With a Twist (17 page)

“Come in, darlin’,
come in.”

Quinn’s father was gracious as he welcomed Natalie into the apartment where Quinn and his siblings had grown up. Despite already knowing the O’Briens, Natalie was anxious. She hoped it didn’t show on her face.

She handed the bouquet of flowers she’d bought to Quinn’s father. “For you and Mrs. O’Brien. Thank you for inviting me.”

“It’s our pleasure.”

Mr. O’Brien reached out, clamping down on Quinn’s shoulder affectionately. “You’d best have that damn cell phone off unless you want your arse kicked from here to Canarsie.”

“It’s off, Da, okay?”

They were standing in the kitchen. Natalie had to admit, whatever it was Quinn’s mother was cooking smelled delicious. She clasped her hands in front of her nervously, waiting for Quinn’s mother to appear. In the meantime, Quinn’s father had taken the flowers from her and was on his hands and knees in front of a cabinet under one of the kitchen counters, searching for a vase. “There. Found one.”

She looked up at Quinn, who winked at her. She wished his laid-back style allayed her nerves, but no such luck. Natalie forced a smile, her attention now focusing on the sound of talking interspersed with laughter coming from beyond the kitchen.

“Sounds like everyone is here,” said Quinn.

Natalie’s stomach did a flip-flop. Nine people who’d be sizing her up. She discreetly glanced down at what she was wearing, hoping it qualified as casual: a simple pair of black jeans paired with a royal blue turtleneck. Vivi told her the color of the turtleneck brought out her eyes. Natalie had contemplated accessorizing the turtleneck with a deep magenta scarf, but Vivi told her not to. Too French, she said. Too chic. Keep it simple. Natalie, who adored scarves, couldn’t believe how naked she felt; it was almost as if she’d lost her security blanket. She’d worn her hair up, soft tendrils falling around her face. Small, simple gold hoops in her ears. No perfume (which she adored), in case anyone was allergic. She was relieved when Quinn showed up at her—Bernard’s—apartment in jeans himself, though his, of course, hadn’t been ironed, nor had his blue oxford shirt. Natalie couldn’t help herself: she asked him if he wanted her to quickly press his clothes before they left for his parents’. Quinn just laughed at her. “Take me as I am, baby, or don’t take me at all,” he jested. Natalie just sighed.

Just as Quinn’s father exited the kitchen with the flowers, Quinn’s mother appeared, her ubiquitous white apron wrapped around her stout form. She smiled at Quinn and Natalie.

“Welcome,” she said to Natalie. “We’re so pleased you could come.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Natalie replied, momentarily seized by awkwardness. Should she kiss her once on each cheek, as was the French custom? Was that too forward? Too foreign? Too odd? God knows, at Dante family dinners, everyone was always kissing everyone else when they walked through the door. The first time she’d gone with Anthony and Vivi to Michael and Theresa’s, and Michael had greeted her with a big kiss, she’d been taken aback, almost shocked at the invasion of her personal space. She decided she’d take her cue from Quinn’s mother. No kiss, but a soft press of the arm.

“Why don’t you and Quinn go into the living room so you can meet the rest of the clan? Dinner will be done in a moment.”

“It smells wonderful. What is it—if you don’t mind me asking?” Natalie added hastily. She didn’t want Mrs. O’Brien to think she was about to offer up any culinary advice.

“Roast pork with gingersnap gravy, scalloped potatoes, and glazed carrots.”

“Oooh, glazed carrots,” Quinn teased. “Trying to impress your guest, huh?”

“As a matter of fact,” Quinn’s mother replied, “it was your sister. Sinead requested it.”

“God forbid Sinead has regular steamed carrots with butter.” Quinn looked at Natalie. “My sister Sinead’s an attorney at a very prestigious law firm,” he explained. “She makes a lot of money. With each pay raise, her culinary tastes have gone up.”

“Don’t be so hard on your sister,” Mrs. O’Brien chided. “She works like a dog. Like someone else I know.” She leaned in close to Quinn. “Brian’s not with her,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t say anything. I think they’re still rowing over the baby issue.”

“Fine. I won’t even ask where he is. How’s that? He can be the pink elephant in the room.”

“I’ll give you pink elephant. Get on with you, now. Get out of my kitchen.”

Quinn took Natalie’s hand, which she wished he hadn’t done. Her nerves had made her palms somewhat sweaty. “Hurdle number one complete,” he whispered. “Now you just have three hundred more to go.”

