“Dry drowning has that risk. It makes kids tired and you think they’re just sleeping like normal.”
Dean looks down at the floor, probably overwhelmed by how close they could have come to losing Jackson.
“I’m sorry I’ve been an ass,” he finally says.
“I’m sorry too.”
Dean takes in a slow breath. “It’s still weird as fuck, but my sister seems really happy.”
“I’m really happy too.” I lean against the wall. “This wasn’t just some hookup that turned into a mistake. I’ve liked Quinn for a while.”
Dean flicks his eyes to mine “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I knew you’d act like a fucking twat about it.”
Dean gives me a half smile. “You weren’t wrong.” He leans against the wall opposite me. “How long’s a while?”
“Years.” Twelve years to be exact. I wanted Quinn the first time I laid eyes on her back when I was eighteen and she was fourteen. Sharing that tidbit of info can come later. Way later. If I ever share it at all.
“I didn’t know.”
“I made sure you didn’t.”
“Look,” I start. “I get that it’s weird. But we’re together now. We’re having a baby. Quinn puts on a tough face, but I know it upsets her that you aren’t supportive.”
“I do support her. And you. You…I support you both.”
“Then tell her.”
Dean nods. “But being due two days before my wedding?”
“Like we planned that. We didn’t even plan to get pregnant.” If I wanted to be petty, I’d point out Quinn’s due date was determined weeks before they picked a wedding date anyway.
“Want to get coffee?” Dean asks, pushing off the wall.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
We start down the hall, not sure where we’re going. Dean’s not really going to get coffee this late at night but is using it as an excuse to talk. Which is fine with me.
“So, are you two going to get married or at least move in together?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Quinn wants to take things slow. Obviously we hadn’t been together long before we found out she was pregnant.” We weren’t really together at all. She got pregnant the first or second time we ever had sex.
“I know you’ll do the right thing,” he replies. “Just don’t hurt her. I’ll be forced to take her side, you know.”
I laugh, suddenly seeing a bit more into why Dean freaked out so much. It’s not just about the betrayal of the unspoken bro-code, but the fear of things becoming awkward between us if Quinn and I don’t work out.
“I’d want you to.”
We reach the end of the hall and stop, looking at the map of the hospital tacked to the wall by the elevators. This place is small and dated. I’d hate working here after being in a big and busy hospital full of the newest medical equipment.
“They’re going to tear this place down,” Dean says distantly as we turn around, realizing there’s nowhere in here to get food or coffee. “No one is supposed to know yet since it hasn’t been approved, but we put in a bid to work on the new hospital.”
“New hospital?”
“Yeah. The plans are huge. It’ll be replacing this hospital and the one in Newport. It goes to the city council next week.”
“And if it gets approved?”
“Then construction crews will be picked, and we’ll break ground right away. Why, are you interested?”
“More curious,” I say, which is true. A brand-new hospital full of brand-new equipment would be nice.
Raising our child in the safe town of Eastwood would be even nicer.
15
Quinn
I lean back in my chair, wiping tears from my eyes. A logical part of my brain tells me I need to stop. But for some reason, I lack all self-control and don’t click away. Someone knocks on my office door, and I look up, prepared to hide behind my monitor if need be.
But it’s just Marissa, and I wave her in.
“Oh my God,” she says and comes around to my desk. “Stop watching those clips of dogs greeting their owners after they come home from the military.”
“But it’s so sweet!”
“You have mascara dripping down your face.”
“I didn’t wear any today.”
She hikes an eyebrow. “Then it’s yesterday’s leftover mascara.”
I grab a tissue from my desk drawer. “That’s likely.” I wipe my eyes and close the viral video. “Did you come in here just to yell at me?”
“I wish I did.” She looks behind her, making sure no one is lingering by my door. “I heard Raul and Mike talking.”
“They talk all the time.”
“About you,” she presses. “Someone started a rumor about you being pregnant and now everyone is curious. Raul wants to throw you a baby shower.”
“No showers at work. You know I feel weird when people buy me presents. And why would they think that?”
Marissa widens her eyes. “The weird food. The way you get teary-eyed at pretty much everything now. And yesterday you wore that Valentino cape dress and it totally showed off your bump. Which really just means you should give it to me until you’re not pregnant anymore. Or just forever.”
“It is a really nice dress. It makes me feel like a fancy, sexy superhero.”
“And it’s also sold out at Nordstrom.”
“Fine. You can borrow it. What weird food? I haven’t eaten anything weird.”
Marissa looks at the plate on my desk. “Is that a hot dog wrapped in cheese that you’re dipping in ranch?”
“Maybe. But that’s not weird.”
“Oh, no, not at all. In fact, I got one from that food truck down the street, uh, never ago.”
“All right. It’s weird. But I’m finally starting to get my appetite back.” I subconsciously wrap my fingers around my left wrist, making a face.
“Yes! Another thing to yell at you about.”
“Huh?”
Marissa points to my wrist. “I was in your office when you were on the phone with Archer yesterday, remember? He told you to stop taking the brace off.”
