Until Next Time (25 page)

As Quinn continued to mingle, laugh, and share stories with these strangers, Piper realized that she didn’t know these people at all. She realized that, truly, their lives and their businesses were nothing like hers. And how after all these years, she was finally starting to see things she’d never seen. She wasn’t like people outside her profession and now she realized wasn’t even truly like the people
inside
her profession. She didn’t have any family. She didn’t have anyone she loved. She didn’t even have any hobbies, for crying out loud. She was, just like the card she’d picked for Imaginiff
,
a robot in everything she did. Systematic, unfeeling, and detached from not only her business, but from the rest of the world.

That awareness hung heavy and uncomfortable in her gut. She couldn’t shake the feeling of it. And why it suddenly bothered her, she had no idea. Through it all, though, Quinn stood firmly next to her, his presence a warm reminder of how much he’d changed her life in such a short amount of time.

“I think I’ve seen enough of the booths,” Piper bit out, not able to keep her displeasure out of her voice. “Can we go?”

Quinn gave her a concerned look, cradling his arm in that oh-so-comfortable spot around her back. His smile was slow, understanding. Her insides did a little jig. “This is your thing, Piper. If you want to go, we’ll go.”

She sighed heavily, knowing that running away wouldn’t help. But at the same time…she didn’t want Quinn to see how disjointed she was from the world, and everyone in it. She’d noticed the flicker in his gaze as his attention focused on her. He was keenly aware—whether he said it or not—that she was struggling. It was in the way he held her arm, stroked her back, and smiled at her gently. Sweet chocolate, he was better than perfect. He was proving to be her rock. She hadn’t asked for—

“Piper?”

Her thoughts skidded to a halt. “Yes?”

“Did you want to go?”

“No. No, I think I need a minute. Get some air.”

“All right.” There it was again. That easy, devastating smile.

Still holding her tight, Quinn lead her through the throng of people, out of the thick air of the booth area, making sure no one bothered her. He brushed off polite hellos and how-are-yous with grace, tucking her tighter into his side with each step.

He led her with confidence to the front lobby, depositing her on the plush red couch carefully. He kissed her cheek. “I’m going to take a stroll around the place while you get your bearings. Ten minutes enough?”

She touched his cheek, aching to be held in his arms. “Yes.”

He moved to go, but she stopped him with a defining kiss. “Thank you, Quinn.”

He drew back, touching her nose softly with the tip of his fingers, taking his warmth with him. It left a strange void she wasn’t comfortable with. As he walked away, Piper couldn’t fathom how she’d ended up in a sex-only relationship with a man who cared this much. Especially since she learned she’d never
really
cared about anything important in over a decade. She’d been fooling herself when it came to the only people she’d ever thought she’d actually gotten close to. What did that say about her?

She didn’t deserve him. And he certainly deserved more than she could ever give him.

A painful sting grew in Piper’s chest with each step Quinn made. With a whole-body shake, she tried to get the feeling to go away. It didn’t.

Yes, she was fooling herself. Fooling herself for thinking she could have Quinn and not connect with him. Fooling herself into thinking she could let a man like him into her life and not be changed by it. He’d shown her things, taught her things, and made a gaping hole in her heart that she suddenly needed filled. She closed her eyes when she realized what that empty spot was, and what she needed to admit to herself in order to fill it.

<<<<>>>>>

The rest of the afternoon was a total bust. Piper’s ten minutes of calming did nothing to actually
calm
her. It had only given her more time to think of the mess she’d made by getting involved with Quinn.

She couldn’t shake her ache. Her confusion. Her need for him. It was terrifying and it made her angry. Angry that she’d let herself be one of those fools who was so selfish.

All afternoon she’d listened to coworkers ramble on and on about their personal lives—courtesy of questions Quinn had asked. She’d discussed less business this first day than she’d ever remembered before.

They’d discussed home gardens with the Mayors, the importance of post-secondary education with Mr. Thompson and how he didn’t know if he could afford to send his five children. Baseball with the cremators, vacations with the answering service, art with a casket company, and—surely Quinn’s favorite—flight problems with the cargo company.

Cheese and crackers, her head was spinning with all the stuff she’d learned about these practical strangers.

Huh. Strangers.

Because that was what they were. With each booth, each introduction to people she’d seen over and over, she’d learned something new about them, their lives, their hopes, dreams, and what they wanted in the future. A knot had formed in her gut, and with each passing second it grew tighter and tighter.