Conversation died down as she and Quinn entered the living room. Her anxiety surged, until she noticed that the four faces there were all smiling at her.

“Everyone,” said Quinn, “I want you to meet Natalie, my—friend.”

“Friend?” Liam snorted. “That’s lame, Bro.”

Thank you,
thought Natalie.

“Girlfriend,” Quinn corrected. “That better?”

“Why don’t you ask Natalie?”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn murmured to Natalie. “I’m just not used—”

“No, no, I understand,” Natalie assured him quietly, even though she didn’t understand at all. Oh, they would be speaking about this after dinner. His friend?

Quinn led her over to a gorgeous woman with red hair, sitting on the couch with a man with dark, tousled hair and eyes nearly as gorgeous as Quinn’s. “Nat, this is my sister Maggie, and her husband, Brendan.”

Maggie got up and gave Natalie a quick peck on the cheek. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Natalie could see a strong family resemblance between her and Quinn around the nose and mouth.

Brendan didn’t stand, but he leaned forward, proffering a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you.” His Irish accent was as thick of that of Quinn’s parents.

“You, too.”

“Nice accent,” said Brendan.

“You, too.”

Everyone laughed.

Natalie discreetly wiped her palm on the side of her pants in anticipation of Quinn taking her hand again and leading her toward his other sister, who looked more tired than Quinn often did, if that were possible.

“This is my sister Sinead. She works too hard, which is probably why she gets three migraines a week.”

Sinead sighed. “Once an ass, always an ass.” She, too, stood but didn’t give Natalie a kiss like Maggie did. “It’s nice to meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Quinn blinked, looking confused.

Before he could even ask, Sinead pointed to Liam.

Quinn shook his head incredulously as he looked at his brother. “You know, we should call you the Mouth, not Joey.”

“I make time to see my sisters,” said Liam smugly, “unlike someone else in this room. And I’m not the only source of info. Mom and Dad—”

“How ’bout we stop talking about Natalie like she’s not here?” Quinn cut in.

Natalie blushed.

“Good point,” said Sinead.

“Dinner,” Quinn’s mother called, saving Natalie from being the subject of any further sibling exchanges.
Grateful, she followed Quinn to the table.

Natalie was pleased one of her fears about dinner was misplaced: everything was delicious.

And everyone was solicitous. Natalie worked hard at being as personable as she could be without overdoing it. She let her humor shine through whenever she could as she and Quinn teased each other, which fit right in with the family, since they all seemed to thrive on it. She could have sworn a look of approval passed between Quinn’s parents, but she wasn’t sure.

Eventually they got around to the subject of Vivi’s wedding.

“Where is your sister getting married?” Quinn’s mother asked.

“In Bensonhurst. The ceremony will be in the church my future brother-in-law has attended since childhood. They have to start meeting with the priest once a week, where he talks to them about marriage. Imagine! A man who has never been married and is celibate talking to an engaged couple about marriage! It’s ridiculous!”

“Does your sister agree it’s ridiculous?” Quinn’s mother asked coolly.

“Yes, she does.”

Quinn shot Natalie a quick warning glance, which she ignored. She was entitled to an opinion, was she not? They were well past the niceties of “Tell us about growing up in France.” Why not finally have a lively, interesting conversation, the kind Quinn and she had all the time?

“Are you and your sister both Catholic?”

“Yes, but we’re French.”

Quinn’s mother furrowed her brows on confusion. “I’m not understanding what you mean.”

“The French aren’t very religious. We tend to be a bit more rational.”

“Oh, so religious people are irrational, are they?” Quinn’s mother asked curtly.

“That’s not what she meant, Ma,” said Quinn, squeezing Natalie’s thigh hard under the table.

“Oh?” Quinn’s mother looked very upset.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Mrs. O’Brien, truly,” said Natalie contritely, feeling all Quinn’s mother’s goodwill caving in on her. “It’s just that my sister doesn’t wish to be a hypocrite. She’s not religious at all, and it feels very false to her to see this priest before her marriage, especially since she and her fiancé already live together.”

Quinn let out a small groan under his breath.

“I don’t really approve of that,” Quinn’s mother sniffed, helping herself to more carrots. “As for your sister not wanting to be a hypocrite, perhaps Pre-Cana might give her a bit more insight into the Church and the sacred bond of matrimony she’s about to enter into.”

Natalie didn’t know what to say, and obviously no one else did, either. There were a few seconds of silence and one nervous cough from Quinn’s father before Liam asked Natalie to pass him the potatoes, and the topic was changed to one less rife with the potential for misunderstanding. Natalie knew she’d made a mistake. She just didn’t understand what it was.

