With a Twist (40 page)

Natalie was surprised
to find Quinn already there when she arrived home after her shift. As had been the pattern when he worked at the
Sent
, he and his cohorts from the
Standard
usually went out to unwind after work, though they hung out at a different bar. He still came into the pub a few nights a week to spend time with his old friends. On those nights, he and she would go home together. But on the nights he was with his coworkers from the
Standard
, he usually arrived home after her.

Once they’d reconciled, they decided to move in together. They didn’t feel comfortable living in Bernard’s apartment, and Quinn’s place was simply too small. Providence came in the form of Jeff Rogan, who’d taken a newspaper job down in South Carolina. Quinn and Natalie took his apartment down in the Financial District, a spacious two bedroom at a surprisingly affordable rent. The area was dead at night, but it didn’t matter. She worked most nights, and the nights Quinn wasn’t running around chasing a story, he liked to stay at home and surf the Internet for possible ideas or lounge on the couch and watch political pundits scream at each other. The nights they were together, they either stayed in or went out to a movie, though occasionally she was able to convince Quinn to check out an off-Broadway play or a new art gallery. Mr. News Junkie would never be a total culture vulture, but at least he was open to new things—as was she. She’d gone to two hockey games with him and was bored to tears, which Quinn found amusing. “You’re still a snob when it comes to some things,” he teased affectionately. She replied that she didn’t see the allure in games so violent. Grown men crashing into each other? She’d never understand it.

Quinn had kept his promise to her, putting their relationship before work. Natalie could tell it was hard on him at first. Work had been his only love for years, and it was tough to break old habits. But he did it: no longer was his cell phone on all night, because he knew there were reporters and editors who worked the overnight shift who could handle whatever came in. He was still the one sent out on most major stories, and yes, sometimes his hours were erratic and dragged on late into the night. But he no longer seemed compelled to try to cover every single breaking story in the city. She knew he missed spending time in the newsroom with his friends at the
Sent
, but he often professed how glad he was to be out of there, especially since Mason Clement had fulfilled his mission on behalf of Hewitt Corporation, completely transforming the paper into an entertainment-driven tabloid.

Quinn looked up at her from his desk, where his face was practically touching the computer screen. “
Bonjour
, beautiful. How was work?”

“Fine. PJ Leary wants you to call him. He says he needs help editing his book.”

Quinn groaned.

“He admires you.”

“Clearly.”

Natalie hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes. “Has it occurred to you that you might need glasses?”

Quinn blinked. “No.”

“Then why were you leaning so close to the screen?”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

She sat down on the couch, patting the space beside her. Quinn got up but parked himself on the opposite end, gesturing for her to stretch out and put her feet in his lap. Natalie complied, giving a deep sigh of pleasure as he began massaging her feet. It had become a nightly ritual.

Natalie wiggled her toes. “Anthony offered me the manager’s job at Dante’s today.”

Quinn looked delighted. “That’s fantastic!”

“You really think so?” she asked uncertainly.

Quinn’s expression turned baffled. “Of course I do. It’s the perfect situation: you two know each other—”

“But Anthony can be a bit crazy. And he has a bad temper.”

“Most chefs are crazy. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

“Vivi isn’t crazy.”

“Maybe crazy is a bad word. He’s temperamental. And so is she.”

“I’m afraid he’s going to yell at me,” Natalie admitted sheepishly.

“Of course he will. But so what? At least you’ll be getting yelled at by someone you know and like. And once you get the hang of things, he’ll stop.”

“That’s what he said.”

He squeezed her feet. “Take it, Nat. It’s what you’ve wanted.”

“All right.” She lifted one of her feet from his lap, running her toes up and down his chest. “How was your day?”

“Two cops in Queens shot some guy on a rooftop with their Taser guns, and the guy plummeted to his death,” he said excitedly. “There’s gonna be a big investigation.”

“Sounds like it’s right up your alley.”

“Hell yeah,” Quinn agreed, looking pleased. He lifted her foot to his lips, giving her toes a quick nibble before putting her foot back in his lap. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He sounded serious, immediately catapulting Natalie into nervous mode. “Okay.”

“I think we should get married.”

Natalie sat up, stunned. “What?”

“I think we should get married,” Quinn repeated firmly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and my gut tells me it’s time.”

Natalie was completely flummoxed. She hadn’t seen this coming at all.

Quinn’s brows knit together. “You seem surprised.”

“I am.”

“I don’t see why. I love you, you love me. What are we waiting for?”

Good question.

“We both said we want what Vivi and Anthony and my folks have,” he continued. “And we’re not getting any younger.”

Natalie’s mouth fell open. “I beg your pardon!”

Quinn laughed. “I’m just teasing.”

“You’d better be.”

“So, what do you say?”

“I say this isn’t a very romantic proposal.”

Quinn shook his head. “I knew you’d say that. You want me to get down on my knee, don’t you?”

“No! But you could at least put your arms around me!”

“True.” Quinn wrapped his arms around her. “Miss Natalie Bocuse, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

Natalie sniffed. “Maybe.”

Quinn drew back in alarm. “What?”

Natalie rolled her eyes. “I’m kidding. Of course I’ll be your wife.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He fished in the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a very simple gold engagement ring with a fairly small diamond. He looked sentimental. “This was the first engagement ring my father gave my mother, back in Ireland.”

“The first?”

“Yeah. Years later, when they started making decent money, he bought a fancier one for her for their anniversary. But my mother held on to this one in the hopes of passing it on to me or Liam, whichever one of us decided to get married first.”

