by Lily Everett
“But … I’ve pushed Quinn away so many times,” Marcus realized, his stomach roiling with tension. “She’ll never be willing to take a chance on me again.”
“I don’t know her well,” Dad said thoughtfully, “but she doesn’t strike me as the type who’s afraid to take a chance. Maybe she’ll surprise you. Maybe you’ll surprise each other.”
Marcus straightened, determination filling him. This might not work, but Dad was right, he needed to fight. And if he failed, he’d go down swinging.
“Maybe what I need … is a plan.”
*
Quinn woke on the morning of her parents’ vow-renewal ceremony and stared up at the ceiling of her girlhood bedroom.
She felt flattened. By life, by the weight of her own dashed hopes and dreams. By her own melodrama.
It seemed ridiculous to be heartbroken over a man who had clearly never been very serious about her. Looking back, Quinn couldn’t believe she’d let herself get in so deep, when you only had to glance at Marcus Beckett to see the NO TRESPASSING signs posted all over him. The serious ones that said things like BEWARE OF DOG and TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT and NO, SERIOUSLY, QUINN, KEEP OUT.
But she couldn’t deny it, even to herself. Her heart was in a million sharp, jagged pieces, and she wasn’t sure how she was ever going to put it back together again on her own.
The knock on her door reminded her that she wasn’t on her own, not entirely, and today wasn’t about her broken heart. It was going to be a celebration of enduring love, which lasted through the years, bridged all distance, healed all pain, and made unicorns fly on rainbow wings through starry, cloudless skies. Or whatever.
Mentally slapping herself, Quinn hauled her butt out of bed and opened her door to peer out at her mother’s radiant face.
“I’m up!”
“About time,” Ingrid scolded breathlessly, her smile never fading. “I’m ready to start getting dressed and I want your help with my hair.”
Quinn, who never did anything more complicated than a braid with her own hair, wasn’t sure how much help she could be. But again, it wasn’t about her. And looking at her mother’s sparkling eyes and excitement-flushed cheeks, Quinn had no trouble working up a smile of her own.
“I’ll do my best,” she promised. “Just let me throw on my dress and I’ll come straight to your room. Or should I wait until the last minute to get changed? I’d hate for anything to happen to the dress while I’m setting up chairs in the garden or whatever last-minute things are bound to come up.”
“You don’t need to do any heavy lifting! We hired the Hackley boys to do all that.” Ingrid reached out and clasped her daughter’s hand between both of her own. “I want you to enjoy yourself today, as much as you can.”
Quinn bit her lip. “I’m sorry if I’ve been carrying around my own personal raincloud, the last few days. I promise, I’ll come out from under it soon. It’s just taking a little time.”
“Of course it is! You don’t need to apologize to me,” her mother said sincerely. “Breaking off your engagement and your relationship, your ex-fiancé disappearing before you can get anything settled or even say good-bye properly—of course you’re in a funk. It’s only natural, and when I see Marcus Beckett again, I intend to slap him silly for making you suffer like this.”
Quinn laughed, the sound as bitter as lemon rind on the back of her tongue. “Don’t worry, you won’t be seeing Marcus again.”
Her mother’s hands squeezed supportively. “Oh, sweetheart. Really? You think Marcus is gone for good?”
It was hard to talk about it when the words wanted to stick in her throat, but Quinn forced them out. “I think he’s gone. For better or worse. But honestly, I’m not sure he ever believed we had a future at all, and if that’s true … then it is good that he’s gone. If you and Daddy have taught me anything, it’s that both partners in a relationship need to believe the relationship is worth saving.”
Ingrid was quiet for a long moment, her gaze searching. “Well. Sweetheart. I don’t claim to be a quote unquote relationship expert, like some. But I’m not sure I agree with you.”
“What? Really?”