“Well, at least
it wasn’t a total disaster.”

Quinn sounded grim as he and Natalie left the Wild Hart. There was still a slight chill in the air when she and Quinn said good-bye to his parents, though both his parents had kissed her on the cheek. She wondered if anything would be different when she came to work on Tuesday. She hoped not.

“I don’t understand.”

“We have a saying here in America,” said Quinn, taking her hand. “Never discuss politics or religion—especially the first time you’re meeting someone.”

“That’s silly,” Natalie scoffed. “Those are two of our favorite things to discuss and debate at home.”

“You’re not at home,” Quinn reminded her gently.

“If I offended your mother, I’m truly sorry. But I had no idea she was a devout Catholic. You could have told me.”

“I didn’t think I had to, because I assumed you knew not to talk about politics and religion.”

“Well, obviously I didn’t,” Natalie said defensively. “She must hate me more than ever now.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t get you. You were doing great until then.”

Natalie wasn’t listening. “I should have asked if I could bring Vivi with me. I’m relaxed around Vivi.”

“I’m not going out with Vivi. I’m going out with you.”

Natalie halted in the middle of the sidewalk. “Oh, we’re going out? I wasn’t sure, since I’m just your ‘friend.’ ”

“Yeah, about that.” Quinn looked apologetic. “I was just trying to avoid my siblings ragging on me, okay?”

“Ragging on you?”

“Teasing me.”

“But you teased each other all through dinner! And they teased me, with that ‘What are you doing with this loser?’ stuff. I was very hurt when you introduced me as your friend. Hurt and confused. What are we? I need to know. I deserve to know.”

Quinn winked. “You’re my gal.”

Natalie stamped her foot in frustration. “Just for once, could you not obfuscate?”

“Obfuscate? Have you been doing Durham’s crossword puzzles?”

Natalie was about to tear her hair out in frustration. “Stop deflecting! Tell me in plain language what I am to you!”

Quinn took her in his arms. “You’re my girlfriend,” he said after a small pause, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek.

“Do you have any idea how uneasy you sound saying that?”

“I am uneasy.” He broke their embrace. “I’m not good at relationships, Natalie, okay?”

“What does that mean?”

“What I said. The women I’ve been with—they either don’t understand how important my work is to me, or they demand so much I bolt because I can’t stand being roped and tied.”

“What do they dare to demand? A commitment?”

“
The
commitment. The big one.”

“So marriage scares you.”

“Right now it does!”

“This might surprise you, Quinn, but I have no desire to marry you.”

Which was true, at least for now. She needed to be settled in her life. And seeing the madness surrounding Vivi and Anthony as they tried to plan their wedding certainly didn’t make it look very appealing.

Her jaw fell in shock when she saw that Quinn looked mildly insulted. “You say marriage scares you, but you have the nerve to look upset when I say I don’t want to marry you?! You can’t have it both ways, you know!”

Quinn held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right, you’re right. Guilty as charged.”

“I’ll apologize to your mother as soon as I get in to work tomorrow.”

“Just let it go for now. I’m sure that by tomorrow, she’ll have forgotten all about it.” He paused, looking at her uncertainly. “Are you sure you can deal with how unpredictable my job is?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Because my phone is on, and it’s vibrating in my pocket.”

“Take it,” Natalie said resignedly, waving a hand in the air. “I know it will drive you mad if you don’t.”

“See, that’s the kind of woman I’ve been looking for. One who gets it.” He pulled the phone from his pocket, flipping it open.
“O’Brien.”

Natalie watched his face closely as he listened to the caller on the other end and pulled his reporter’s pad out, scribbling. He was concentrating intently, yet there was an animation in his eyes she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before.

“Yup . . . on it. Bye.” He flipped the phone closed. “Nat, I’m sorry, but I have to go. There was a body found in an elevator shaft in the East Village.” He dug in his pocket, handing her some crumpled bills. “Let me at least pay your cab fare, since I have to run out this way.”

You don’t have to run out this way,
Natalie thought,
you choose to. There must be other reporters at the paper who could cover this.
She pushed the thought away. Someone had chosen to call Quinn specifically; obviously they wanted him on the story. She was determined to prove she was the only one who “got it.”

“No need to worry. I can pay my own cab fare.”

“You sure?”

“Just go.” Natalie kissed him on the cheek.

“I’ll call you later, okay? And don’t fret about my mother.
Everything will be fine.”