With all the probing into their lives, they, of course, turned the tables on Quinn and Piper. Quinn had been all-too-willing to share the story of the foundation, his job, and his family. Piper had watched him in mild fascination as he seemed to open up willingly and happily to these people, just as they had done to him.

But when the attention had turned to Piper and she’d only been able to mumble about how busy her business kept her so she didn’t have time for a private life, Quinn would go into a story about how she’d helped his family when they’d needed it most. It was soothing to listen to him talk so sweetly about her, but at the same time, she felt guilty for not being able to share anything with these people. She didn’t have anything to share. She’d shut herself off from the world—from people—for practically the last decade.

And now with her gut churning and threatening to spill her lunch, Piper was ready to run out of the conference and never return. Without Quinn with her next year, she couldn’t face these people like she had today. They would know too much. They would want to know more. And, dear God, they might actually tell Piper things she didn’t really want to hear.

Just like today.

But today she couldn’t escape. Not with Quinn’s warmth beside her. Not with him leading her here and there to mingle. She both loved and hated it. A strange combination.

Mitch appeared at the end of the long aisle of booths and made a beeline for Piper. “Everything suit you?” he asked, stopping in front of them.

Piper couldn’t find the words. Nothing had suited her. Thankfully, Quinn—once again—came to her rescue.

“This place is amazing,” he said, reaching out to shake Mitch’s hand. “I’ve always been fascinated by Piper’s work, so meeting all these wonderful folks has solidified my respect for this profession.” Quinn’s hand fell away. “Amazing people, they are.”

Mitch didn’t try to hide his grin from the flattery. “I agree. Before I worked with my father, I’d been in all kinds of work: construction, roofing, floral arrangement.”

Piper frowned.

Quinn laughed. “Strange combination.”

Mitch shrugged, eyes gleaming. “I was trying to find my niche.”

“I thought you’d always worked with your father’s restoration business,” Piper said.

“No, I didn’t start until about a year or so before you and I met, Piper.”

There it was again. That rolling feeling of not really knowing someone Piper had thought she’d known. And it had to be this man, the one who’d helped her through her father’s death?

“Dad was the one who actually steered me toward restoration. He’d seen how I liked to work with my hands and create beautiful things. It wasn’t until I got my hands on that first person that I realized what I’d been missing.” A proud smile lit his face. “It’s an amazing thing to turn the face of the dead into something that looks like it has life left in it. It’s fulfilling in a way most people can’t imagine.” His eyes focused on Piper. “Surely you know that feeling. You do restorations yourself, don’t you?”

“Only simple ones,” she murmured, still trying to grasp the new knowledge.

“Again,” Quinn said, “you all never cease to amaze me. What passion you all have for the dead. And for the living, as well.”

Piper didn’t miss the twinkle in Quinn’s eyes. She wondered now if he questioned how Piper dealt with everything. After all, it didn’t seem like a single person they’d met dealt with things like she did. Quinn was surely to take notice and realize there was something wrong with her.

Wait.
Was
there something wrong with her? She drew her lip into her mouth, contemplating the question. The day rolled through her head: each conversation, each lighthearted look into someone’s personal life. With a sigh, Piper realized there was something wrong with her. Something very, very wrong.

And now a new question flitted through her mind: Did she want to be fixed?

“Piper? Did you hear me?”

She focused on Mitch’s voice. “I’m sorry. My mind was wandering for a moment there. What did you say?”

Quinn gave her a once-over, his eyes lingering deeply on hers. She suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed.

“I was telling Quinn that pretty much everyone in the business has a deep passion for people—the living and otherwise, wouldn’t you agree?”

She gulped, a huge lump forming in her throat. Piper didn’t have a passion for the living. She kept herself as far away from them as possible. She only dealt with them when necessary, and even when she did, she did so in her own perfectly practiced way of staying collected and detached as only a trained woman could. Trained by her father in the precise way to deal with suffering and loss. The less it touched her, the better.

“Of course,” she finally said, her eyes never leaving Quinn’s probing ones. He seemed instantly affected by her answer, his expression narrowing into confusion.

Mitch gave her a comforting smile. “I would be difficult to do this job otherwise, I think.” His gaze flickered with pain. “It’s hard, but I like to think it’s rewarding.” His eyes slid from Quinn and back to Piper. “It makes you appreciate the people you do have that much more.”

