With a Twist (34 page)

Quinn was surprised
when Natalie followed him upstairs to his parents’ apartment after closing time. Clearly she knew what was going on, and clearly his parents considered her family. He was sure that if they could, his parents would disown him and adopt her.

His stomach hurt when he came into the kitchen and caught sight of his mother. There were deep circles under her eyes. On the counter was a large chocolate layer cake, Liam’s favorite since he was a little boy. Natalie walked over to his mom and hugged her tight from behind. His mother burst into tears and turned in Natalie’s arms.

Quinn felt like he was intruding, so he went into the living room. Both his sisters, their eyes swollen from crying, regarded him coldly. Everyone thought Liam’s having to leave was his fault. Everyone was right.

“Where’s Dad?” Quinn asked.

“He’s in the bathroom,” his brother-in-law Brendan answered, “taking some aspirin for his back.” Quinn noticed that once again, he was hiding behind the
Sent
to stay out of the cross fire.

“Can one of you persuade him to go to the doctor, please?” Quinn pleaded. “I’ve tried, and he’s turned a deaf ear. Maybe one of his ‘darlin’ daughters’ would have more success.”

“We’ve all tried,” Maggie answered wearily. “He won’t listen. Face it: he’s never gonna change. Neither of them are.”

Quinn’s father appeared and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “How you doing?”

“Apart from my mother and sisters hating me?” he murmured. “Fine.”

“Ah, don’t mind them,” he murmured back. “It’ll blow over. And for what it’s worth, I don’t blame you for any of this. It’s that Tommy Dolan that’s at fault. I’m glad you’re writing the article, and I’m glad it’s going to run. I hope it winds up putting that evil bastard Connors behind bars, which is where he deserves to be.”

Thank God someone is on my side,
thought Quinn. His father went to talk to Brendan about the Mets game. Quinn looked at Sinead, sitting beside Maggie on the couch, the two of them with their heads together, whispering. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Sinead had a long talk. She’d always been the tense one, the one who held it all inside both personally and professionally. In his opinion, she was even more driven than he was.

He realized that in the past few months, the sibling he’d become closest to was Liam. It was something he never could have imagined happening, but now that it had, he was grateful. He just wished the circumstances were different.

He felt a tug to go back into the kitchen and talk to Natalie, but he was in no mood to face dirty looks from his mother. As it turned out, he didn’t have to: Natalie came into the living room.

“Is she okay?” he asked.

“Non,”
Natalie replied bluntly. “How could she be? But she’s trying to be strong.”

“I suppose like everyone else in this room apart from my father, you think Liam’s having to leave is my fault.”

“What does it matter what I think?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Quinn could see his sisters discreetly watching them. Did they know he and Natalie had split up? They had to. Their mother was gossip central.

“It matters to me.”

“Yes, I do think it’s partially your fault,” Natalie said. “And so do you. I see it in your eyes. There’s guilt there.”

Distressed, Quinn walked away, joining his father and brother-in-law in the sports discussion. He really wished to hell his mother hadn’t invited Natalie. Saying good-bye to his brother was going to be hard enough without having to deal with his ex-girlfriend—who hated him—being there, too.

“Hey, everyone.”

Liam entered the room, looking and sounding surprisingly cheerful. He kissed Natalie and his sisters before hugging Quinn, Brendan, and his father in turn. “Why the long faces?”

They all stared at him as if he was crazy. “Oh, c’mon,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m going on an extended vacation, people. You should be envious of me.”

Mr. O’Brien looked alarmed. “I better not hear from your aunt and uncle that you’re lying around on your arse all day.”

Liam frowned. “As if that’s a possibility. No, I’m sure I’ll find a job pumping gas,” he said sarcastically. “Or at the pub. Or shearing sheep. Or maybe I’ll become the world’s oldest altar boy. We all know there’s so much to do in Ballycraig.”

“World’s oldest altar boy. Now that I’d pay to see,” said Brendan.
Everyone laughed.

His family was
trying to put a good face on things as they sat around the dining room table eating cake in the early hours of the morning, but the subcurrent of melancholy was just too strong. As Quinn thought would be the case, it was Liam who decided when it was time to call it a night.

He looked awkward as he stood up. “I really should get to bed. My flight leaves early tomorrow—actually, today,” he said in so quiet a voice it was difficult to hear.

There was the sound of chairs scraping back from the table accompanied by a heavy, profound silence. His mother, along with Maggie and Sinead, had started weeping. Liam, their father, and Natalie were all teary-eyed. Quinn yearned to cry, but for some reason, her presence held him back.

He noticed Natalie’s discomfort and came up to her as everyone began to take his or her turns hugging Liam. “Are you all right?”

“I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. She removed herself slightly from the ring of family.

“You wouldn’t be here if my parents didn’t think it was appropriate.”

“I feel so badly for your parents.”

