After the End (23 page)

“Sure you are.” Brady leaned down to brush his lips against her forehead. “You’re a regular superwoman.”

“Invincible,” Beatrice agreed. Her gaze went to me and she smiled again, holding out one hand. “You must be Quinn. I’ve heard a
lot
about you.”

I stood, a bit awkwardly, but I took her hand in a gentle shake, shooting Brady a look. “Have you? I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.”

“Oh, no, trust me.” Bea settled back against her pillows, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “It’s
very
good. You’re the first guy whose last name I’ve heard.”

Brady groaned. “Okay, sis. Enough talking. You should rest.”

“Come on, resting is boring. I want to talk to your boyfriend.” Beatrice smirked up at Brady and I was struck all over again by how similar they looked. Brady had given me that teasing look more than once. It must be a family trait. “So, you’re doing Banner Christmas, huh?”

“Yeah,” I returned, sitting on the opposite side of the bed. Brady’s hand found mine easily, an almost unconscious gesture. “I’m all in for chestnuts roasting on open fires and something nipping my nose. The whole nine yards.”

“You know, you’re going to be the first guy Brady’s even introduced to Mom and Dad, much less brought home for the holiday.” Beatrice wrinkled her nose at me, smiling. “So, you good enough for my brother?”

“Bea….” Brady protested, hiding his face in his hand. “God, you don’t just
ask
stuff like that.”

“What?” She was giving Brady an entirely innocent look. “I just suffered a
trauma
, Bray.” Those wicked brown eyes went back to me, Bea folding her hands on her lap expectantly. “Well?”

“Probably not” was my answer, and it seemed to please her.

“Is Brady your first boyfriend?”

“Come on—” Brady’s expression was kind of hilarious, really. I shared a grin with Beatrice.

“No. I had a partner for a little more than ten years. His name was Aaron and he died about two years ago. Before that, I dated three men, none of them for more than a couple months.”

She absorbed that and nodded, considering me. “You want to get married again?”

Hesitating, I nodded, and she immediately followed up the question with, “What about kids?”

“She really is just like your mom,” I muttered to Brady, who had given up trying to interject protests and was sitting there looking resigned.

“You don’t have to answer her,” he informed me, shooting her a glare. “She’s being nosy.”

“Well
someone
has to ask these things,” she returned haughtily. “This is a big deal.”

“I like the idea of kids,” I answered into their bickering, and both of them turned to look at me. Brady’s face softened, and I found myself smiling a little at him, shyly. “Aaron and I didn’t because we never got around to it. We were both busy. But I think we would have. And I think I’d like it,
if
”—I arched an eyebrow at Beatrice—“I was involved with someone like that again. I wasn’t really married to Aaron, not legally. It
wasn’t
legal when we were together. So marriage is kind of… I don’t know. I think it’d be nice, to have the piece of paper and all that.”

“You were married,” Brady murmured, squeezing my hand. “Paper doesn’t mean anything, not really.”

It was my turn to smile at him, and I shrugged. “Well. He was mine and I was his. So I guess that’s a marriage. And yeah, kids, if I got to have that kind of relationship again.”

Beatrice was watching us both with a little smile. She leaned back against the pillows, looking satisfied. And exhausted. I was tired just watching her fight to keep her eyes open.

“Okay. I guess maybe I’ll share the cranberries with you.”

I laughed. “Thanks.”

Beatrice nudged her brother. “You promised you’d come home early so I can help you design office furniture. Don’t forget.”

“Bea is a great craftsman,” Brady told me.

“Crafts
person
,” Bea corrected him sleepily.

“Right, craftsperson.” Brady smiled, running his hand through her hair. “She creates the most beautiful things. She’s going to make me a desk.”

“And wooden bowls, but that’s a surprise,” she mumbled, head listing to the side as her eyes drifted, finally, closed. “With dragons.”

“Dragons?” I asked, amused, but she was asleep again.

“I love fairy tales,” Brady explained as we stood, as he tucked the covers more firmly around his sister. “My sisters used to tease me that I really just wanted to be a knight when I grew up.” He shot me a little smile. “They weren’t wrong.”

