Lost in Love (22 page)

When she held Quinn’s hand, it was a completely different experience. She felt it up and down her spine, and she wanted to feel it everywhere in between.

But she wasn’t going to think about Quinn, because then she’d just start crying again, and she’d done enough crying for one lifetime. She was going to see how the results came back for the biopsy and then decide what to do from there.

As if reading her mind, Jackson squeezed her hand. “Everything’s going to be fine, Meredith.”

He sounded so certain she almost believed it herself. She smiled faintly.

“Want to get an ice cream cone?” he asked when their cab pulled in front of the office building.

“In this cold?”

He shrugged. “Better than going back in there, isn’t it?”

She really looked at him for the first time all day. She’d been so focused on herself that she hadn’t noticed the shadows ringing his eyes. “What’s going on with you?”

He shook his head and pulled her toward the elevators. “I said I wanted ice cream. If I wanted to gossip, I’d have suggested cosmopolitans, or some other pink frou-frou drink.”

She dragged her feet, pulling on his arm to slow him down. “Something’s wrong, and I’ve been too self-absorbed to notice. But I’m noticing now, so why don’t you tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” he said with unaccustomed grimness.

“Is it Portia?” She shook her head. “What am I saying? Of course it is.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Meredith.”

“What happened? Portia was so happy.” She dug her heels in so he had to stop. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to go to her?”

Just then the elevator opened and inside was Quinn. Of course.

Meredith cringed as she realized how it must look—holding Jackson’s hand and standing so close to him.

Jackson let her go like she had cooties and jumped back. He pushed her into the elevator and said, “Quinn, it’s all her fault. Meredith, tell the man what’s going on so he doesn’t poison my coffee.”

“I prefer a more hands-on method,” Quinn said with deceptive calm.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Jackson reached in and pressed the elevator close button and then got out of the way of the closing doors.

Quinn faced her. “Want to tell me what that was about?”

Something about the way he questioned her made her want to hit him. The anger welled up and she couldn’t help herself—she pushed his shoulder.

He raised one eyebrow. “Is that the best you have?”

She pushed him again, feeling all the emotions from the past couple weeks swelling and overwhelming her. “I’m so angry!”

“So am I, babe.” He grabbed her arms. “I never want to see you holding another man’s hand again.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll hold whoever’s hand I choose to hold, and you have no idea what was going on.”

“Because you won’t tell me,” he said, his voice raised. “You’ve been pushing me away the past couple weeks when all I want is you. Can you imagine how that feels?”

“I have cancer,” she yelled back at him.

The silence in the elevator was deafening.

This was the part where he told her it was nice knowing her, that he hoped she got better. The part where she’d watch him find a healthier woman who’d be able to share his life forever.

But he didn’t say anything.

She chanced a look at him.

He looked furious. The muscle in his jaw pulsed like he was holding back a scathing tirade.

Finally he said, “How long have you known?”

“The first bout was almost a year ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“There wasn’t reason to.” She saw a flash of hurt in his eyes and immediately regretted saying it. “We’re just having a fling.”

“No, we’re not.” He let go of her.

The sense of loss was immediate and complete.

“I told you I want to marry you, Meredith. I love you.”

She shook her head. “You can’t want to marry someone who has cancer.”

“I want
you
,” he repeated. “I’ll take you however you come. That’s unconditional love.”

“I can’t saddle you with that sort of life.”

“How bad is it?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I’ve been in remission, but I found another lump. They did a biopsy today.”

“So you don’t know that it’s cancerous.”

She glared at him. “Life doesn’t work that way.”

“What do you know about how life works? You’re running away from it.”

She felt his words like a slap. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Do you love me?”

Her soul cried out
Yes!
emphatically and with abandon. But she bit her lip to keep from saying anything.

“You do,” he said after a moment of observation.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you. Because I can see everything you feel. It’s written so clearly on your face.” He took her hand, his voice softening. “You don’t get to pick and choose, Meredith. Both good and bad things happen, and I want to experience them all with you.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Cancer is awful.”

