It was a small but important distinction for Amy.
“Have you ever seen that movie Sliding Doors?” she asked.
“Does it have explosions and chicks in bikinis toting guns?”
She gave him a dry look. “It’s about the life you could have had if you made different choices.”
“Ah.” He was silent for a moment, then he brushed a hand down her arm. “Great idea for a movie.”
“But?”
He shrugged. “Real life is more complicated.”
She understood what he was saying with those few, spare words: he’d loved Lisa. He’d married her, been prepared to build forever with her. He wasn’t going to say he regretted any of that as a sop to Amy. He was too honest for that.
She caught his hand in hers. If he’d felt any other way, she’d like him a lot less than she did. And she liked him a whole hell of a lot.
He pulled her into his arms. She closed her eyes and savored the closeness and the promise.
After a few minutes, Quinn cleared his throat.
“You know how I mentioned those dirty, horny, perverted fantasies I used to have?” he said. “One of them involved this particular bit of your parents’ yard and all this long grass.”
“Really?”
“To my shame.”
He didn’t look very ashamed.
“Is that why you wouldn’t let me put my underwear on?”
“I like to plan ahead.”
“Pretty confident, aren’t you?”
He kissed her deeply, pushing her back against the old apple tree, holding her there with his hips and his flat belly. She shivered as his hands slid under her T-shirt to cup her braless breasts. He kissed her neck, then nuzzled the sensitive place beneath her ear. She slid her hands under his T-shirt and smoothed her hands across his back and chest and belly before finally finding the stud on his jeans and working it free.
One day, she would take the time to explore his body slowly and surely. But not tonight. Tonight she was too impatient, too needy, too desperate.
They sank to their knees in the grass and Quinn pulled his T-shirt off and spread it on the ground to protect her from the damp grass.
“So gallant,” she said as he eased her onto her back.
“Smart mouth.”
Suddenly the light came on at the back of her parents’ house, flooding the yard.
“Is there somebody out there? Amy, is that you?” her mother called.
“No. Tell me this isn’t happening.” Quinn rested his forehead against hers. “Has she got a wiretap on you or something? I swear, she’s like a walking hard-on detector.”
Amy bit her lip, trying not to laugh. Quinn levered himself up on his arms.
“Mrs. P., if you value your life, you’ll go back inside and turn off the light right now.”
“Quinn? Is that you?” Her mother’s footsteps sounded on the patio as she came to investigate. “What on earth are you doing out there in the middle of the night?”
Amy stuffed her hand into her mouth.
“Well, I was kind of hoping to get your daughter naked. Then I was planning on spending the rest of my life making her happy,” Quinn said. “If that’s okay with you and Mr. P.”
There was a short silence, then the sound of her mother’s footsteps retreating. After a few seconds the light went off.
Quinn settled his weight over her again. “Now, where were we?”
“You were living out your teen fantasy.”
“That’s right.”
But instead of finishing undressing her, his expression suddenly became very serious. He traced the angle of her jaw, brushed his thumb over her lips, pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“All these years…I love you, Ames. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I never want to lose you.”
Amy stared into his face, so well known and precious to her. She thought about all the challenges that still lay ahead—working things out with Lisa, if that was even possible, the fact that Quinn’s hard-earned partnership was in Sydney and she was bound to the Grand, plus all the small, everyday complications any two people faced when trying to build a future together.
“Then don’t,” she said.
EPILOGUE
Eight months later
“THIS SUIT IS HOT. And scratchy. Tell me again how you talked me into wearing this?” Quinn said.
Amy stifled a smile as she looked at the man in the gorilla suit standing next to her. Any second now the first guests would arrive for the official opening ceremony for the restored Grand Picture Theatre. The invitation had asked guests to come as their favorite stars of the silver screen. In keeping with their own theme, she and Quinn had paid a visit to the costume rental shop.
