The Replacement Wife (14 page)

A
knock on her door woke Montana from her sleep. She squinted to focus her eyes and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was five in the morning. She thought,
Somebody better be on fire or in need of a tetanus shot, because it's too early for this.

Montana scrambled out of her bed and mumbled, “Hold on,” while she grabbed her robe and slippers.

Once she was decent, Montana opened the door, expecting to see Danielle or the twins. She was surprised that it was Quentin. Her hand immediately went to the bird's-nest-like hair on the top her head and tried to smooth it down.

“Hey, Quentin. Is everything all right?”

It was obvious to Montana that everything was absolutely not all right with Quentin. His eyes were puffy as though he had been crying, but he was fully dressed in his workout gear.

“Yeah. Everything is good. You want to go running with me?”

Montana cleared her throat. “Um . . . we don't have to wait for the sun?”

“No. Not if you stay close to me. I know the path. And the early-morning air is really invigorating.”

Even with his puffy eyes, Quentin was very hard to resist in his snug, muscle-hugging workout shirt. Who wouldn't want to go running in the dark with this tall glass of fineness? She wondered if this meant he'd forgiven her for the song.

“Can I get like ten minutes to shower and throw on some workout clothes?”

“You can have fifteen,” Quentin said. “You also need to brush your teeth and comb your hair.”

Montana covered her mouth and slammed the door to her room in Quentin's face. “Okay!” she said from behind the door.

Montana dashed into the bathroom and took a very quick shower, her excitement growing with every moment. Maybe she and Quentin would be friends again. She was growing weary of trying to avoid him in the house. A whole week had gone by without him saying a word to her.

She picked out a very cute pink and green outfit that she bought to wear with her new running shoes. Then, before putting it on, Montana drowned herself in the fragrance that Quentin had enjoyed before.

When she emerged from her bedroom, Quentin was leaning on the wall, with his arms folded across his chest.

“Look at you!” he said. “It's almost like you're a different person.”

“Ha, ha. Let's go running.”

Quentin looked her up and down, and his eyes stopped on her feet. He kneeled in front of her and Montana's heart fluttered. What was he about to do?

“Quentin?”

He held up one finger and pulled at her shoelaces. “That's what I thought. Your shoes are tied too tightly. It's going to make you uncomfortable. May I?”

“Oh, uh, sure. Go ahead.”

Quentin retied Montana's shoes and popped up from the floor when he was done. “Okay. You're ready now.”

Montana followed Quentin outside to his running path. It was right before dawn, so it wasn't as dark as Montana thought it would be. The sky had a purple-pink glow as the sun began its morning ascent.

“Stay close to me,” Quentin said. “See if you can keep up. I'll start out slow.”

In the beginning, Montana was able to match Quentin's speed, but because his legs were so long, Quentin began to outpace her. Montana adjusted her speed to keep up but soon got winded.

When she could go no farther without a break, Montana grabbed hold of a tree and took some deep breaths. Quentin didn't realize she wasn't behind him at first. Then he stopped and turned around.

Montana wanted to call out to him, but she couldn't catch her breath. She waved instead. Quentin came running back to where she was standing.

“You okay?” Quentin asked.

Montana nodded. “I think so. I just need . . . to catch my breath.”

How was Quentin not even winded? He had barely broken a sweat, and they'd been running for about twenty minutes.

“You're in great shape, Quentin. I can't keep up with you,” Montana admitted.

Quentin nodded. “You will be in great shape soon. You have to keep at it. Rest for a few minutes. I'll loop around and come back for you.”

“I'm gonna be in great shape soon? Really?” Montana asked jokingly.

“This is the first of many morning runs, Montana. I've never had a running buddy before. It's gonna be fun.”

Montana watched him run off and had to avert her eyes before her mind wandered too long over his incredible physique. This whole running buddy thing might not be a good idea. Quentin was way too attractive to be Montana's running partner. She'd need to go to the altar every Sunday, to ask for forgiveness.

When Quentin returned to the spot, Montana was leaning on the tree and breathing easily.

“You ready to go now?” he asked.

Montana smiled. She really wanted to go inside, eat some breakfast, and have some coffee. She took a swig from her water bottle and nodded.