“Oh, right. It’s hard to type with it on and it’s just so annoying.”
Marissa laughs. “I’m sure it is.” She sits in the chair across from my desk. “He’s coming into town tomorrow?”
“Yeah. He’s off Thursday through Saturday.”
“How are you holding up with this long-distance thing?”
I pick up my hotdog and dip it in ranch. Okay, maybe I am getting a few weird pregnancy cravings. “It’s not fun, but I guess it’s okay. I mean, I did want to take things slow.”
“You’re such a terrible liar, Quinn. Even to yourself.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Bullshit. You want to take things slow? Really?”
I let out a breath. “We should take things slow. I don’t want him to be with me just because I’m having his baby. We weren’t dating when I got pregnant.”
“But you’re dating now, and even you have to admit Archer has gone above and beyond for you.”
“Yeah,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face. “He has. And that’s why it scares me. This is new and exciting…what happens if it fizzles out?”
Marissa shrugs. “I’m not one to give relationship advice since I’ve been chronically single since I turned twenty-one, but isn’t that always a risk with a relationship? You do romantic things to keep it going. You’ve had a crush on Archer for years. Your feelings aren’t going to fizzle out.”
“I know mine won’t.” I rest my hands on my stomach, feeling so much love for my little Emma. “I want things to work between us,” I start, knowing the truth’s been inside me this whole time. “And I’m worried I’m forcing something that wouldn’t otherwise be there. Does that even make sense?”
“Yeah, and I see your point. You’re a practical person—most of the time. But love isn’t practical. You’ve lik
ed Archer since you’ve known him, and you told me he said he liked you before you two hooked up. So yeah, you got pushed into a relationship, but the feelings were there on both sides.”
Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I wipe them away, annoyed with myself for how emotional I become thanks to all the hormones. “Thanks, Mar. You’re right.”
“I usually am.” She gives me a smirk. “Now, tell me what you really want.”
“I want him to tell me he loves me, for him to get a job in Chicago, and for us to move in together and eventually get married,” I blurt.
“See? How hard was that. Now…do you think Archer knows you want that?”
I shake my head. “Maybe. I don’t want to freak him out or anything. He really wants a fellowship to do trauma surgery and he can’t really pick and choose where he’ll get placed.”
“How does that make you feel?” Marissa asks, doing her best Dr. Phil impression.
“I’d rather him be done with school so we can be together,” I say, sticking with this honesty thing. “But it’s only a year or two and it’s his dream.”
My phone buzzes and my eyes widen when I pick it up. “It’s a group text from Dean. To me and Archer.”
“Ohhh!” Marissa leans forward. “What does it say?”
I open the message and quickly read it. “He’s asking if certain dates work for the bridal shower because he wants to make sure we both can go.”
“Wow, progress! All it took was Archer saving your nephew’s life to get him to turn around.”
“I know, right?”
“Speaking of, how is Jackson?”
“Much better. He came home from the hospital yesterday and is having a hard time resting because he just wants to play.”
“That’s good!”
I nod. It’s Wednesday afternoon, but Jackson jumping into the pool still feels like yesterday. “It still freaks me out how fast things happened. He was only underwater for a few seconds and could have—”
“Stop. You’re going to start crying again. He’s fine.”
“Right. He is.” I wipe my eyes for good measure, just in time because Raul knocks on my office door, asking if I could go over some coding with him.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” I say with a smile.
“Thanks, boss lady.” He smiles back and looks down at my hotdog. “Interesting lunch.”
“You’re right,” I whisper to Marissa as soon as Raul leaves. I’m going to have to talk to HR sooner rather than later about arranging for my maternity leave anyway. And people are going to find out in time. I unlock my phone and open Instagram. I have an oddly high number of followers thanks to an article Forbes did on me right after I sold the app to Apple. I’m not that interesting of a person, but I do find the best funny memes to share.
I upload my favorite picture of Archer and me from this weekend, heart fluttering when I look at it. We’re standing by the pink balloons, and looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. My hair is tucked awkwardly behind my ear, but we both look so happy.
So in love.
Archer’s hand is on my stomach, and his smile is genuine. Man, I miss him. Tomorrow is too far away. Long distance sucks.
“We cannot wait for spring. Hashtag thirteen weeks. Hashtag baby girl,” I say out loud as I type.
“Don’t forget hashtag blessed.”
“And grateful. Please. I might be basic, but I know enough not to flaunt it around on social media,” I laugh and post the photo. But I really do feel those things.
Me: I told you, I’ll get fired if I do that.
Logan: Come on, sis. Live a little.
Weston: As an officer of the law I must remind you…it’s only illegal if you get caught.
Me: Guys, I don’t know…I really like my job.
Owen: You’d be the coolest sister ever if you did this.
Me: I’m already the coolest sister.
Logan: Dean’s only getting married once.
Owen: That’s debatable. I still don’t see how Kara puts up with his ass. Think of it this way, Q: it’s the only bachelor party we’re throwing for him.
Me: Maybe…it’s risky. We’re still working bugs out of the prototype. I wouldn’t want you guys to get hurt.