“Maybe it depends on the relationship,” Ingrid said slowly. “Not every single one works the same way. But when you’re talking about an extended relationship, over many years … well, the truth is that you and your partner won’t always be on the same page. Sometimes you may not even be reading from the same book! Marriage is long, or at least you hope it is when you start out. And I think the ones that last—the lucky ones!—are the ones where even in the out-of-sync times, at least one of the spouses believes in the relationship strongly enough to hold on … until the other spouse can find his or her place in the story again.”
“That sounds hard,” Quinn whispered, her fingers curled in her mother’s gentle grasp.
“Well, frankly, it is. Marriage isn’t a recipe for an easy life.” Ingrid reached out to cup Quinn’s cheek in her palm. “I would’ve thought that’s what your father and I taught you, if nothing else.”
Heart swelling until it pressed at her rib cage, Quinn struggled to hold back tears. “Then why do people do it, if it’s so hard? Wouldn’t it be easier to be alone and free? Wouldn’t that keep your heart safe?”
Ingrid looked thoughtful. “Marriage certainly isn’t the only path to happiness. Plenty of people are happy being alone and free, although I think if your motivation for staying single is to never be hurt, that might not be the healthiest way to live. Or the smartest—everyone gets hurt, sometimes. But when you find the right person, the person you want to hold on to even when everything is falling apart around you—then getting married is a way to show your commitment, to that person and to the world. If I got to choose what you learned from your father and me, it would be this: that marriage is hard work, but when it’s the right person, it’s worth it.”
“But what if you find the person you want to hold onto … and they let you go at the first sign of trouble?”
“Oh, my dearest girl.” Ingrid’s eyes filled with the tears Quinn wouldn’t allow to fall. “I wish that Marcus had held strong, no matter what. I want that for you, of course. But sweetheart, you did break off the engagement. Is it possible he thought you were the one letting go?”
Frustrated, Quinn pressed her lips together. She wanted to tell her mother about the fake engagement but the words wouldn’t come. Quinn didn’t know what difference it could make now—as Marcus had pointed out, they’d both gotten what they wanted from the charade. But this was almost the first deep, open conversation she’d ever had with her mother. Quinn had always been a bit of a daddy’s girl, and that tendency had turned into a habit that had turned into the way things were in their family.
But these past few weeks had shown Quinn a new side of her mother. Or, to be more accurate, Ingrid hadn’t changed—but Quinn had learned to see her mother in a new way. She’d found that her vague, easily distracted mother could focus like a laser when it was important.
And Quinn had learned that she was very important to her mother.
Even so, Quinn felt too shaky at the moment to test the limits of her fragile, new connection with her mother. Besides, what could she say? Even if the engagement hadn’t been real, the breakup definitely was, and Ingrid was right. Quinn had started it. From her mother’s perspective, Quinn could see how it looked.
“Mother,” she said with difficulty. “I know it’s taken me a long time to … well, to grow up, sort of.”
“Growing up is overrated. That’s a phrase people use when they want to stifle your spirit and squash your free, creative impulses.”
Quinn grinned. “Thanks, but that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about the fact that I’ve never been in a serious relationship before Marcus.”
“That doesn’t mean you aren’t serious about Marcus,” Ingrid protested.
“I know, but it does mean I don’t have much to compare it to. Maybe he’s right,” Quinn worried, s
mile fading. “Maybe I’m not mature enough to settle down. Maybe I’d only screw it up. It’s not like I’ve had any practice.”
“There are never any guarantees that you won’t screw it up—either of you! If that’s what Marcus is waiting for, or what you’re waiting for, it’s going to be a very long wait, my darling. But if you’re not sure of your feelings…” Ingrid studied her face, and Quinn wondered what she saw there. “Well, dear. Only you can decide if your feelings are real. Now come on. Those rosebuds aren’t going to weave themselves through my hair.”
Quinn returned her mother’s hug and followed her down the hall. But all through brushing out her mother’s long silver-blond hair and laughing over how to fix the flowers to it without resorting to Super Glue, Quinn wondered.
Could a relationship that started as a fake have a real future?
