Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Three (4 page)

“Oh, you’re teaching him French. How wonderful!” she said.

“It seems only proper.”

“Do you think he understands?”

“I’m not sure. His expression doesn’t really change, but he seems to follow along I suppose. Do you think he understands English?”

“Ha! Excellent point. I have no idea. But we still talk to him anyway, so it can’t hurt.”

“And he’ll know the language when he comes to visit me.” He hadn’t intended to broach this topic, but Lily might be a good barometer of where Quinn’s head was at since she’d been so infuriatingly opaque.

“Yeah. Quinn will have a stroke, but she’ll just have to get over it, won’t she?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, young man,” Lily said, steel in her words. “You two—excuse my language—fucked up but good, didn’t you? From where I sit, you are two are the dumbest smart people I know.”

“But, Lily, I never—”

“Aah, I don’t want to know, don’t want to hear anything from either of you. That’s your personal business, and I want no part of it. But let me say this, and I’m telling her the same thing: I don’t care ’bout neither of y’all’s feelings, and I don’t care what happened between you. That baby is the only thing that matters, and if he gets hurts in your mess, you gonna have to deal with me. So I suggest you work it out. Is that clear?”

She leveled her gaze at him, unwavering, honest, and with the ferocity of her love for Ethan showing through.

“Crystal.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, seemingly accepting his answer.

“I swear, you young people make stuff too hard. I met my husband at a dance when he was stationed down in Georgia. We liked each other, got married, and raised our little family. Easy peasy. No drama. Something you might want to try,” she said with an incredulous expression on her face.

Alexander couldn’t help but laugh, and Lily joined him. He knew Lily would always be on Quinn’s side to some extent, but so far, she’d been evenhanded, fair, and given how much Quinn respected her mother, he could only hope Lily’s attitude toward him would rub off.

He stayed for several hours, until it was clear Ethan was running on fumes. As Alexander took him to the nursery, he heard Lily, presumably on the telephone, say, “You can stop hiding at Verna’s now. He’s about to go. Good-bye, Quinn Elizabeth.”

He jogged back down the stairs but before he could leave, Lily, catching him off guard, enfolded him in a hug. “Bye, Alexander.”

••••

“So the coast is clear?” Verna said.

Quinn sighed. “Apparently.”

Verna didn’t say anything else, just nodded and watched Quinn, her gaze like a laser.

“Stop staring at me,” Quinn said, her voice a shrill, high-pitched whine.

“I’m sorry, but are you okay, Q?” Verna said, her voice more subdued and somber than it had been in a very long time, the pity Quinn heard there grating over her frayed nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Quinn sighed and leaned back on the couch. “I will be, hopefully sometime soon.”

“Well, we’ve been here all day, and as much as I love spending time with you, it’s obviously bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, no.” Then suspicion crept into Quinn’s mind, only enhancing the anger that roiled through her like lava, right beneath the surface, waiting for an escape vent. She looked over at Verna, whose gaze flitted away guiltily. “Wait. How did you know something happened? I haven’t talked to you for at least a week.”

“Uh, uh…”

“Don’t start stuttering now, Verna,” Quinn said, uncaring of her harsh tone.

“Well, you asked to come over, which is always welcome, but a bit surprising, especially without the munchkin. Then Ms. Lily called, said you might need a friendly ear after the trouble with Alexander. And she only told me the very basics, that there had been a scene at your house and that Alexander has…a personal issue.”

“Hmm. So not only is my…whatever he is married, now my mother and best friend are conspiring behind my back. Or was it just idle gossip?” she asked, faintly aware that she was acting pretty unhinged but unable to control herself.

“Quinn, you know it’s not—”

“I don’t know anything”—Quinn was yelling now, perversely satisfied at Verna’s wounded expression as she tossed out the words—“except that people who claim to care about me sure do seem to have a hard time telling me the truth.”

“Q, it’s not like that! I just want to be here if you need—”

“I don’t need your pity, Verna. In fact, why don’t you take all your concern and focus on figuring out why you’re a thirty-year-old waitress who lives in her parents’ basement,” she hissed as she gestured around the room that Verna was so proud of, stinging venom oozing from her words.

“I-I’m not thirty yet,” Verna said quietly, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

The pain in her voice registered, but didn’t pierce the cloud of anger that spewed out of her, blocking everything else.

“You should stay out of other people’s business, Verna.”

Quinn stomped up the stairs and out to her car without speaking to anyone, tears clouding her vision as she drove off.

Chapter Five

Morning dawned bright, and with it, the harsh reality of what Quinn’s life had become. No Alexander, no Verna—just her and Ethan.

Another great move, Quinn. You are such a winner.

She still couldn’t believe the ugly hatefulness she’d unleashed yesterday, and at Verna no less. Despite the couple of years that had separated them in school—it being a big deal to hang out with someone younger back then—she and Verna had always shared a special bond. And Verna, despite her tough, funny exterior, carried a lot of pain and insecurity inside. Pain and insecurity that she kept on a tight leash and didn’t expose to anyone. Except, of course, her best friend, who’d betrayed her trust and used her confidences against her and in the most hateful of ways. Quinn blinked, regret making her flush. She’d known she was in no frame of mind for company, but she hadn’t wanted to be alone. And staying at home while Alexander was there had been out of the question. So what else had there been to do but shit all over her best friend?

Quinn sighed. Her selfishness and callous disregard were enough to make her cry all over again, but Ethan couldn’t be ignored while she wallowed in self-pity, though she needed to do one thing this morning before anything else.

I’m sorry.

