The Gritty Truth

by Melissa Foster

  Roni warmed all over.

  “Did he just say…?” Quincy’s brows slanted. “That’s my girl, buddy.”

  “There’s enough of me to go around,” Roni said, taking Lincoln and settling him on her hip. He wrapped his arms around her neck, grinning like he’d won a prize.

  “Guess I can’t fault the boy for knowing a hot babe when he sees one,” Quincy said as he took off his jacket, looking handsome and delicious in a gray Henley.

  “I wanna be a hot babe like Miss Woni,” Kennedy chimed in.

  Quincy scowled, and Roni and Penny exchanged an amused glance.

  Roni tried not to laugh at the quandary in Quincy’s expression and offered Kennedy her hand. “How about we check out the ice cream?”

  Penny patted Quincy on the back and said, “Breathe, Uncle Q. She’s only five.”

  “I want a special movie sundae,” Kennedy exclaimed. “A happy-ending sundae!”

  Quincy slid such a heated look at Roni, her pulse quickened.

  “Looks like Uncle Quincy wants one, too,” Penny said with a chuckle.

  Quincy’s eyes never wavered from Roni’s as he said, “Only from my girl.”

  “Uncle Quincy, Miss Woni doesn’t make sundaes,” Kennedy said. “Only Penny does.”

  “I think I’ll leave Uncle Quincy’s happy ending to Roni,” Penny said.

  The kids chattered as Penny made their sundaes, and Quincy put his hand on Roni’s back, whispering about happy endings and making out in the back of a movie theater when the kids weren’t with them. She loved their secret sexiness.

  Quincy sat between the kids as they ate, simultaneously wiping Lincoln’s mouth and responding to Kennedy’s litany of remarks and stories, adding more reasons for Roni to swoon over him. He even let Lincoln feed him ice cream, and he gleefully missed a few times, feeding Quincy’s scruff instead of his mouth.

  Roni gave him the remaining napkins and got up to get more.

  Penny was finishing up with a customer. When the customer left, Penny said, “Let me get you a wet paper towel. Quincy will let Lincoln get ice cream all over him before he’s done.”

  Roni glanced at him again as Penny went to the sink and said, “He’s a natural with them.”

  “Yeah, he’ll make a great dad someday. Just one of the many reasons so many single ladies in the Harbor show up for his readings at the bookstore.”

  “I know,” Roni said, feeling a pang of jealousy. Quincy glanced over and blew her a kiss, pushing that jealousy away. “I had fun getting to know you and Scott better at the bonfire. I really like him. You two seem happy together.”

  “Thanks. We are, but it’s still new. It’s weird transitioning from friends to something more.” Penny handed her the wet paper towels and a dry washcloth.

  It was funny, because Roni hadn’t felt like it was weird for her and Quincy, but they hadn’t known each other nearly as well as Penny and Scott did. Roni had learned that friendships ran deep among their friends. Penny had called Quincy a number of times since they’d been together, and she lit him up in a different way than Roni did—a friendly way, like Angela did for Roni. She was glad they had each other.

  “It turns out I like Scott way more than I thought I did,” Penny said.

  “It’s funny how that creeps up on us, isn’t it?” She glanced at Quincy and said, “I’m head over heels for you know who. Even hearing his voice makes me happy.”

  “I’m glad because he is crazy about you, too. He was really distraught after he told you about his past. I’m glad you took a chance on him, because he’s worth it.”

  “I know he is. But I don’t like thinking of it as me taking a chance on him. Don’t we all take chances with every relationship? I know the risks of dating someone in recovery are different, but he’s not a chance. He’s who I want to be with, and I’ll support him however I can.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Penny said.

  “What about you and Scott? Do you think it’s serious? He seems great with the kids.”

  “He is, but I don’t know if we’ll ever get that far. I don’t think kids are in Scott’s future,” Penny said forlornly.

  “Why not?”