“Good. This time, I'll go easier on you. Don't try to match my pace. I forgot that you are a tiny little thing, and your strides are a lot shorter than mine.”

Montana was tickled at being called a “tiny little thing.” It sounded so endearing that she wanted him to say it again.

They took off running again—or jogging, really. Montana felt her heart rate rise, and she remembered to breathe so that she didn't tire out too quickly.

Quentin stopped suddenly and turned around. “Can I ask you a question?”

“S-sure,” Montana was happy for the break.

“Is that guy who came to the brunch really your boyfriend? Chloe said you two were thinking of marriage at some point.”

Montana narrowed her eyes. That Chloe was such a hater. “No, he is not my boyfriend. He is my ex, and he was not my date at the brunch. That was all Chloe.”

Quentin laughed. “Chloe is a mess.”

“I don't think she truly likes me.”

“You don't say,” Quentin roared with laughter. “She doesn't want us to be friends.”

“Why would she have a problem with it? You two are getting married. I'm the nanny.”

Quentin took a few steps so that he was standing closer to Montana. “We're not getting married. I've never asked her to be my wife.”

“Well, I guess after five years a woman would assume . . .”

“That her man might never ask her for her hand in marriage,” Quentin said completing Montana's sentence.

“So if you're not going to marry her, why do you string her along?” Montana felt a little girl power coming over her. She wasn't anywhere close to being friends with Chloe, but she was not a fan of guys dogging women out.

Quentin looked away from Montana's demanding gaze when he answered. “I have always been up front with Chloe about the nature of our relationship.”

“Really?”

“I have physical needs, Montana . . .”

“That God intended to be provided for in a marriage. If you ask me, Chloe is crazy for letting you get what you need and not getting what she needs.”

“She gets what she needs too,” Quentin said.

Montana shook her head. He was starting to annoy her. “She needs to be a wife. She needs the security of marriage.”

“Are you Chloe's agent?” Quentin asked.

“No. I'm just saying that I would never stand for an arrangement like that.”

“And I wouldn't ask you to.”

Montana cocked her head to one side. “Quentin, what is this conversation about?”

“I'm not sure. I just wanted to know about your friend. Your ex, I mean.”

“But why? Why do you care? You have Chloe, and we're friends, so . . .”

Quentin cleared his throat. “I'm ending things with Chloe. It's time.”

“And you needed to know if I was available before you did that?” Montana asked, her voice going to another octave of annoyance.

Quentin shook his head and took Montana's hand. “I've been trying to figure out how to break it off for a while now. I-I've never had the motivation before.”

“And now?” Montana asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And now . . . Montana, you have been the first woman who has made me reconsider love again, since my wife died.”

“Quentin . . .”

“Montana, I am attracted to you in more than a physical way. There's something spiritual. I sat up all last night talking to God and finding music again. But I must be honest about something.”

“What's that?”

“I am still grieving my first wife. I think I might always feel some pain about losing her.”

Montana stared into Quentin's eyes, looking for a sign of anything insincere. “Quentin, you should ask God to help heal your heart before you move on to another relationship. You're hurting. I don't think you're ready . . . and I won't put my heart on the line, even though I am really tempted to say yes to what I think you're trying to ask me.”

“I'm trying to ask you to be more than my friend,” Quentin said. “After I break things off with Chloe.”

“Why don't you handle one thing at a time? First, do what you need to do with Chloe, and then . . . heal. Then, maybe, down the road we can talk.”

Quentin let Montana's hand go. There was a confused expression on his face. He probably hadn't expected her reaction. He was rich and handsome. He was probably expecting Montana to just say yes.

“Would you be with me? After all of that?” Quentin asked.

Montana shrugged. “I don't know. I'd be interested in finding out, though.”

Quentin smiled. “You're right, Montana. I do have some things to take care of before I can even think about pursuing a woman like you. I just wanted you to know how I felt.”

“You don't know what I'm like yet,” Montana said.

“I have an idea,” Quentin said.

She shook her head. “No, you don't. First thing, you'll have to chase me.”

Montana took off running toward the house. She felt so exhilarated at Quentin's revelations that she could've run five miles without a break. Quentin wanted to be her prince, but he was a broken prince. With a girlfriend that he needed to break up with, and a heart that needed mending.

