I’d broken down and cried in their living room, fearing I’d let them down. Fearing I’d let myself down.
Knowing I’d betrayed my love for Quinn.
“What made her decide not to go through with it? The abortion?”
“I talked her out of it. Because of your dad.”
“My dad?”
I nodded. “He came over that day to invite Mom and Dad for dinner. He’d walked into the house, saw three pale faces streaked with tears and sat down at my side.”
“Did you get a lecture?”
“No.”
Quinn would think that because Bradley had given her countless lectures. She was his daughter. But she didn’t see how he was with other people. She didn’t see his patience or his kindness. Or maybe she did, but they’d been overshadowed. She expected the worst.
“Really?” She arched an eyebrow.
“Really. He just sat down and put his hand on my shoulder. Didn’t say a word. He sat there and listened as my parents and I talked it through. The abortion . . . it made me sick. I screwed up and yeah, having a kid that young wouldn’t be easy. But I just felt in my heart that it would be okay. That was my kid. Mine. There was love there, or the beginning of love. My parents offered to help. So did your dad. That was the first thing he said. ‘We love babysitting.’”
Quinn’s eyes widened. “My dad?”
“He’s changed too.” Losing his daughter had opened Bradley’s eyes.
“Hmm.” Her eyebrows came together as she thought it over. “So, Dianne?”
“I asked her if she’d consider keeping the baby. I would have supported her either way, but I told her I would be there. That I wanted to be there. She’d failed all of her classes that semester and her parents refused to pay for another year, so her choices were to stay in Bozeman and get a job or move home to Billings. She moved home, decided against the abortion and kept me up on the pregnancy. I visited a couple of times. And then in September, Colin was born.”
“Nan told me. She called me.”
When I’d held Colin in my arms, the first person I’d wanted to call had been Quinn. He’d been so perfect and tiny. I’d been scared shitless, but I loved him. Instantly. And for a split-second, I’d wanted to share the miracle with Quinn.
That feeling hadn’t lasted long once reality came crashing down. I’d held Colin, looked at Dianne, and known that day he wouldn’t have a mother.
“Dianne didn’t want to hold him. She wasn’t happy or excited. She was terrified. Five hours after he was born, she begged me to take him. She told me that she’d made a mistake. She wasn’t ready to be a mother.”
“So you brought him home.”
“Yeah. He slept the whole drive home, then screamed for two months straight.” I chuckled. “My parents saved my ass. Yours too. I moved in here and knew school wasn’t going to happen. So I got a job and did my best to survive. Dianne signed over all her rights and I haven’t heard from her since.”
There was no blame in my heart toward her, only gratitude. She’d given me a gift. Colin was the best thing in my life and for that I’d be eternally thankful.
“Do you think she’ll ever come back?” she asked.
“Maybe. I don’t know. But I won’t close that door to her if she does. If she wants to know Colin, I’m not going to get in her way.” There’d be rules and I’d set the tone for those visits, but I wouldn’t forbid them.
“Does he know about her?”
“Some, but he doesn’t ask often and usually we avoid the topic completely. I’m honest if he has questions.”
A car drove past, the neighbor across the street waving. The kids were yelling as they played in the Montgomery yard.
“I’m going to take this to your mom.” Quinn stood and picked up the ketchup.
“I’ll be over in a minute.”
She took one step before stopping. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, the same corner I’d kissed earlier, and I fought the urge to stand and capture that mouth again. Her smile broadened, though there was pain in her eyes. “Colin is a cool kid. You’re a good dad, Graham. I always knew you would be.”
She might as well have stabbed me in the chest.
“Thanks,” I said, watching as she walked away.
Fuck me.
When had I never loved that woman?
Maybe that kiss had woken me up. Maybe it had made me realize how goddamn lonely I’d been without her. I had Colin, but there was a corner of my heart that would always belong to Quinn.
I should have followed her nine years ago.
Because now it was too late.
Chapter Nine
Quinn
“Hey, Brookie—Brooklyn.” Whoops. My finger wave was met with a scowl as she closed the front door.
“Where’s Mom?” She scanned the living room as she bounced baby Bradley on her hip.
“She had to run to the church with Dad. They’re meeting with the caterer for tomorrow.”
She blinked. “And she left you with the kids?”
“I’m capable of keeping three kids alive for a couple hours.” I glanced at Colin, Evan and Maya playing on the floor, perfectly happy and safe under my watch.
Though I doubted Mom would have left me here with the kids if the baby would have been among today’s wards. Brooklyn had Fridays off and didn’t need a babysitter today.
“Would you like to sit?” I waved to the free space on the couch beside me.
Brooklyn harrumphed but sat.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Fine.”
She hadn’t been over last night for burgers. Her husband, Pete, had picked up Bradley and gone home for dinner. Since I’d arrived, Pete had given me a dozen pleasant smiles, but we hadn’t braved much conversation. He seemed wary, as if Brooklyn would label him a traitor if he spoke to me.
“Pete seems nice.”
She narrowed her eyes and set the baby on the carpet at her feet. He cooed and gnawed on a set of red, blue and yellow plastic keys. “Don’t, Quinn.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t pretend you care.”
“I’ve always cared.”
She scoffed. “You sure have a way of showing it.”
Brooklyn was the second runner-up to Dad’s silent treatment. The day I’d left, she’d basically stopped speaking to me. She’d been fifteen and busy as the popular girl in high school who’d played fall, winter and spring sports.
When I’d text and hardly get a short reply, I’d assumed it was because she was busy. She had her life happening and her older sister wasn’t around to pester her about how long she spent in the bathroom doing her hair and makeup.
Brooklyn and I had never been close. As teenage sisters, we hadn’t fought much; we just didn’t have anything in common. Where I’d tag along after Walker and Graham, Brooklyn was content doing her own thing with her own friends.
As the years passed and I texted with her less and less often, I’d chalked it up to sisters who’d drifted apart. She and Pete had gotten engaged after college. She hadn’t asked me to be her maid of honor, something that had bothered me more than I’d admitted.