She sent the text message to Verna and then went on with her day. Around midafternoon Verna’s response—
I need a minute. Maybe several
—popped up. It wasn’t the immediate forgiveness and reconciliation that she wanted, not that she deserved it, but at least Verna wasn’t ignoring her. That was something she could hold on to.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, mainly just her and Ethan hanging out and running errands, getting back into their pre-Alexander routine, and her trying not to think about him or Verna. After she put Ethan down, happy because he’d been sleeping through the night again, she showered and lotioned her skin until it glowed. As she air-dried, she stood in front of her lingerie drawer, considering what to wear to bed. Her hand had automatically reached for the comfy sweats she favored, but she’d stilled it to give the matter further thought. She finally decided on a turquoise-blue silk nightie, one of her favorites. She felt terrible about Alexander and especially about the vile things she’d said to Verna. But if she felt awful on the inside, at the very least she could look her best on the outside. Look better, feel better. She’d heard that saying somewhere and for a long time had believed it nonsense. But given her current state, she wasn’t above giving anything short of animal sacrifice a try.

No one would be seeing her, so she hadn’t gone provocative, but she loved the little outfit nonetheless. The rich blue perfectly complemented her skin, made the brown glow almost ethereally. The spaghetti straps flowed to an open V that framed her cleavage, and the fabric gathered beneath her breasts and flowed down, over the dip of her waist, pulling a bit at her hips and ass before falling to midthigh. It hinted at what lay underneath and made her feel sexy. Not that she should, but she had to start somewhere, she supposed.

She settled in bed, feeling restless and at loose ends. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she’d gotten accustomed to having Alexander here, and now that he wasn’t, the quiet of the house and the noise in her mind closed in on her. She absently flipped through the channels, stopping at a dumb sitcom for a few minutes before she moved to a murder mystery. When she changed the channel again and landed on a soapy romance show, the couple on screen in the throes of a heated argument that turned into an equally heated kiss, she gave up and turned the TV off. She lay in the quiet for a moment before she decided a book might be a better choice. She read for a few minutes, but still her mind drifted and she was restless. Maybe she’d clean out her closet.

As she considered the new project she’d conjured up, the phone rang. She smiled, surprised and happy to hear it ringing, and she quickly answered before it woke Ethan, praying it was Verna.

She injected an upbeat lilt into her voice and then said peppily, “Hey, V. You just get—”

“Quinn. It’s me.”

He didn’t need to say anything else. The sound of his voice made thoughts of Verna recede and brought back all the memories she’d been trying to avoid, the pain that he’d caused, but more, those happy, happy weeks when they were pretending to be a family. She couldn’t do this. It hurt too much. But she couldn’t just hang up. He was a part of Ethan’s life now, no matter how much it pained her, and besides, hanging up was just plain rude. She was many things, including an accidental mistress and a horrible best friend, but she wasn’t rude.

“Yes. I know. What do you want?” she said, pleased that she managed to maintain at least some measure of calm in her voice.

“I’m outside. Let me in.”

“You can’t—”

Click
.

Apparently Alexander didn’t share her opinions on rudeness. The thought made her laugh. As she chuckled, she got out of bed, knowing that he wasn’t going anywhere until she let him in. Add to that the fact that she’d already given her neighbors more than enough to talk about. She had no doubt Mrs. Jackson, the sweet widow who lived three houses down and was one of the most gossip-hungry people she’d ever met, had seen Alexander’s car and was probably posting about it on every social media site she was on, which was all of them, at this very moment. Quinn didn’t have much choice other than to let him in. Good thing Joe wasn’t home tonight. She could only imagine that clusterfuck.

Fleetingly, she considered whether to change clothes, or rather, put clothes on, but decided against it. If ever there was
not
a time for false modesty, this was it. And the few words he’d said had sounded all business.

She opened the door and ushered him in, going through the motions like all was well. In reality, the air in her lungs had frozen and her heart pounded an irregular tattoo. He walked through the living room and settled on one of the couches, looking for all the world like this was just another day. Anger flooded her at the thought, and she was grateful for it. It gave her something to distract from the nervousness, and desire, that his presence sparked. It was all so unfair! She was on the verge of collapse, and he looked as vital as ever, navy-blue suit tailored to perfection, shirt crisp and blindingly white, shoes shiny like diamonds even in the low light of her home, his lack of a tie his only concession to the late hour and unusual circumstances. Speaking of which…

“Why are you here, Alexander?” she asked as she walked over and took the couch opposite him. He looked at her for a long moment and as he did, she regretted her decision not to change. Alexander’s gaze revealed nothing, not even a hint of attraction, but more importantly, him sitting across from her as he had what felt like a million times before, was too much. Those other times had been happy, free, sometimes heated, but never like this, so stilted and awkward. It hadn’t been this way the very first time they’d faced off, way back in that sad little conference room in Geneva. And now that she knew him, knew the fire that could light those eyes, knew the touch of those lips now set in a rigid line but capable of forming his endlessly engaging smile or eliciting shivers and moans as they grazed against her skin, knew those strong hands that held their son safe and secure but that could also bring her to her knees with pleasure, the cold, detached man that sat before her felt like a stranger. Not the man she had grown to… No, she couldn’t think it. Couldn’t even allow her mind to venture in that direction.

Still, clothing other than a silk negligee would have helped. Maybe if she were wrapped in the cocoon of corporate cotton, the emotions that threatened to shake her apart would be subdued; maybe she wouldn’t feel so vulnerable, exposed.

Or maybe she would. She’d known that Alexander Montage was more than she could handle, but she’d jumped in anyway. Now it was time to deal with the consequences. The seemingly never-ending stream of consequences.

“Please look at these,” he said, his businesslike voice matching his flat gaze in a way she found uncanny.

He slid three envelopes across the coffee table, and she picked up the first and removed the contents.