They were expecting over three hundred guests tonight, many of them Quinn’s clients from his new practice. He had a shopfront on Vincent Street and more than enough work to keep him busy and challenged. There was the case he’d taken on last month, for instance—a negligence action against a certain property developer. Pro bono, naturally.
“You’re the one who insisted on being King Kong to my Fay Wray. You said that it was one of the greatest love stories of all time,” she said.
“There was a very real chance that I was under the influence of powerful pheromones and hormones at the time as a result of our honeymoon. Someone should have stepped in and saved me from myself.”
She reached up and patted his furry face. “You make a very sexy primate, if it’s any consolation.”
He made a jungle noise in the back of his throat and wrapped a big, furry arm around her, pulling her against his chest.
“Me want pretty lady.”
“Me want sweaty, scratchy monkey.”
“Help me get this head off so I can kiss you,” Quinn said.
She heard the sound of voices and high heels click-clacking on the tiled foyer.
“Too late. We’re on.”
There were waiters and waitresses in the foyer with trays of champagne and wine, but she and Quinn should really be there to greet their guests. She couldn’t wait to celebrate their achievements with their friends and family. Quinn’s parents had taken a break from their adventures on the road to attend. And Lisa had flown in this morning.
Although she’d been invited, Lisa hadn’t come to their wedding. Amy had understood, but she’d still felt the loss. There had been a few e-mails exchanged since then, a couple of phone calls, but nothing even close to the friendship they’d once shared. She’d been surprised when Lisa had responded to her invitation to attend the Grand’s opening night. Amy hoped that it might be the beginning of a new phase in their friendship, but it was early days yet, and she didn’t want to force anything.
“We ready?” Quinn asked, offering her his arm.
She smoothed a hand down the front of her dress and glanced quickly around the theatre to make sure everything was as it should be.
The restored seating had been installed last week after being re-chromed and reupholstered in deep burgundy velvet. Matching velvet curtains draped either side of the brand new screen, thick gold tasseled ropes holding them back so that they hung in elegant folds. The floors gleamed and the wall sconces cast warm light up the soft cream walls.
She tilted her head back to look at the restored ceiling. Of all her achievements at the Grand, she was most proud of the ceiling with its stylized depiction of the heavens. She and the plaster restorer had put in more than five hundred hours recasting and repairing the damaged moldings. Now it glowed a brilliant white with goldleaf highlights and shadows, its lines once again crisp and clear. It had already attracted the interest of a number of architectural and interior magazines in advance of the opening, and she’d been approached by a photographer who wanted to document the Grand in a book celebrating great heritage buildings in Australia.
She turned to Quinn. “Before we go, there’s something I want to say.” She reached up and pulled the gorilla head off so she could see his face. Their
guests could wait a few minutes. This was important.
“I wouldn’t be here without you, Quinn Whitfield. You made my dreams come true. All of them. I love you so much. Thank you for being so patient and strong and generous. Thank you for being the best friend I’ll ever have.”
His eyes softened. “You’re the one who made all this happen, Ames. You’re the one who never lost faith.”
His hair was rumpled and he was a gorilla from the neck down, but her husband was still the best-looking, sexiest, most wonderful man she’d ever known.
She smiled as she handed him his head back. “If you play your cards right, we can hook up for a little grooming behavior later on.”
Quinn’s dark eyes lit with interest. If ever she’d needed it—and she didn’t—his unending, apparently inexhaustible desire for her was the ultimate reassurance that her feelings were more than reciprocated.
“Where? When?” he asked.
“How about the projectionist’s room, in an hour?”
“Make it forty minutes and you’ve got a deal.”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. For sixteen years she’d fantasized about what it would be like to be loved by Quinn. Reality far surpassed any dream she’d ever had.
“Anytime, anywhere.”
She waited until he’d put the gorilla head on, then she took his arm and walked through the archway to greet their guests.
It was going to be a great night.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5253-4
HER BEST FRIEND
Copyright © 2010 by Small Cow Productions Pty Ltd.
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