Piper couldn’t breathe. Instantly lightheaded at that particular realization, she swayed on her feet. Quinn’s always present hand caught her by the waist, steadying her.

“You okay?” Mitch asked. “You’re pale.”

Piper swiped a hand over her brow. “Uh, yeah. It’s been a long day, I guess. I think I’m spent.”

Quinn’s grip massaged her side. “Guess it’s an early night for us, then,” he said, holding out his free hand to Mitch. “It was wonderful to meet you, Mitch. I look forward to the rest of the week.”

Mitch shook his hand, but his focus remained on Piper. “Do you think you’ll be rested enough for the ball tonight?”

Piper shook her head. “I’m not sure.” She didn’t really want to be around these people anymore. Ever. She wanted to pack up her stuff and go back to the safety of her home. Her normal life. The one that didn’t include
emotions,
or any discussions about them. She pressed a puff of air through her lips. “I think I’ve had enough learning and catching up for today. Maybe I’ll sleep and start fresh tomorrow.”

Piper vaguely remembered the haze of goodbyes as she was ushered through the lobby, into the elevator. The only thing that remained firm and certain was the heat at her back and the hand on her waist.
Quinn.
Always present. Always comforting. Always what she needed.

His thumb stroked up and down her arm. His breath warmed the back of her neck. But he said nothing, as if he knew that Piper didn’t want to speak. He led her down the hall, into their room, and gave her a chaste kiss at the door before leading her to the bed.

“You need to rest,” is all he said before carefully depositing her onto the plush mattress.

She needed far more than rest. She needed to figure out what she was going to do with the things she’d learned today. What she was truly going to do with Quinn. What she was going to do with herself after all this. Her life had suddenly shifted, and she wasn’t sure which way to go.

The last thing Piper remembered before dozing off was those impossibly light green eyes focused intently on her. The sight of his concern, his care…it made her heart lurch, reminding her of the very thing she’d been running from her whole life.

Chapter Twenty

There he was, sleeping like a baby in the chair. Piper inched toward him, knowing the way his neck was kinked had to be uncomfortable. How come he hadn’t lain down with her?

Because you’re an utter mess.

She grunted as she stepped in front of Quinn. She was a mess. Everything had shattered around her. Her life as she’d known it. The man sleeping in front of her. Everything.

She’d learned stuff about herself today that she hadn’t liked. She came to the conclusion that she was broken, devoid of emotion, shunning people from her life for the sake of remaining unselfish. She’d truly been running away from
life
while living.

And while that realization was set firmly in her mind, she had no idea what to do about it. No idea how to fix it. And as she gazed at Quinn’s features, she was more torn about what to do about him. But she knew one thing: she couldn’t run anymore. She wouldn’t go back to the comfort of her Wisconsin funeral home to escape those normal people at the conference. She would face them—head-on—like her father would want her to do. Like he’d taught her to do. To be strong, to not let anyone—or anything—get in her way. She might not have any love or stories to spread around, but she did have one thing: her pride. While battered from what she’d learned about herself, it was the only thing that wasn’t completely broken. She was pretty sure, with the help of the man lying before her, she could survive this week of madness and go back to the life she was comfortable with.

Piper didn’t know how long she’d be able to keep on living the way she was, but right now that was all she had—all she knew—so she had to embrace it.
Press on
, as her father would have said. So that was what she was going to do. She was going to go to the ball, dressed in her best, Quinn at her side, and have a good time. She wasn’t going to worry about the people around her thinking she was different. They didn’t know her, only the part she wanted them to see. While she didn’t like to think of it like that, Quinn had reminded her on several occasions that there was more than one version of herself. She wasn’t going to run from the business her father had built. The one that she’d helped mold and grow and had run for the past five years on her own. She couldn’t.

She wasn’t going to worry about how her work and life had stripped her of some of the basic things. Forget about Mitch and all the other people she’d lied to herself about for all those years. She could go on the way she’d always had. No worrying or carrying about others. It was, after all, what she did best. She was a strong woman. A lone woman. Right now, all Piper was going to worry about was having a good time…something she hadn’t had in a very long while.

The only kink in her plan…the only true problem was the man…the painfully beautiful and strong man in front of her who seemed to chip away at that last thing that Piper held strong. Perhaps it was time to put back up that wall Quinn had managed to climb over. Put her emotions back in that little box and bury it. She could do that. She
would
do that, if only to save herself.