It wasn't a perfect situation, but Montana didn't need perfection. She had her own skeletons and wondered what Quentin would think if he knew about her past. Would he still think she was so incredible if he knew? Montana planned to show Quentin only the new and improved, spirit-filled Cinderella. She'd leave that old woman in the past, where she belonged.

C
hloe stared across the restaurant table at Quentin. Something was wrong, she could tell. He wouldn't make eye contact, and he'd said only two words to her since he'd picked her up. She'd asked him to breakfast just to see what he was thinking.

“So the masquerade ball planning is coming along well. We're meeting with a caterer tomorrow.”

Quentin nodded. “You and my mother?”

“Yes, and Montana too. She's been my assistant, and we have similar tastes. It helps me to battle against your mother.”

Quentin shifted in his seat at the mention of Montana. Chloe didn't miss the movement.

“That should be good, then,” Quentin said.

“Yes, the potential caterer goes to church with us. He's the bishop's future son-in-law.”

“Darrin's a great chef. I've enjoyed his food before. And he actually cooked for us when Chandra died. We ate gourmet food for weeks.”

Why did Quentin bring up his dead wife? She was the last thing Chloe wanted to talk about. They'd always managed to avoid having conversations about her before, and Chloe didn't want to start now.

“Well, he's a great boyfriend too. He put a big rock on Emoni's finger, and I think they'll be getting married soon.”

“Good for them. They've been dating a long time.”

“Emoni has been punishing him because he cheated on her, but I think she's noticed the buzzards circling.”

This made Quentin smile. “Buzzards?”

“Yes, those desperate single women who don't want to work on a relationship. They want to swoop in on one that is struggling, just to capitalize on all the work the other woman has already put in. A good woman always improves a man.”

“Really? What have you done to improve me?”

Chloe scoffed. “What do you mean what have I done to improve you? I've done a lot, Quentin. I can't believe you!”

Quentin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Okay, tell me what you've done.”

“Well, for one, since we've been together you've enjoyed life more. You're more refined. You are more of a gentleman.”

Quentin nodded slowly. “Does it bother you that I don't go to church?”

Where was this coming from? That nanny was going to ruin everything!

“Why are you asking all of these questions?” Chloe asked, trying to stall so that she could think of an acceptable answer.

“I'm just curious. You go to church every week. Doesn't it bother you that I'm not there with you?”

Actually, it didn't bother her at all, but she was sure that wasn't the answer that Quentin was looking for. Chloe went to church mostly for the social aspects. Their church was the pulse of the upper-class community. It was how she found out who was seeing whom and what charity dinners and golf classics she needed to twist Quentin's arm into attending. If she got a word every now and then from Bishop Prentiss, then that was all good.

“Well, Quentin, I understand your reasons for not being there. I support you. When you're ready, you'll come back.”

“What if I'm never ready? What if I don't come back? That wouldn't bother you?”

Chloe sat her fork down on the table. “Quentin, the truth is that I love being with you. It wouldn't matter to me if you never set foot in a church again, as long as I have you to come home to.”

“So my soul's salvation means nothing?”

Chloe burst into laughter. “Oh, what do you want me to say, honey? We have sex every time we get the chance. Aren't we already going to hell?”

Quentin locked his jaw and frowned. “I suppose we should get right then, huh?”

“Does that mean we're going to get married?” Chloe asked, with a giggle in her voice. She hoped to turn their lunch date back into positive territory.

“Nope. But it means we won't be sleeping together anymore.”

Chloe dropped her fork along with her jaw. Maybe the nanny wasn't the problem at all. She couldn't have Quentin having a “come to Jesus” moment, not when she was so close to the prize.

“Okay, Quentin. I'm fine with that. But next time you wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, your body pulsating with need . . .”

“I'll pray really, really hard.”

“You won't last seventy-two hours.”

“Yes, I will. I'm not going to live a life of sin anymore. And sleeping with you isn't the only thing I'm giving up.”

Chloe's eyebrows shot up. “What else are you giving up.”

“Doesn't the Bible say that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God?”

“Maybe it does. I'm not familiar with that verse, though. What does that have to do with you? You care about your family's legacy, that much I do know.”