  “I think the abuse he went through with his parents scares him. He makes comments about how being an uncle is enough for him. And I’ve always wanted kids, so…”

  “I hate that they went through so much. But we don’t all become our parents. I get why Scott’s scared, but look at Quincy and Tru. Quincy might have fallen down a rabbit hole, but he climbed out, and he’s on a great path. Look at Sarah and Josie. They’re great with their kids. If they can move past the way their mom treated them, I’m sure Scott can, too.” She glanced at Quincy as he tried to stick his spoon in Lincoln’s ice cream, and Lincoln covered it with his hands, making Kennedy roar with laughter. “I keep wondering how Quincy and Tru learned to be so patient and loving when their mother was so awful. I don’t think Quincy gives himself enough credit where the kids are concerned.”

  Penny turned her back to Quincy, speaking just above a whisper, and said, “He feels bad for not getting them into a safer situation sooner than when Tru found them.”

  “But he tried several times. His mother kept sending people after him,” Roni said quietly. “He got beat up for it, and he never left the kids alone.”

  “Really? I didn’t know he tried to get them out.”

  Roni’s nerves prickled. “Oh. I assumed he told you.” She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake.

  “He didn’t, but that sounds more like the Quincy I know.”

  Lincoln put his hand in his ice cream, and Kennedy yelled, “Lincoln!”

  Quincy picked up Lincoln’s hand by his wrist and said, “Hey, beautiful, think we can get those napkins?”

  “Igoticeceambooful!” Lincoln said.

  “I see that,” Roni said with a laugh. He was so stinking cute. She went to the table and wiped Lincoln’s hands, then tapped him on the tip of his nose. “There you go, little man.”

  Kennedy popped out of her seat and said, “Penny, wanna see me dance?”

  “Let’s get those sticky hands clean first,” Roni said, and Kennedy held her hands out for her to wipe them.

  With clean hands, Kennedy sashayed and twirled around the room and said, “Look at me, Penny! Look what I can do! Will you come to my dance show?”

  Lincoln toddled behind her, yelling, “Metoo!”

  “Absolutely,” Penny said, wiping down the table as they danced.

  Quincy put his arm around Roni and said, “There’s never a dull moment around them.”

  Her nerves prickled again. “I think I made a mistake.”

  “Just now?” he asked as the kids giggled and danced around the store.

  She nodded.

  “I doubt that. What happened?”

  “I thought Penny knew that you had tried to get the kids away from your mom. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was a secret.”

  “Only Tru and Gemma know, but it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  “But you guys are so close,” she whispered. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

  He held her tighter and lowered his voice. “Because she’s a friend. She didn’t need to know all the gory details.” He glanced at Penny, sweeping Lincoln into her arms and dancing with him, then turned his honest eyes on Roni and said, “She was never going to be in my bed or in my life the way I’d hoped you were going to be. I wanted you to make your decision knowing absolutely everything, the good and the bad, so there were no surprises, no skeletons that could ruin us later.”

  “I appreciate that, and I’m sorry for mentioning it to her.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, babe. You can talk about my past with anyone.” He pressed his lips to hers, soothing her worries.

  Kennedy yelled, “Miss Woni, dance with us!”

  “IdancewifBooful!” Lincoln wriggled out of Penny’s arms, making a beeline for Roni.

  Quincy squeezed her hand and said,
“Looks like we have a dance party to join.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  QUINCY LOOKED UP from the apples he was slicing Thanksgiving morning to watch Roni swaying to the beat of “Cornelia Street” streaming from her phone as she mixed ingredients for the apple pies they were making. How had this become his life? Sharing his time with this incredible woman? Going to sleep with her in his arms and waking to her sleepy snuggles and insatiable kisses? Sometimes he caught himself hoping the other shoe wouldn’t drop, but in the next breath she’d say or do something intimate or adorable, and he’d remember that shoes didn’t fall randomly from the sky. He was in control of those shoes, and they were remaining firmly on the ground.

  “I feel you looking at me,” she said with her back to him, still swaying to the music. “I love it, but we need the apples so we can get the pies in the oven.”

