t slept a full night since I left and it’s got nothing to do with the baby.” She pulled away so she could see those beautiful eyes again. “I love you, Quinn Burnes. I love you with my whole heart.”

  “And I love you.” He gently placed his hand on her belly. “Welcome home.” He brushed his mouth against hers, soft at first and then more demanding.

  “Quinn,” she sighed against his mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Keep telling me that,” he murmured. “Maybe I’ll get tired of hearing it after thirty or forty years.”

  She laughed and buried her hands in his hair. “I’m looking forward to forty years with you.”

  “I think,” he said, stroking her cheek, “forty years won’t be enough.”

  “But it will be a wonderful beginning.”

  “I have something to show you.” He grabbed her hand and led her to his studio. “Look.”

  It was a huge portrait. Of her. “It’s me,” she whispered.

  Quinn stood behind her, massaging her shoulders. “The most beautiful woman in the world.”

  ***

  “You’re painting again?”

  He leaned close and planted a soft kiss on the side of her neck. God, she smelled good. “I’m doing a lot of things, thanks to my mother. Who would have believed it? She told me it was time to live forward and she was right.” He gently placed his hands on Eve’s belly. “Do that with me. From this day on, live forward.”

  She arched against him and smiled. “As long as I’m with you, I can do anything.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He slipped the coat from her shoulders and began unbuttoning her shirt. “You feel so good.” He cupped her breast, let the weight of her soft flesh fill his hand. Silky and full, much larger than the last time he’d touched her. His hand stilled. “Is it okay if we,” he paused, tried again, “I mean, do you think we can . . .”

  She rubbed her butt against him and purred, “Make love? Hmmm, is that what you’re asking?”

  He groaned and grabbed her hips, moving against her in a slow, tantalizing rhythm. He was going to die if he didn’t sink himself between those luscious thighs very soon. Three months was a damn long time.

  “Quinn? You stopped moving.” Her voice dipped. “Change your mind?”

  “No.” Hell no. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Those full lips pulled into a smile that made him harder. “I’m pregnant, not terminal.” She took his hands and eased them down her body, over her belly, and lower still.

  “You’re driving me wild.” He wanted sex; sweet, unrated, consuming, sex. He dipped a finger inside her jeans and fingered the lace of her underwear. Did she still wear those scraps of lace she called underwear? If he didn’t shut down his fantasizing soon, he’d explode before he got inside her.

  “You can make love to me. I want you to.”

  Reason kicked in, stilling his aching body. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” She reached around and worked the button on his jeans. “Unless you plan on leaving me like this.” The zipper was next. She struggled but managed to ease it open past the bulge in his pants. “Then I would be in true distress.”

  “Really?” He sucked the tender spot on the back of her neck and his senses ignited like wildfire. When she moaned, he forced himself to maintain control. She had no idea how badly he wanted her. He ran his tongue along the rim of her earlobe and murmured, “I’m a champion at rescuing damsels in distress.”

  Eve reached inside his jeans and cupped him, her hands working with quick, greedy strokes as she vowed, “But from this day on, I’ll be the only damsel you’ll be rescuing.”

  “You’re all I need,” he whispered, inching a finger inside her panties. “All I’ll ever need.”

  She let out a moan and jerked her hips toward his finger. “I need you, Quinn. Inside of me.”

  “I know,” he murmured against her neck.

  “Now.”

  He yanked down her jeans and panties, and slid a finger inside her. “It will be my exquisite pleasure to give you what you want. All night. Every night.” He stroked her, working his finger in and out, deeper each time. Ah, the sweetness of her weeping over him, promising so much more.

  “More,” she pleaded.

  He rubbed himself against her. “I’m going to take you, now.”

  “Yes,” she panted. “Now.”

  He unclasped her bra with his free hand and stroked her nipples. “Quinn!”

  “Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” He turned her around and eased her onto the couch. Then he covered her body with his. “You’re sure I won’t hurt you?”

  She wriggled against him. “Very sure.”

  He hesitated. “I might not be able to control myself much longer.”

&
nbsp; Eve ran her tongue along the seam of his lips. “I hope not. Now stop talking and give me what I’ve waited three long, lonely months for.”

  Quinn filled her with a speed and force that moved the couch. “Oh, baby, I’ve been dying for this.” He pumped into her hard and fast, reclaiming her body, her soul, her heart. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

  “Never.” Eve bucked against him, squirming and crying out with pleasure as he buried himself deep inside her heat then withdrew almost completely before plunging inside once again. It was the most exquisite possession he’d ever known. Seconds later, she screamed his name and convulsed in spasms of pleasure. It was all he needed. The white heat of orgasm pulsed through him as he grabbed her hips and thrust once, twice, three more times and then exploded in a flame of need and desire. And love.

  Epilogue

  The third Saturday in April proved the perfect day for a wedding. Not that weather was a factor. Annie would have fought rain, sleet, even a tornado to make it to her wedding. In less than an hour, she’d become Mrs. Michael Sorbonne. She was a wreck, pacing barefoot in the basement of St. Christopher’s Church as Eve chased after her, trying to jab gardenias in her hair.

  Eve’s post pregnant pounds lent a gentle flair of curve and fullness to her hips and breasts which in Evie’s opinion transformed the too slender woman into a tantalizing specimen of female allure. Perfect for the canvas. Or maybe Eve’s radiance had less to do with weight and more to do with her new husband and new daughter.

  “I wish Michael would hurry up,” Annie said, nibbling at a newly manicured nail.

  “He’ll be here,” Eve said. “Try to relax.”

  “What if Michael can’t get Dr. Martin to cover for him?” Annie stood still for a half second to let Eve thrust a piece of baby’s breath in her hair. “He’ll miss his own wedding. That’s what will happen. Oh, Lord, why did I have to fall in love with a doctor?”

  “Have a little faith in him, Annie,” Evie said, reaching in her purse for a nail file. She handed it to her daughter who gave her a watery smile and sniffed.