As we climbed back into the bed, the springs creaking under us, the sheets too thin to be truly comfortable, I couldn’t find it in me to complain. Beatrice was alright. She’d been talking and laughing. She didn’t have that hollow, pale look of the nearly gone. And Brady was right there, his body curled around mine, arm slung across my waist. We were together and everything really was going to be fine.

“
T
RACY
! I can’t find my tie. Do you know what I did with my tie? And my shoes. And oh, God, my notes. Anna wanted me to give a speech and I can’t find my notes or my shoes and—”

Grabbing my shoulders, Tracy forced me to stop pacing around the small back room. “Quinn. Breathe,” she snapped at me.

I tried to obey, but it felt like a thousand panicked butterflies were beating their wings against my stomach. Pressing my hands to my chest as I heaved in air, I stared at her, wide-eyed. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

Tracy, good friend that she was, rolled her eyes at me. “You are not, you big baby.” Finding my tie draped over the back of a chair, she hooked it around my neck and tugged it straight so she could tie it. “Okay, repeat after me. You are going to be fine.”

I gave her a skeptical look, but Tracy simply arched one eyebrow at me, waiting. Giving in, I muttered, “I’m going to be fine.”

She nodded, tying the knot in my tie, making sure it was perfect. “You have worked hard on this show.”

“I have worked hard on this show,” I parroted back dutifully.

“It’s going to be a success,” she prompted.

I sighed, again giving her an exasperated expression, but Tracy simply met my gaze. “It’s
going
to be a success, Quinn,” she told me again.

“Fine.” Shaking my arms out, trying to disperse some of that nervous energy, I nodded. “It’s going to be a success.”

I wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence about that fact, but Tracy fussed over my jacket, making sure the collar was even, and she looked so damn
calm
. Everyone had looked calm, even Annabeth, who kept breezing in and out of the room, telling me how much longer I had until I needed to make an appearance. How the hell Brady had managed to put this all together while doing his normal jobs and with Beatrice still in recovery, I’d never know. He was superman. I was lucky I’d finished the last piece two nights before the exhibit.

Speak of the devil. Brady poked his head in with a grin. “Knock, knock.”

“Your boyfriend is freaking,” Tracy greeted him dryly. “And I need to go make sure my wife doesn’t need anything. Can you take over?”

“I’ve got him,” Brady smiled, kissing her cheek. She patted his shoulder affectionately and took off, black dress swishing around her knees, heels clicking across the wooden floor. Brady himself was in a charcoal gray suit and a green tie; all together his outfit made him look indescribably good. I kind of wished my whole art show was just him on a pedestal. It’d be the most beautiful thing in the room by far.

“I have to give a speech,” I told him miserably.

Brady chuckled softly and ran his hands down my arms. He’d insisted I get a new suit for the occasion. I thought I looked ridiculous. He said purple brought out my eyes; the plum tie and waistcoat, though, I was pretty sure just made me seem like a kid who’d wandered into his dad’s wardrobe. “You have to say a few words, that’s all. Hi. Thanks for coming. Try the veal.”

“There’s veal?” I worried.

“It’s a joke, babe.” Brady kissed the bridge of my nose. “Take a deep breath.” He waited patiently while I did so, his hand rubbing my back as I slowly let it out again. “Good. Okay? This is going to be fine. There’s wine and food and pretentious people all ready to talk about how brilliant you are.”

I wrinkled my nose at him, but some of that tight panic was easing out of me. Brady was good at that. “I’m glad you’re here.” I leaned against him with a quiet sigh. “I’m not good in front of groups.”

“I’ll be right in the back where you can see me,” he promised, lips brushing against my ear. “If you get nervous, just look at me. Pretend like you’re only talking to me.”

I nodded, tipping my head up to catch his lips in a slow kiss. “I like talking to you,” I murmured, feeling him start to smile.

“I know.” He nipped playfully at my lower lip. “I’m very charming.”