<<<<>>>>>

Quinn’s roused with a terrible ache in the side of his neck. He rose, rubbing the spot and glancing at the bed. It was empty. His eyes swept the room, and he found it, too, was empty.

A sound on his right made him swing around. The bathroom door swung open, and Piper, clad in nothing but a towel, stepped out. Her hair was wet mass of cinnamon waves, her eyes sparkling in a way he hadn’t seen earlier that day. She looked rested and well. When her eyes fell on him, she stilled. He gave her a soft smile, desperately wanting to see her smile in return. She didn’t. Instead, her eyes narrowed, and it suddenly looked like she was looking
through
him instead of at him. Seconds turned into minutes as her expression changed from one of a woman who had looked somewhat joyous, to one who suddenly looked sullen.

“I was going to wake you soon,” she said, crossing over to the closet next to the bed. That was when Quinn noticed a white garment bag hanging from a hook on the door. Piper’s fingers danced over the bag; it crinkled beneath her light touch. “I changed my mind about the ball.”

He’d been blind not to notice her indifferent tone. “Why?”

“Did you notice anything odd today?” Her back remained to him, one hand firmly on her towel, and the other firmly gripping the garment.

Her question made him gape. Of course he’d noticed odd things. He’d been surrounded by cremators, undertakers, and general talk of death. To anyone the day would have been odd. Yet he’d been more fascinated by Piper. Her actions—or non-actions, really. She’d been the odd one in the mix of everything he’d seen. Not that he wanted to say that to her.

“Not particularly,” he said, keeping a small distance between them.

“You know, Quinn, you’ve been the only person I’ve ever met who’s interested in what lies beneath a person.”

He took two steps, putting him right behind her. “That’s not true, Piper. You know it’s not.”

She sighed heavily, leaning back against him. The scent of her coconut shampoo engulfed him. He pressed his lips into her wet curls.

“I guess I should have said, what lies beneath
me
,” she corrected.

His arms wound around her. “You know that’s not true either, Piper.”

“That’s what I think.”

“I could name five people who think otherwise.”

“Try me.”

He chuckled in her hair. “Me—”

“You don’t count.”

“Let me finish.” He stroked her arms, enjoying when goose bumps erupted along her soft skin. “My mother and father, my grandpa, KC, and Mitch.”

She stiffened at Mitch’s name, but Quinn ignored it.

“There are more, I’m sure, I don’t know all their names. I’ll bet Margo and Jessica are interested in more than your work. And people like Mr. Butcher and Mr. Ryan. They’ve even said so themselves. You give something to people that you don’t even know you give.”

She twisted in his arms, her lashes fluttering with unshed tears. “What?”

“Compassion. And believe it or not—love.”

Tears fell down her cheeks. “It’s not love,” she murmured.

“Not to you,” he reassured, “but to them, what you give them, feels a lot like it.”

“No.”

He drew her closer, stroking down her back as he nuzzled against her hair. She pressed her face to his chest, clutching his shirt sleeves.

“Piper.” He could think of nothing else to say.

Cradling her tighter, his lips found her ear. “Talk to me.”

She stifled a sob, pressing her face into the front of his shirt.

Dear God, he couldn’t take this. He grasped her hand, saying nothing, and tugged her down on the bed. He stood over her, eyes fixed sharply on her reddened cheeks. The tears had stopped, but her bottom lip still quivered.

“Piper,” he said, his voice hoarse from seeing her in pain, “you’re killing me. Please, God, talk to me. I need to know what’s wrong.”

“I lied to you.” Her own voice was suddenly meek.

A wave of panic washed through him. Limbs shaking, he knelt in front of her. “Tell me, Piper. I can’t make you feel better unless I know what’s wrong. When you came out of the shower, I could tell something was different, but I hadn’t expected you to break down in tears.”

Her gaze dropped to her fingers twisting around the white fluffy towel. “When I got out of the shower, I was ready to face the evening. I’d slept, thought about my day and the ridiculousness of it, and then I decided to do what I do best. I decided some things…some important things…but when my eyes fell on you—”

Before she could finish that sentence, he jerked her up, locking her in his arms and capturing her mouth with a kiss. Soft, easy, sliding his lips over hers. When she moaned and eased against him, he drew away.

“Please don’t be upset, Piper.”

“I want to be honest with you, that’s all. And truly, that’s difficult for me.”