  Yeah, they were that in tune with each other. He went back to slicing the apples.

  They’d stayed at her apartment last night so she would have all of her grandmother’s baking utensils. They’d slept in, but as soon as her eyes had opened, she’d been so excited to make her grandmother’s famous apple pie, she’d snagged her sexy glasses, thrown on baggy sweatpants and a black tank top with DANCE HAIR DON’T CARE written across the chest, and dragged his ass out of bed. He’d tried to entice her into making love, but she was a bundle of nervous energy. While she was thrilled to be included in the Whiskey’s holiday celebration, she wanted to make sure the pies were just right. Come on! she’d urged, giving him his sweatpants, then tugging him out of bed by the hand. It’ll be fun, and I promise to make it up to you once we know the pies are perfect! She was so damn cute, there was no place he’d rather be than right there with her in the kitchen, soaking up all her sunshine.

  “Hey, babe, is it bad that I can’t stop thinking about the movie American Pie?” he asked.

  “What movie? I don’t think I’ve seen that one.”

  “American Pie. The scene where his friends tell him that uh, you know, feels like warm apple pie.”

  She turned with a wooden spoon in one hand, her nose wrinkled in confusion. “What feels like apple pie?”

  “You’ve seriously never heard about this scene?”

  “Guess not, sorry.” She shrugged and went back to mixing. “What’s so great about it?”

  “Baby, you will never look at apple pie the same again.”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “I doubt that.”

  “Okay, beautiful. It’s your appetite.” He chuckled and said, “The main character is played by Jason Biggs. He’s in high school, and he asks his buddies what it feels like to get to third base with a girl. They tell him it feels like warm apple pie. Then he comes home, and there’s fresh apple pie on the counter.”

  She turned around, eyes wide. “He didn’t.”

  “Oh yes, he did, and not just with his fingers.”

  “No!” She laughed and made a grossed-out face. “Ew!” She put her hand on her hip, sassily arching her brow, and said, “So? Does it?”

  “What?”

  “Does it feel like warm apple pie?”

  “How would I know? I’ve never fucked a pie.” He laughed and pulled her into his arms, crushing his lips to hers. “We’re watching that movie together this weekend.”

  “Fine, but you’re not putting your you know what in my pies.”

  “Baby, nothing could possibly feel as good as being buried deep inside you.” He took her in a moan-inducing kiss and then smacked her ass as she went back to making their perfect pies.

  “Time for the secret ingredient,” she said coyly.

  “What’s Gram’s secret?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and said, “I can’t tell you that. It wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”

  He wound his arms around her from behind, sliding his hands up her shirt, fondling her breasts, loving the appreciative noises she made. “Maybe I can pleasure it out of you.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said breathily.

  He sank his teeth into the curve where her shoulder met her neck, sucking gently. She writhed against him, reaching behind her to hold on to him.

  “That’s it, baby, touch me.”

  She twisted out of his grip, eyes full of lust, but pointed the wooden spoon at him and said, “Keep all that hotness over there. We can’t…I need to get these in the oven.”

  He stalked toward her. “I just want to know the secret ingredient.”

  “No you don’t,” she said with a giggle.

  He swept his arm around her, tugging her against him. “You’re right. I want all your secrets, Veronica Wescott, every damn one of them. And then I want to make our own secrets, our own traditions, our own everything.”

  She went soft in his arms. “You’re making me all melty again. I love when you say things like that.”

  “And I love when you’re all melty for me.”

  She gazed up at him with her beautiful, trusting eyes, stirring something deep inside him. He always wanted to devour her, but right now he just wanted to love her. The realization didn’t hit with the force of a hurricane; it hit as swift as the wind, touching every iota of his being, lifting and filling him up in ways that made him feel whole. Oh yeah, he was definitely falling in love with her, and nothing had ever felt so right in all his life.

  “Tapioca, extra sugar, and cinnamon,” she said softly, drawing him from his thoughts. “Those are Gram’s secret ingredients.”

