Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Three (8 page)

“Fools, every one of them.”

“I concur.”

They laughed and hugged, and Quinn felt immeasurably better at having begun to mend the rift between them.

“So, since I’m noisy and tactless and pushy, I’ll ask the obvious question,” Verna said a minute later. “Where are you and Alexander?”

“Approximately nowhere.”

She told Verna about the documents and the car ride—sans the gory details—and waited as Verna considered the information.

“I gotta say, Q, and you know I’m always on your side, but dude sounds pretty righteous.”

Quinn groaned. “Righteous? You’re such a dork, but do continue.”

“I mean, wife aside, he’s done everything right as far as I can tell. And not to beat a dead horse… No, I’m going to beat a dead horse, he has
far, far, far—
”

“I get it, Verna.”

“More reasons to be upset with you. Well, just one really, but you get my drift. He could have made your life an absolute living hell, Q. Instead, he semipermanently installed himself half a world away from his home in the thriving metropolis of Thornehill Springs, North Carolina, which I’m certain has everything a guy like him could ever want, just to avoid disrupting you and Ethan’s lives. Oh, and he’s hot; let’s not forget that.”

“You’re ridiculous, Verna.”

“Undoubtedly, but even I can see that maybe, possibly, you’re being a spoiled brat.”

Quinn’s eyes bulged at Verna’s words, but she waved at Quinn dismissively.

“Don’t look so surprised and hurt. Ms. Lily would never say this to you, but I can because, as you said, that’s what friends are for, right? You’re accustomed, shall we say, to having things your way, and you can get a little touchy when they aren’t. You can acknowledge that?” she asked with a lifted brow.

Quinn didn’t find anything wrong with having a preference for a certain structure in her life, but she grudgingly nodded nonetheless.

“So, with that said, has it ever occurred to you that you’re blowing this out of proportion?”

“V, he was
married
!”

“I feel you, and he’s wrong for that, but it’s not like he’s a fucking family man who had you on the side. From what I know, he wasn’t actively engaged in a relationship with the woman; he just hadn’t taken care of his business. Stupid, yes; punishable by death, no. I know you don’t like other people playing with your toys, but don’t let your spoiled self miss out on this good thing. You guys could build a life, so don’t let bullshit stop you. As the good book says—”

“Jeez! Fine! But please, no more Bible quotes.”

Verna started to speak, but Ethan’s sharp wail cut the air.

“Saved by the bell. At least my baby is still on my side,” Quinn said as Verna laughed.

••••

The next morning, Quinn settled on her couch with her coffee, thinking about the previous evening. In the end, they’d all stayed over for a great dinner. After fraught negotiation with Vera, Joe had stepped in and grilled perfect steak, while Verna had whipped up the sides and dessert. Joe and Verna’s banter and her stories from high school had made everyone laugh, and the evening was as fun and relaxed a dinner as she’d had in a long time.

And her mother’s words stuck with her. She was right, though Quinn wouldn’t ever say so out loud. The plain truth was that she and Alexander both had accounting to do, but that didn’t change the fact that she loved him. It was all horribly clichéd, but undeniable nonetheless. She wanted him, wanted them to be together, to be a family, so she had to swallow her pride and pray that he wanted the same. She thought he did, knew Alexander wasn’t one for games.

Except for that whole
married
thing.

Argh
.

She had to get that out of her head.

A flash of gold caught the corner of her eye, and she reached out to pluck the piece of paper off the coffee table. It was the same ivory and gold as that sign Alexander had held all those months, Ethan’s lifetime, ago. She traced a finger across the raised lettering.
Pierre Montague
and a phone number.

Please call anytime
, the note said.

He must have left it the day of the…incident. An idea, a crazy idea, started to form, and before she could stop herself, she grabbed the phone and dialed the number.

Chapter Ten

Alexander stood on the balcony letting the bitter-cold wind batter him. The stinging breeze whipped at his skin, but he paid it no mind, welcomed it in fact. Even the lash of wind was preferable to the numbness that had pervaded him since he’d come home.

Home
.

He scoffed at the thought. This place was no home to him. Nowhere could be home without Quinn and Ethan; he could admit that now.

It amazed him how quickly it had happened. Seemingly overnight, they’d woven their way into his heart, into the very fabric of his being, and he felt their absence as acutely as he would a lost limb. He tried to pretend everything was fine, go on in spite of it all, but that was mostly in vain. Every moment, something reminded him of them, and he found himself fighting to push out the memories that came unbidden, little sparks of happiness surrounded by intense grief.

He shivered, whether from the cold or his train of thought, he didn’t know, but he headed inside, trying to console himself. At the very least, he’d see Ethan again next week when he returned to the States.

And he’d see Quinn.

As much as it pained him, even seeing her, angry and closed-off as she might be, would be preferable to not seeing her at all.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts, and he instantly turned suspicious. No one should be able to enter the building without a key or the concierge’s admittance, so this was a most unusual occurrence. He’d hoped to hell it wasn’t his mother or father. His mother had tried to pretend that nothing had changed, but his father had tried, in his own strained way, to console him. But he couldn’t deal with them now.

He looked through the peephole, and the sight that greeted him was like a kick in the gut. He leaned against the door, the breath momentarily knocked out of his lungs. It was official. The pain of losing them had pushed him over the edge. What other explanation could there be for him seeing mirages in his hallway?

The knock sounded again, but Alexander couldn’t look.

“Open the door!”

The mirage was insistent and sounded remarkably like Quinn, and he figured it wouldn’t leave until he complied. And so he did.