Dean: You guys are assholes. Mom told me the Batmobile isn’t real and all that footage is fake.
I crack up, reading Dean’s text twice. We’ve been going at this all day, with my other brothers trying to convince me to let them take the Batmobile out for the bachelor party.
Weston: It took MOM telling you it’s not real for you to get it? Jackson never once bought into it.
Owen: And he’s fucking THREE YEARS OLD
Logan: hahaha you’re never living this down, bro
I send a carefully doctored photo of me sitting behind the wheel of the Batmobile to the group text, still laughing as I imagine Dean’s pouting face right now.
Me: I guess it’ll just be me in this bad boy then. So long, suckers!
Logan: He’s believed this for FOUR FUCKING MONTHS, guys
Owen: I didn’t think we could keep it going for that long.
Weston: Q and I get all the credit.
Dean: Again. Assholes.
Something flutters in my stomach. I put my phone down, smile still on my face, and put both hands over my belly. Did I just feel Emma kick? My phone chimes again and again, and I know I’m missing a slew of texts from my brothers. I keep my hands pressed to my stomach, waiting for that feeling again. Deciding it’s just gas—I did have a burrito for lunch—I pick up my phone again and catch up on the texts from my brothers.
There’s another from Jacob, asking if we can get together when he’s back in town. I bite the inside of my cheek, not sure how to answer. I have no issue grabbing lunch with him if we’re with other people from work. And I don’t mind talking to him. We have a lot in common, and he does know my family. We’re better at being friends and fell flat romantically.
He was a practical boyfriend. I was moderately attracted to him, we worked in the same field, and lived near each other. It made sense to date him. I gave it a shot, and while I can’t say it was terrible, there just wasn’t a spark.
I have more than a spark with Archer. We have a raging fire. But we don’t have much in common. We work in total opposite fields. And we live hours apart.
“Love isn’t practical,” I say out loud. And then it hits me what I just said. Love. I’m in love with Archer.
Tapping my fingers on my desk, I start to type a reply to Jacob. He still follows me on Instagram, so he has to know I’m pregnant and with Archer. I delete what I’m typing and start again, finally agreeing to have a ‘working lunch’ with him the week he gets back. He responds with a smiley face and I go back and read my message, wondering if I was too callous. I don’t want to lead him on…this is only this hard for me, I’m sure.
Silencing my phone, I go back to work, wrapping up a final system check on a program we’re launching next month. I find a few things to tweak, make notes, and go back through it again.
I have to stop to pee for the second time since lunch. If I wasn’t so damn thirsty all the time, I’d lay off beverages until I got home. It’s getting a bit annoying to use the bathroom more than normal, and I know it’ll only get worse.
When I get back to my office, I see I missed a call from Archer. I sit back in my chair, put my wrist brace back on and call him.
“Hey, babe,” he says right away. It sounds like he’s outside near a road. “How’s work?”
“It’s all right. I’m busy, but it’s going by slow since I know I’ll get to see you soon. Are you done with surgery?”
“I didn’t get to do it. My patient ate three hours before he got here. We had to reschedule the operation.”
“Wow. Way to listen to doctor’s orders.”
“I know. And it wasn’t like a quick drink of water and something small to eat. He went out to breakfast.”
I let out a snort of laughter. “I
’m glad you found out.”
“It was obvious. He had bacon stuck in his teeth.”
“So does that mean you’re done for the day?”
“It does. Or it did, I suppose. I’m already in Chicago.”
“Are you serious?” I bring my hand to my chest, smiling like a fool.
“I am. I’ve been here a while, actually. I tried to find a spot to park close to your apartment. It took a while, but I wanted to surprise you.”
“That’s twice in a row you did. I need to step it up and surprise you,” I say, very glad now I got new lingerie to wear for him tonight. “Where are you now?”
“Almost to your office building.”
My eyes fill with tears and I shake my head at myself. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too. You’re almost done with work, right? I don’t want to interrupt your day.”
“I am. I have like half an hour left and I’m wrapping up for the day. I can’t believe you’re here!”
“Believe it, babe. How’s Jackson doing? Dean said he came home from the hospital.”
“You guys are talking again?”
“We are. He called and asked if I wanted to come to the bachelor party.”
“That’s great! You’re going, right?”
“If I can. The party is in April, and by then, I’ll officially be a surgeon and no longer a resident.”
“Right! You’re done at the end of the year.”
“I’m counting down the days,” he says with a laugh. I don’t know why I more or less forgot about him finishing his residency before Emma is born. In my mind, the two happened at the same time. But he’ll have a new job before she’s born, which is good, right?
“Jackson’s doing well. Thanks to you.”
“You all can stop thanking me. I’m a doctor. Noticing illness and injury is part of my job. Though it has been a few seconds since I brought up that I’m a doctor. I can see how you could forget.”
“You better wear a name tag that says Dr. Jones on it or something.”
“I’ll add in MD and the fact that I’m a surgeon. I don’t want people thinking I just have a lowly PhD or something.”
Dawson Family Boxset (Books 1-3) Page 36