“It must be more awful alone.”

It really was. But she loved him too much to drag him down. “I don’t want this, Quinn.”

He stepped away from her, silently watching her. The elevator stopped and the doors opened, but he didn’t move.

She had to, though. She lowered her head and walked out.

“Meredith, if you’re going to live your life in fear,” he called out after her, “there’s no point in living.”

Very true. But it was a moot point, because she wasn’t sure how long she’d live anyway.

Chapter Thirty-one

“We’re doing the water deal,” Nelson said over a crackly connection.

Jack perked up, sitting up on the couch in his suite. “Excellent.”

“Without you,” the man added grimly.

“
What
?”

“You haven’t been available, and we need to move on this. Sorry, Waite.”

“You don’t sound sorry,” Jack said to the dial tone.

Damn it
. He threw the phone down and leaned back. It was only one deal, and Jack didn’t need the money, but it stuck in his craw.

What was he doing?

The answer was clear and immediate: nothing he wanted to be. He was stuck in his father’s business when Jack wanted to make a mark on the world in his own way.

More importantly, he wanted Portia, and that wasn’t going to happen until he corrected a few things.

The phone began to ring again. Thinking it might be Nelson again, he picked up the cell phone and glanced at the screen. Laura Waite. He rushed to answer before it went to voicemail. “Hello, Mother.”

“Oh dear. Am I in trouble?”

“No, but Dad is.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” She sighed as though put-upon. “Do I need to talk to him?”

“No, but I do. When are you back to London?”

“We returned last night.”

“Are you at the hotel?” he asked, hopping off the couch.

“Yes.”

“Stay there. I’m on my way.”

He developed a plan of attack on the way to the Ritz. By the time he reached his parents’ suite, he knew what he was going to say.

Mostly.

His mother answered the door. “That was fast.”

He walked into their suite and looked around. On the coffee table in the living room there was a tea service. “Dad’s not here?”

“Hello to you, too, sweetheart.” She lifted her cheek pointedly.

He bent and kissed it like a dutiful son. Because they were being proper, he said, “Hello, Mother. I trust your week has been better than mine.”

“It’s been lovely, thank you.” She angled her head to the side. “Sit down, darling. You’re looming. Would you like tea?”

He pulled out a chair and took his hat off. “What I’d like is to speak to Dad.”

“He’s in the steam room.” She poured him a cup of tea anyway. “I sent him there to relax.”

“You think it’ll work?”

“I can hope.” She studied at him as she buttered a piece of scone. “Maybe you should join him. You look tighter than you sounded on the phone. Is it work?”

He ran a hand over his head. “It’s everything.”

His mother’s eyes widened. “Not your new girlfriend?”

“I’m not sure that title applies any longer.” He gritted his teeth against the pain in his chest at how he’d failed her.

“You really like her.”

“I love her, Mama.”

Laura gazed at him owlishly. “Those aren’t words that trip off your tongue every day. Maybe you should win her back.”

“That’s the plan.” He stood and dropped a kiss on her temple. He walked out of the room and went in search of his interfering old man.

On the way to the bank of elevators, he ran into Quinn. He slowed down, watching the man warily. After the other day when Quinn saw him with Meredith, Jack wouldn’t have been surprised if his VP decked him.

As though Quinn could read his thoughts, he put his hands in his pockets. Actually, Quinn probably
could
read his thoughts.

“What are you doing here?” he asked carefully.

“I asked Delia where you were,” Quinn said. “I need to talk to you.”

Jack shook his head. “You need to talk to Meredith.”

“She’s pushing me away.”

Jack looked at the man as he stepped into the elevator. Quinn usually looked unflappable. Today he looked a little frayed around the edges. Feeling sorry for him, he held open the elevator door. “Get in here.”

Quinn entered. “For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do. I want to force her to marry me, but I can’t do that.”