Chapter 21
Paul Harper gazed out over the backyard that he and his wife had made beautiful with their own two hands. He stood in the shadow of the henge they’d built, surrounded by the stones that were supposed to smash their marriage to dust, but instead had lifted them up to a new place. A stronger place. Together.
That was pretty good, he thought. He’d have to remember to tell Ingrid that bit later, about the stones lifting them up. She’d like that.
If he weren’t standing here in front of all their friends and neighbors, he might take out his pencil and add that line to the vows he’d written. But it was too late for that, he reflected with satisfaction. The music was starting, the throbbing strings of a quartet of acoustic guitars wafting over the spring garden.
The whole town had turned out, it seemed like. Standing room only, people were clustered around and throughout the winding garden pathways, some perched on folding chairs, some sitting on blankets they’d brought along to spread on the grass. So many people, Paul couldn’t really register them all—they were a bright blur of happy faces among the flowers.
Daffodils bobbed their white and yellow heads while the wild cherry and plum trees bordering the yard released a shower of pink petals to float over Quinn and Ingrid as they stepped out of the house and started the long walk down the center aisle. Paul’s heart seized with a quick spasm of love. Quinn looked so beautiful in that lavender dress with the soft, flowy skirt rippling in the breeze and her red-gold hair waving around her shoulders.
She held out her arm to her mother, to walk her down the aisle, and Paul finally let his gaze fall on the woman he loved. Ingrid was a vision in royal purple, as bright and vivid as her personality … but no match for the dazzling brilliance of her smile.
She was happy. He’d made this incredible, endlessly fascinating and complicated woman happy.
Chest swelling with pride and pleasure, Paul kept his head up and his gaze steady as he watched his wife and daughter’s progress down the aisle. When they reached him, Ingrid and Quinn hugged, then Quinn stepped up and kissed her father on the cheek before taking her mother’s bouquet in hand and moving to stand behind them, looking out over the assembled guests.
They’d talked about keeping Quinn with them as part of the renewal vows and the rededication of their family as a loving unit, but Quinn had insisted that this moment wasn’t about her. It was about them, the years they’d spent as husband and wife, and the years they hoped were yet to come. Quinn was a part of it, she’d said, but she wasn’t all of it.
And though Paul had come up with a way to include her as much as possible, he thought now that his daughter was wise beyond her years. She’d understood more than Paul had—in this moment, as heart-glad as he was to have his beloved daughter nearby, all he wanted was to take his wife’s hands and gaze down into her eyes as if they were the only two people on earth.
“You’re here,” Paul said, softly enough that only Ingrid could hear him.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” she assured him. Her luminous smile was both familiar and new, like coming home after a long, long journey.
“Friends and neighbors and loved ones,” Quinn said clearly, her voice like a bell. “Thank you for being with us today as my parents, Paul and Ingrid Harper, recommit their lives, hearts, and souls to one another.”
The crowd clapped, loudly enough to send the sprays of daisies and hyacinths dancing along the aisle. Ingrid grinned up at him, impishly delighted to have gotten their skeptical, pragmatic daughter to talk about their souls in public.
Paul loved them both so much, it nearly stopped his breath.
“If this were a traditional ceremony, I’d be calling you ‘Dearly Beloved,’” Quinn joked. “But since this is the Harpers we’re talking about, I’ll just say, hey, y’all. I can’t believe how many of you showed up to witness this moment that is so worth honoring. Thank you for being here, and we love you. And now it’s time to turn things over to the man and woman of the hour, my beautiful mother and sweet daddy. I love you guys.”
Quinn’s voice broke a little on the last part, and Paul noticed for the first time that a tear was tracking down her cheek. She smiled tremulously at him and stepped aside, giving them the floor.
Paul drew in a deep breath and raised his and Ingrid’s joined hands to press a kiss to her knuckles. In a way, they’d already said their vows right here in this very spot, a few days before. But Ingrid believed, and Paul agreed, that there was meaning and power in proclaiming those same vows in front of their community.
He opened his mouth, his mind full of the words he planned to say, words he’d thought about and written down and worked over until he basically had them memorized. But before he could speak, a commotion in the crowd of guests drew his attention.