  “And love,” he said. “You said she made her pies with love.”

  “Always,” she said just above a whisper.

  Their eyes held so long, he wondered if she felt it, too.

  “Oh gosh. The pies.” She laughed.

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What?”

  “The pies. We have to finish them and put in the secret ingredients. You put me under some kind of spell, and my head goes right up to the clouds.” She gave him a chaste kiss and turned back to the bowl.

  “This Girl Is on Fire” came on, and she began dancing again, humming along as they put the apples into the mixture, and she stirred them. He loved watching her dance. He’d arrived early to pick up Kennedy from her class yesterday just so he could watch Roni in action. Roni was great with the kids, and she’d finally gotten Dottie to dance with the other girls. He wasn’t surprised. He didn’t know how anyone could resist her charms. Elisa had seen him standing in the doorway and had stopped to chat. She’d raved about Roni, telling him how driven she had been from the time she was a little girl, and how quickly and immensely she’d stood out among her classmates. She said Roni had a rare gift when it came to dancing, and she went on to describe how hard Roni had worked to get into Juilliard, practicing night and day for hours on end, year after year. Elisa had said she’d pushed herself to painful limits after the accident so she could dance again, and that she’d hoped Roni would dance in the showcase. Angela had made comments about that at the bonfire, too. He knew Roni loved teaching, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she shouldn’t let go of her dream completely. There had to be another angle where she could get on that stage and feel good about it.

  Roni turned and tilted her head, looking quizzically at him, and he realized he was staring at her. “Like what you see?”

  “Hell yes.”

  She dragged her gaze down his bare chest and licked her lips, stirring the heat that was always simmering inside him for her, and said, “So do I, except something is missing.”

  “Your hands on my body?”

  “That, too,” she said with a giggle. “I guess you were so busy staring at me, you didn’t hear me ask you to please get the dough for the crust I made last night out of the fridge. We need to roll it out and get it ready.”

  “Sorry, babe. I didn’t hear that.” He grabbed it from the fridge and said, “I get a little lost in you.”

  “You don’t hear me complaining.”

  As she showed him how to roll the crust, line the bottom of th
e pan, and flute the edges, he stole kisses and nuzzled against her neck, earning as many eye rolls as needy sighs. He poured the apple mixture into the pie crusts while she swayed to the music, humming and bobbing her head as she cut the remaining dough into strips using a fluted cutter that created decorative edges.

  “Hey, babe. Elisa really wants you to dance in the Winter Showcase. Maybe you should give it some more thought.”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  He put the empty bowl in the sink and leaned against the counter as she began placing strips of dough over one of the pies and weaving them to create lattice. “But you said you like teaching the kids that they can shine no matter what. Don’t they deserve to see you, as their mentor, doing just that?”

  She kept her eyes trained on the pie. “Did Elisa ask you to talk me into it?”

  “No, and that’s not my intent. But she did tell me how hard you worked to become so good at dancing, and I know you said you don’t want to bring others down, but I keep thinking that seeing you dance can’t help but lift those kids up.”

  She continued working with the dough, remaining silent.

  “Is there more to this than just not being perfect or bringing others down?” he asked. “Because you’re perfect to me, and Elisa said you’re still head and shoulders above any dancer she’s ever worked with.”

  “You have no idea what it’s like to have to basically learn to walk again, much less dance.”

  His chest constricted. “You’re right, but I know how hard it is to face something much bigger than me every day of my life and to make a conscious choice to beat it no matter what the cost or embarrassment. Because my dream is to remain drug free, and I’ll die before I’ll let anything drag me back into that hellhole.”

  She lifted her eyes to his and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I know how hard recovery is.”

  “Then open up to me, baby.” He reached for her hand, drawing her into his arms, and said, “You pushed through rehabilitation for a reason, and you’ve taken on the challenge of a lifetime with me, which proves you’re not the kind of person who shies away from them.” He kissed her forehead. “I will support you one hundred percent either way. I just want to understand your decision.”