“You think I care about this money? You're wrong. I'm about to turn it all over to my children.”

“Well, of course. After you die, your children will inherit from you.”

Quentin shook his head. “Not after I die. Today. Right now. I'm giving this up to go and live at Transitions. My mother will make sure the children are taken care of, but I have to discover my true purpose.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Yes. I believe that my ministry is at Transitions.”

“Your ministry? So now the cancer patients are ministry? Don't you need money to run the foundation?”

Quentin said, “Mother will continue to fund the foundation. I will take a small salary from the budget and live in the house.”

“So you're just going to leave your kids?”

“They're almost grown, and they have a nanny. I will spend the weekends with them, but I need to be at Transitions during the week.”

Chloe's eyes darted from side to side. She was in panic mode. She didn't want a man who was in ministry with a vow of poverty. She wanted the fabulous life of a socialite.

“I know you were expecting to live a lavish socialite's life, but I'd still love to have your hand in marriage. You can be my ministry partner, and maybe you can get a job to keep you busy since I don't want any more children.”

“A job?”

“Yes. You can work at the foundation if you want. As long as we have each other, who needs the mansion and everything that comes with it?”

Chloe jumped to her feet. “I do! I need the mansion! I need jewels, vacations, shopping sprees, and all of that! Am I being pranked? Where are the cameras?”

“No, this is real, babe. Will you marry me?”

Chloe plopped back down in her seat at the table. Suddenly she felt hot, so she fanned herself with the cloth napkin. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead.

“Quentin . . . I need some time to think.”

“What do you need to think about? We've been together almost five years. You stepped in right after Chandra died.”

“I did.”

“And don't you think we should be married by now?”

Here was her chance to finally have Quentin! But she wanted the rich Quentin. Not a salaried Quentin.

Chloe reached across the table and took his hand. “Of course, I hoped that we would, but I understand that you needed time to finish grieving your first wife.”

Quentin snatched his hand away. “How long are you willing to wait?”

“As long as it takes to get my prize.”

“Is the prize me . . . or my money?” Quentin asked, sure that he already knew the answer to that question.

“You and your money are a package deal. I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want this life.”

“And now that I've decided to give it all up?”

“Stop speaking foolishly. Have your foundation, live there if you want, but that doesn't mean you have to give up your wealth. That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.”

“Are you even in love with me, Chloe? I'm being serious.”

“Would I have worked this hard for five years if I didn't love you? We deserve this life.”

Quentin sighed. “Falling in love shouldn't be hard work. It should be effortless.”

Chloe clutched the single strand of pearls around her neck. “What are you trying to say to me, Quentin?”

“I talked to God about us. Asked Him for guidance.”

“Really? What did He say?”

“He didn't say anything. But my questions . . . well, they confirmed what I've been feeling for a long time now.”

“Quentin . . .”

“I can't see a future with you, Chloe. I'm sorry. Now you're free to find someone who can make you happy.”

Chloe jumped up from her seat, reached across the table, and slapped Quentin in the face with all her might. Quentin smarted from the pain and clenched his jaw in anger.

“That's it? I'm sorry? That's all you have to say?” Chloe yelled. “I spent the last five years of my life being nice to those little brats of yours and kissing your mother's bougie behind, and all you can say is ‘sorry'?”

Quentin stood to his feet so that he was staring down at Chloe. “This doesn't have to get ugly. Let's end it on a high note.”

“You will be screaming all kinds of high notes when I get through with you.”

“Are you threatening me, Chloe?”

“I'm promising you that this is not over. You owe me, Quentin.”

He laughed. “What? Do you want a check? You want me to give you a condo like that dead white man you sent to an early grave?”

Chloe scoffed. “I thought you didn't want this to get ugly.”

“Don't make a scene, Chloe. I've arranged for a car service to come and take you home. Good-bye, Chloe.”

“See you soon.”

Chloe's farewell was a promise and a threat. She watched Quentin stride out of their favorite restaurant. A restaurant she couldn't afford to dine in without Quentin paying the bill. She kicked herself for having been so complacent for so long.

Chloe swore that it wasn't over with Quentin. She'd be back in her rightful place as soon as she did what she should've done from the first time she laid eyes on Montana. Get that scheming man stealer out of her man's house.