Stomping through the flower beds like a human wrecking ball was their erstwhile marriage guru, Ron Burkey. And he looked pissed.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Paul demanded, muscles tensing.
He dropped Ingrid’s hands and faced off with Ron, who puffed up like he was about to explode. There was a crazed look in his bulging eyes. A vein throbbed visibly in his forehead. “I’m here because you people have ruined everything! You’re not supposed to renew your vows, you’re supposed to break up! This whole ceremony is a sham!”
“You’re the sham,” Ingrid said sharply, eyes flashing. Paul had never been more proud of her. “Get off our property, Ron. Yes, our property, which will remain our property because we’re not selling it! To you or anyone!”
“What a waste,” Ron groaned, his hand clenched so tightly around his phone that his knuckles were white with strain. “And I just found … it’s not important. You’ve ruined me. I had a lot riding on this deal, and all you had to do was break up, the way you were already planning when I found you. It was perfect. Until she came along.”
His eyes narrowed on Quinn, and Paul’s head whipped around to see her chin lifting defiantly. “I have zero regrets, Mr. Burkey. Now, I think you should leave.”
Paul quite agreed. He stepped forward to assist Ron out of his backyard, by force if necessary, but Ron shrugged off his restraining hand with surprising strength.
Sneering, Ron replied, “Oh, I’m sure you do wish I’d leave. Preferably before I tell your parents and all your friends here that you’ve been lying to them for weeks.”
“Quinn?” Ingrid sounded confused. “What does he mean?”
“He’s a liar,” Paul growled, grabbing hold of the slick collar of Ron’s shiny sport coat. “We don’t need to listen to anything he has to say.”
“Oh no?” Ron struggled, clearly out of his mind with fury. “Then you don’t want to hear about how your daughter perpetrated a fraud on this entire town by pretending to be engaged to that overgrown lunk Marcus Beckett!”
“But they were engaged,” Ingrid said blankly. “We were there. We saw him ask her.”
Paul couldn’t take another second of this. “Ron, you’re just mad at Quinn and Marcus for discovering your underhanded scheme to turn our property into a spa for people with more money than sense. It’s time for you to lea
ve. Now.”
He started hauling Ron backward by his coat collar, working against the resistance put up by the bigger, meatier man, who was also shouting red-faced craziness as he went.
“They were never even involved! It was all a lie, a fake, and you fell for it. I heard them talking about it! They pretended to be in love and ready to settle down so you’d stay here and she could have time to ruin everything for me, the little bitch.”
Flames licked up the sides of Paul’s face and his vision went black for a moment. Then he blinked, and Ron was on the ground, moaning about his nose. Which was gushing blood. Paul’s knuckles were throbbing.
“Paul, darling!” Ingrid flew toward him through the crowd to throw her arms around his neck. “My hero! This is the best vow renewal anyone ever had!”
“I hit him,” Paul said stupidly. “I’ve never hit anyone before in my life.”
“If you ask me,” said a man beside him. “Ron Burkey was a good place to start.”
“Marcus!” Quinn gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “You’re back.”
Watching with interest while Ingrid laid her head on his chest contentedly, Paul saw Marcus make an aborted motion as though he wanted nothing in the world more than to go to Quinn. But instead, he glared down at Ron. “I never left. And I’m ready to haul this guy out of here and put him on the first ferry off this island.”
“No, let me,” said another man whom Paul recognized as another newish transplant to the island, Johnny Alexander. Johnny hauled Ron up by the scruff of his neck, like a disobedient terrier.
“He broke my nose,” Ron whined, staring around at the onlookers as if hoping for sympathy. His eyes lit on the khaki-clad figure of the sheriff. “I want to press charges!”
Sheriff Shepard gave him a flinty look. “I’m afraid I didn’t see a thing. Except this homeowner asking you to leave his property, more than once. Which means you’re currently trespassing. Mr. Alexander, do you need any help? I can call in one of my deputies, if you’d like.”