The mirage was real.

There stood Quinn, dressed in a proper coat for once and laden down with more bags than should be possible for her to carry, holding Ethan, who dozed in her arms, his frog hat slipping off his head.

He gawked stupidly, unable to form words, but Quinn just smiled and held her arms out, gesturing that he should take Ethan.

“Help me out, Alexander. I have
a lot
of stuff.”

Automatically, he reached out and took Ethan, happier than he could fathom to hold his son again. He gingerly held the baby against his chest and kissed his forehead, careful not to wake him, and leaned out of the way as Quinn passed through the threshold and into his home.

“Whew, it’s great to be here,” she said as she deposited her bags on the foyer floor and removed her coat.

“The munchkin is wiped out, but he does need a new diaper. Can you take care of that while I set up his travel crib? You remember the routine, right?”

He nodded.

“Good.”

Quinn closed the front door, which he’d entirely forgotten was open, and scurried about like she owned the place, setting up a makeshift nursery in the dining room.

“I don’t know what it is with me and dining rooms. Somehow, baby stuff always ends up there.”

Alexander couldn’t help it; he laughed, the vibration rolling through him and spurring him into action. He grabbed the diaper bag, and they worked in efficient silence, falling back into the old routine with ease, and within a half hour, Ethan was cleaned up and tucked in and they sat on his couch facing each other.

After a few moments, she said, “Can I go first?”

He nodded, and she continued. “Sorry for barging in on you like this, but I felt dramatic action was necessary. I needed to talk to you, and it couldn’t be done over the phone.”

“So you flew halfway around the world with a baby?”

“Yeah, and thanks to your dad, it was a piece of cake. A private jet is definitely the best way to travel.”

“What does my father have to do with this?” he asked gruffly.

“Please don’t be upset with him. I called and asked for his assistance, and he had a lawyer help with Ethan’s paperwork and sent the plane for us. He loves you, you know.”

Maybe one day Alexander could think about trying to fix things, but at the moment he had more pressing concerns.

“So what’s so important?”

He was suddenly defensive, wary of getting back on this roller coaster of emotions, though it wasn’t like he’d ever really gotten off. But still, this was a lot.

“I want to try this, try us. For real this time, no secrets, no lies. How do you feel?” Quinn said, her voice low, tentative.

••••

Quinn waited for his response, feeling as if she were on tenterhooks, knowing that this moment would determine the outcome of the rest of her life. He paused, looked at her, assessing much like he had that first day, and then said, “Relieved. Surprised. Angry.”

“Please, don’t hold back,” she said when he paused.

He looked her in the eye, and she saw in his gaze the swirling emotion, saw his understandable reluctance to say more.

“Please, Alexander. I need to hear it, and I think you need to say it.”

“Fine. I am—was—so angry with you. I forgave you, Quinn. You kept him from me, made me miss the first chapter of his life. And I forgave you, looked past the rage and the pain and saw that you were doing what you thought best, misguided though you were. I made a mistake, too, but you didn’t do the same for me. You just cut me out, pushed me away, refused to fight for me, for
us
.”

His words were calm, measured, but his eyes, flickering and flashing like flames, revealed his turmoil.

“But even more, I’m angry at myself. I ruined us.” He looked at Quinn, eyes imploring. “Let me explain—”

“Alexander, there’s no need to.”

It didn’t matter. It was past, she saw that now, and she wanted to focus on their future.

“No, there is a need. I owe it to you, to myself,” he said.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“I told you how I was a studious boy? Playing with Legos.” She nodded. “So that didn’t leave a lot of time for girls.”

She smiled. “I find that hard to believe.”

He chuckled. “Sure, I had girlfriends, but nothing serious. And then in my last year at university, I met Magda. You’ve seen her.”

Quinn didn’t even try to stop her eye roll, and Alexander laughed.

“I have indeed,” she said with a sigh.

“Well, beyond her beauty, she’s quite savvy, and she painted a wonderful picture of what we could build together, how the two of us as one would be unstoppable.”

Quinn felt sick to her stomach. Even now, that vision sounded mighty compelling, Magda and Alexander with their good looks and poise a far more logical pairing than she and Alexander could ever be. She didn’t know how much more of this she cared to hear.

“Really, Alexander, it’s—”

“But it was all a lie.”

Quinn quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”

“The compelling vision was a fraud. You see, she’s from an old, established family that’s as poor as it is prominent. The Montagues, especially back then, had money to burn. You can figure out the rest.”

“So it was a marriage of convenience?”

“Yeah, but no one told me about it.”

“What?”

“Yes, it seemed my blushing bride and conniving parents hatched a little scheme, and fool that I was, I didn’t see it until it was too late.”

“Oh, Alexander. She broke your heart.”

He laughed a mirthless chuckle.

“No. My interest in Magda was always centered a bit below my heart, and the more I got to know her, the more I lost interest, even there. She had different concerns, parties, the social scene, and I was all about my work. Without meddling, we likely never would have been in the same room. But to Magda’s credit, she’s no quitter.”

“Alexander, I could do without the hosannas to your wife,” Quinn said sharply.

“Ex-wife, and I wouldn’t exactly call that a compliment. The years have given me some perspective, and I can imagine that she didn’t necessarily enjoy being stuck with me either. But she held on for about a year, tried to keep her the charade. Then one day, about a year into the ‘marriage,’ I was at wit’s end and we were barely speaking to each other. At that point, she just exploded, said she hadn’t signed up for a ‘real’ marriage and that we needed to lay down some ground rules. I was stunned, made her sit down and tell me everything.”