“Welcome to the club.” He clapped Quinn on the shoulder.

The other man raised his brow. “That’s not helpful.”

“Do you know about Meredith?”

“The cancer?” Quinn nodded solemnly.

“And you still want to be with her?”

“Of course.” Quinn frowned as though anything else didn’t compute. “She’s mine.”

Jackson smiled. “Then make her see that.”

“I don’t know how,” the man mumbled.

“You’ll figure it out.” The elevator dinged open and he stepped out. “You might as well come with me.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find my dad. There are things that need to be said, once and for all.” He went down the hall to the men’s locker room area and pushed open the door.

Quinn followed. “I’m not sure I want to hear things that need to be said while you’re naked.”

“I don’t plan on being naked.” He nodded at the attendant, and before the guy could say anything he walked straight to the door marked
Steam Room
.

He opened the door, pausing in the threshold until his eyes adjusted to the darkness and misty shadows. He saw his father sitting on the highest platform, like a lion king over his dominion, a towel wrapped around his waist.

He went straight over. “What did you do with the tiara, Dad?”

“You’re a little overdressed for in here, aren’t you, boy?”

“Not as overdressed as Quinn.”

Quinn unbuttoned his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m happy to strip down.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s sexual harassment.” Jack returned his attention to his father. “The tiara.”

The old man pointed a defensive finger at him. “The tiara was worth too much to give to some woman for a little bit of work.”

“I promised it to her, and she’s not some woman. She’s the one I love.”

“No, you don’t,” Hiram said, stubbornly shaking his head. “You love Meredith.”

“No,” Quinn said in his calm way. “I love Meredith.”

Hiram looked between the two of them. “What the hell happened here in London? I shouldn’t have sent y’all unattended.”

Jack shook his head. “I’m done with your meddling, Dad. I quit.”

His dad puffed up. “You can’t quit.”

“Watch me.” He faced Quinn. “You’re in charge now.”

“I always have been.”

“Yeah, but now it’s official. Send me papers to sign.”

Hiram stood, grabbing his towel and securing it before it flashed everyone. “This is bullpuckey, boy. You can’t quit your birthright.”

“Dad, this company is your dream, and I’m not doing it justice.” Then he softened. “My heart isn’t in it. I love to invest, not build hotels. I’ve tried to do a good job for you and grow it for you, but it’s your dream. I can’t do it anymore. I need to work on my own dreams and goals. It’s not doing anyone good, and I’m done with your meddling.”

“I don’t meddle,” his dad protested.

Quinn shook his head. “Hiram, not even I’m going to buy that.”

His dad whirled on Jack and pointed a finger. “This is about that girl.”

“
That girl
is going to be your daughter-in-law if I have anything to say about it, so you better watch what you say about her.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” his dad bellowed.

“No. It’s my life.” Jack took a deep breath to calm down. “Dad, remember how you told me the first time you saw Mama, the world stopped? That all you wanted was the pleasure of watching her beautiful face grow old and wrinkly?”

Quinn raised his brows. “You said that?”

Hiram flushed, and it wasn’t from the heat. “Yes.”

“You need to work on your lines, Hiram,” Quinn said. “No woman wants to be reminded that she’s going to be wrinkly.”

“You’re digressing here,” Jack pointed out.

They stared at him.

“I’m saying I feel that way about Portia,” he clarified.

His dad frowned. “Oh.”

“Not that I know if she’ll ever forgive me. That tiara was part of her dream, and I’d promised it to her, and now it’s gone. How do you make up for that? I let her down.”

“You
do
love her,” his dad said, looking distressed.

Jack threw his arms in the air. “What have I been saying?”

“We’ll do something then, boy.”

“No,
we
won’t do anything. But I will.” He’d already put it in motion, but it was time to step up the timetable.

His plan would work. He assured himself of it, because he really had no other recourse.

Chapter Thirty-two

Quinn’s words haunted her.

At work, in the shower—everywhere. But especially when she was lying in bed.