“Yeah, me, too,” said Quinn, a lump forming in his throat. “But they’ll go see him in the summer.”

“And will you? Or do you even take vacations?”

Quinn blinked and said nothing. His mother was wailing in his father’s arms, a sound that pierced his heart.
Your fault,
the voice in his head accused.
All your fault.

Finally, it was his turn to embrace his brother. “I ever tell you how proud I am of you?” Quinn said, jaw clenched tight so he didn’t cry. “Probably not enough.”

“Yeah, ’cause you’re a dick.”

They laughed, still holding on to each other.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Liam said as they broke apart.

“What’s that?”

“I want you to write the best effin’ article you can,” Liam said fiercely. “You got that?”

“Got it,” Quinn choked out. He stepped back so his mother could again hug Liam.

“I gotta get outta here,” Quinn said to his father, starting to feel overwhelmed. He hugged him tight. “I’ll see you and Mom tomorrow.”

His father nodded, and Quinn headed for the door, bounding down the stairs.
Only then did he let himself break down.

33

The white lie
Mr. O’Brien told the regulars worked: they had animated discussions about where Liam should go and what he should do on his vacation in Ireland. Mr. O’Brien was working the bar and doing quite well, despite his obvious back pain. Every time he bent down to get something and winced, Natalie winced, too.
There was no way he could do this long term,
she thought. They’d have to find a replacement for Liam and fast. She made a mental note to ask Anthony if he might know someone.

The O’Briens kept up a surprisingly good facade. Liam’s absence seemed to hit Quinn especially hard. A few times Natalie caught him looking broody as he stared down into his whiskey.
He feels guilty,
she thought,
and well he should.
She tried to muster some sympathy for him but couldn’t. Right now, her opinion was that his damn article had hurt both her and Liam. She hoped it was worth it.

As usual, the dining room was hopping. Were she managing the restaurant, she would definitely employ another waitress, but it wasn’t for her to say. She knew better than to make suggestions to Mrs. O’Brien about anything.

A table of firefighters, whom she had become fond of because they were very funny and down to earth, asked for their usual, and she hustled to the bar to give Mr. O’Brien their orders. He was patiently listening to Mrs. Colgan rattle on tipsily about how she might get a new parrot and name it Rudy the Second. He seemed glad of a reason to cut the conversation short.

“Mad as a bloody hatter, that one,” he said under his breath to Natalie.

“You all encourage her, though!”

“Ah, she’s harmless enough. And her late husband was a good sort. Hardworking man, construction. Bit of a bastard when he drank, though, from what I understand.”

“You encourage PJ, too. And the Mouth.”

Mr. O’Brien shrugged diffidently. “Lonely souls. If they get a bit of comfort and company being here, there’s no harm in it, right?”

Natalie agreed. This was one of the reasons she’d become so fond of Quinn’s family: they all had such good hearts. So did Anthony’s family, come to think of it. She felt a warm glow inside as she realized how lucky she was, knowing so many warm, wonderful, kind people in New York. It was lovely.

As she’d vowed, she’d returned all the items from her spending spree. It was hard, but she felt so much lighter for doing the right thing. She also attended a Shopaholics Anonymous meeting, realizing she should have been going all along. It was good to be reminded that she wasn’t the only one who backslid. No one was perfect; it would always be a struggle. But it was one she intended to win.

“Natalie?”

Mason. She made her way down to his end of the bar, expecting he’d want her to get him another Stella Artois. But his bottle was still half full.

Natalie smiled. “Hello, Mason. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering what you were doing Sunday night.”

The question was so unexpected, she was momentarily tongue-tied. “Um . . .”

Mason forged ahead. “There’s a new Spanish restaurant opening on the Upper West Side that’s gotten amazing reviews. I know you appreciate fine dining. Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

Natalie felt helpless. “Mason . . .” She knit her hands together nervously beneath the bar. “I’m not really interested in dating right now.”

“It’s not a date,” he insisted with that charming smile of his. “Just a friendly meal.”

Another delusional man,
Natalie thought. He was telling her what she wanted to hear to try to convince her to go out with him, but she knew how he felt about her. There was longing in his eyes every time they spoke. If she agreed to dinner, there would be others until eventually, he would try to turn it into something amorous. She couldn’t lead him on that way, even though the wicked part of her that longed to get back at Quinn was tempted to accept his offer, since she knew Mason would tell Quinn about it just to torture him. But it wasn’t right to use someone that way.

“I’m sorry, Mason, but I can’t,” Natalie said gently. “I have too much on my plate right now. But I appreciate you asking me.”

“Mmm,” he said stiffly. “Perhaps when you’re over O’Brien—”

“This has nothing to do with Quinn,” Natalie cut in frigidly.

Clement’s stony silence spoke volumes.

Natalie picked up the tray of firefighters’ beers and walked away.