“It’s true. Will my charming, very handsome boyfriend be coming by tonight?” I wrapped my arms around his waist, liking how Brady would shift closer when I did so. “And you do, by the way. Look absolutely handsome tonight. Kind of unfairly gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” He grinned. “You look rather amazing yourself.” We kissed again, soft and sweet, and the butterflies in my stomach beat for a different reason altogether. “I’m going to the hospital tonight to sit with Bea, though. I might be late.”

“So be late,” I shrugged. “Or I could go with you?”

The smile he gave me was brilliant; it crinkled the corners of his eyes and lightened up his face, sending a warm ache all through my chest. “Yeah,” he agreed, lacing our fingers together. “If you want to.”

“So long as I’m not being a nuisance.” Our foreheads bumped together and Brady huffed out a quiet laugh.

“You, Mr. O’Malley, will never be a nuisance.” He teasingly tugged on my tie. “She’s getting released day after tomorrow. I had to convince Mom and Dad not to drive back out here as soon as they heard.”

“I’m still kind of amazed they left at all,” I admitted.

“Well, I promised to watch out for her.” Brady shrugged. “And Dad had some jobs to finish. I don’t think they’d ever have walked out of the hospital, much less gone home, if I wasn’t here.”

“We’ll go see her tonight.” I liked Beatrice. We’d had an epic Scrabble game the other night, and I had to go back and try and earn back my dominance. “When are you going to drive her home?”

“Day after Thanksgiving.” He grinned. “She’s excited about spending the holiday with us. I think she’s under the impression I’m actually going to let her make the stuffing.”

“This is a Banner thing, isn’t it?” I guessed. I was right, judging by Brady’s sheepish look.

“The stuffing is very important,” he informed me wisely, and I nodded, somber, trying to keep the teasing gleam out of my eyes.

“Good thing my entire contribution will be the wine. I wouldn’t want to get in the middle of that competition.”

A quiet knock at the door interrupted us. “Everyone decent in here?” It was Conner in his waiting suit, empty tray tucked under his arm. Giving me a smile, he turned to Brady, voice lowering to a hush. “We’ve got a slight”—he saw Brady’s eyebrows wing up and emphasized again—“
slight
ricotta ball crisis. It seems our oil is not getting to temperature and frying them results in, well. Mush.”

Eyes closing briefly, Brady sighed. “Mush,” he repeated. “Fantastic.”

Oh, Christ. People were out there eating mush. They were going to eat mush and then they were going to hate me before I even showed my pieces. “I don’t even know what ricotta balls are,” I told Brady, panicked again.

“Hey.” His hands cupped mine and he smiled at me, calm. Everyone else was so
calm
. “It’s okay, babe. I’ve got this. Everything is perfect.
You
are perfect.”

I filled my lungs with slow, deep breaths over and over, and nodded. “I’m glad you’re here,” I told him again earnestly.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” Brady tucked a strand of my hair back and rubbed his thumb across my cheek. “Alright. I’m going to go make sure everyone’s eating and happy. Do you want some wine or something?”

“I can grab a glass,” Conner volunteered, but I shook my head.

“No. No, I’m fine. Thanks.” Kissing Brady softly, I repeated, “I’m fine. Go, be awesome. I’ll see you when it’s over?”

“Definitely. Remember, I’m going to be in the back, watching you be amazing.”

They both left me alone. Pacing the room again, I closed my eyes, muttering to myself. I knew what I wanted to say. How I needed to present my work to the crowd. It was just so much
harder
to do with everyone staring at me. I’d never been good in front of people. Knowing they were all shortly going to be judging my art only made it harder.

I could hear the murmur of voices growing louder. I was expecting twenty people at most; really, I hadn’t done anything in two years, and I hadn’t exactly been Ansel Adams before that. Anna was good at her job, but even she couldn’t promote me that well. It was a week until Thanksgiving, people already in holiday mode. There was a reason she hadn’t found anyone else to showcase these two weeks. But even twenty people were more than I thought I might be ready for. Hell, no one but Annabeth had seen the work yet.