He hugged her tighter. “I know, and yet I don’t want it to be.”

Piper eased back, tears drying on her cheeks. “I’m not used to all…this.”

Quinn closed his eyes. “People got too close to you today, didn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s my fault, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

He kept his eyes clenched. “Which is why you were so distant the more we talked to people.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me how to fix it, Piper.” With that, he dared to open his eyes. Piper’s nutmeg depths were staring directly at him with an intensity he hadn’t seen before. There was something both stunning and terrifying about it.

“You can’t.” She backed away from him, flattening herself against the closet door.

His confusion mounted. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” And he wanted to understand. Badly. But instead of begging, he stood there, biding his time, waiting for Piper to speak.

She crossed and uncrossed her arms. Her gaze flitted around the room before she finally settled back on him.

The first sound she made was a loud resigned sigh. “It’s you, Quinn. It’s always been you.”

He stepped back. “Me? I thought we went over this, Piper.”

“No.
No.
Do you realize I learned more stuff today about all these people than I have the entire time I’ve attended these conferences?”

He’d suspected as much, but he hadn’t really thought it affected her
this
much. Instead of answering, he simply nodded.

“And did you know they have never,
ever,
asked me any personal questions until today? And that’s how I liked it. Now these people—the kindred spirits of sorts—are not kindred at all. The only thing I accomplished today was learning that everything I’ve known and trusted was all a lie—created by yours truly here in order to cope with life. How sad is that? Truly, Quinn, I learned that I am not a person, I have no feelings, no relationships, and I am a robot. Why anyone would want anything to do with me is beyond me.”

He ached to hold her. She had been struggling with the things she’d learned that day. With him, too? He frowned, not really seeing the connection.

“What does that have to do with me?” He kneeled on the edge of bed.

She shook her head, sending her hair waves bouncing. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“No.”

“You, with your counseling background and smooth talking and calm demeanor, have done something that no one has ever been able to do.” Her voice rose, but her expression remained stilted, her eyes narrowed.

“Which is?” He inched forward.

“When I stepped into the shower, I was determined to go back to my life as it was. Not worrying about all the things around me. Doing what I do best, etcetera, etcetera. I’d resigned myself to my fate, what I’d been taught, what I’ve done with myself for the past thirty years. It’s been working so far, right? I could go on with it, you know. Meander through this life without a worry or care.” Her head fell back against the padded headboard. “That’s what I’d planned all along. And it worked. Until I met you…” She glanced up at the ceiling, as if she were looking through the drywall and into the sky above.

He couldn’t stand to see her like this. So torn. So confused.

“What did I do, Piper?”

“You made me care.”

And there it was. The words, so quietly spoken, made his heart hammer in his chest. He’d made her do something she’d never wanted to do. He knew, from Day One, how she felt about
caring.
It was last on her to-do list. He crawled across the bed, pushing apart Piper’s legs, and resting himself in front of her. “I didn’t mean to, Piper.”

When she finally looked at him, locking him in place with a look of both need and distance, he was utterly lost.

“I know,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry I’m such a mess. But you can’t stop being you, Quinn…and that’s what terrifies me the most.”

She was falling for him. He wasn’t blind. And now he had to wonder, in order to keep herself from taking that final leap, was she going to leave him? Was that what this was all about? He wasn’t ready to let Piper go.

He kissed her forehead, pausing to inhale the essence that was only Piper. “Don’t think about this too much. You won’t like where it takes you. The human brain can be a wonderful ally or your worst enemy, depending on how you use it. You’ll always be you, and I’ll always be me. Together, Piper, we can enjoy each other. That’s all I’m asking. And that’s all you want. Why can’t we just—” Words escaped him“—be?”

At that, a light chuckle rolled out of her, tickling his collarbone.

“What’s so funny?”

She drew away, a glimmer of hope in those eyes. “You. I should write down the things you say and sell them to a greeting card company.”

He gave a mocking grunt. “So that’s it? I’m only a greeting card, then?”

A playful smile finally emerged. “I think I told you that once already.”

“Touché.”

“But I like that about you. It reminds me how different we are.”

When her brow drew together, he gave her a swift kiss. “Differences don’t matter, Piper. Only the now does. You don’t have to change if you don’t want to. You’re strong. Independent. Nobody can take that away from you. I’d never want to try. I like you the way you are. Do you think you can just be with me? And not worry about all that other stuff?”