Natalie took the ring, looking at it. “I love it,” she whispered. “I love that it has a history. I think it will bring us very good luck.” She handed it back to Quinn, extending her left hand. Quinn slipped the ring on her finger. She’d have to have it sized down, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was their love and the commitment they were going to make to one another.

Quinn brushed his lips across hers. “This is the best night of my life.”

“Mine, too.”

“I say we do it soon.”

Natalie was puzzled. “Why the rush?”

“I want to make you mine before you change your mind.”

She felt a rush of affection for him. “If I haven’t changed it yet, I never will.”

“I’m thinking we’ll keep it small,” Quinn continued. “Family, my friends from the
Sent
, anyone you want to come from Paris, the regulars . . .”

Natalie shook her head vehemently. “No.
Non
. I do not want a contingent of crazy people at my wedding.”

“But they’re like family,” Quinn protested.

“No.”

“All right, all right,” Quinn capitulated with a sigh.

“You seem to have already given this a lot of thought,” Natalie noted with amusement. “Any thoughts about where you’d like to have this celebration? And don’t say at the pub.”

“My sister Sinead owns a gorgeous house up in Sullivan County that she only uses on weekends. It’s very modern, open, with lots of glass because the views are spectacular. I think we should have it there.”

“I’ve never even seen it!”

“Yeah, but once you do, I think you’ll fall in love with it.”

“How come you haven’t taken me there yet?”

Quinn looked grim. “She’s kind of been hibernating there, pretty much wanting to be left alone since she and her husband split up. But she said she’d stay in the city next weekend so we could check it out.”

“So your whole family already knows about this.”

“Basically,” Quinn mumbled. “I mean, the cat was out of the bag the minute I asked my mother for the ring.”

“And when was that?”

“Two days ago.”

“No wonder she’s been so cheery at work! She’s been waiting for this to happen!”

“Yep. So how long do you think we need to pull this thing together? Two months?”

“Are you mad?” Natalie squawked, marveling at how utterly clueless men could be sometimes. “I have to find a dress! We have to find caterers, music, flowers, someone to marry us, plan a honeymoon . . .”

“Four months?”

“Five. Even if it’s a small wedding, I don’t want to be rushed.”

“Agreed.” He twined his fingers through hers. “It would really mean a lot to me if we invited PJ, the Mouth, and Mrs. Cogan.”

“Quinn.”

“C’mon, you know that deep in your heart you love them, too,” he ribbed. “Admit it.”

Natalie sighed heavily. “If it’s that important to you . . .”

“It is.”

She tenderly ran an index finger down his cheek. “Why is it that I can’t deny you anything?”

“I’m guessing because I’m so adorable.” He picked up his cell phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling my mother. I told her I was going to pop the question tonight. I’m sure she’s waiting breathlessly by the phone.”

“Good thing I didn’t say no,” said Natalie dryly, getting up from the couch. “I’m going to wait until the morning to call Vivi. If I call her now, she’ll be so excited she’ll never get to sleep.” Natalie held out her left hand, admiring her beautiful engagement ring. What a wonderful day she’d had: first Anthony’s job offer, and now this. It couldn’t get much better.

She looked back at Quinn, moved by how happy he sounded as he told his mother their good news. If anyone had told her two years ago that she’d be marrying the rude journalist who’d made disparaging remarks about Parisians the first time they’d met, she would have snorted loudly, told them they were insane, and walked away. Yet here they were, madly in love, and she was happier than she’d ever been in her life. She hugged herself with glee and then continued on to their bedroom, intent on getting some sleep. From now on, she’d need all the rest she could get. After all, she had a wedding to plan.

“Darlin’, you’re one
of the most beautiful brides I’ve ever seen, and I swear that on the heads of my children.
Whenever you’re ready.”

Natalie choked back tears as Quinn’s father offered her his arm in preparation to walk her “up the aisle.” Just as Quinn had promised, Sinead’s house was gorgeous, perched high atop a hill in Bearsville with spectacular views of rolling hills and small mountains. Since they’d decided on July for the wedding, they were getting married outside beneath a white trellis adorned with pink roses and baby’s breath. Rows of white folding chairs had been set up on either side of the trellis, constituting “the aisle.” They’d asked one of the guitarists from the band who’d played Vivi and Anthony’s reception to play the “Wedding March” on acoustic guitar for them. He’d happily agreed.

The reception was being held on the front lawn beneath a large white tent with a small dance floor in the middle. They had hired the same band that had played Vivi’s wedding, as well as the same caterers, Spallone. Anthony’s pastry chef made the three-tiered wedding cake. Ken Durham was Quinn’s best man; Vivi was Natalie’s matron of honor. Hoping to bury the hatchet once and for all, Natalie had invited her mother, but she’d refused to come. Natalie was mildly stung, but she knew it was better this way. Her mother’s sour, judgmental disposition would have clouded her happiness.

Since it was a more low-key affair than Vivi and Anthony’s wedding, Quinn, his father, and his groomsman were all wearing suits rather than tuxes. At Natalie’s behest, Quinn had bought a new suit for the wedding. The only one in a tux was PJ Leary, who was doing very well. After Whitey was jailed, he decided he didn’t want to rent his old writing room back, and was now writing in his apartment to save money. The others who’d been Whitey’s victims were doing well, too: Franco the tailor decided he indeed wanted to retire after all; he sold his business, made a mint, and moved to Florida. The Sweeneys collected their insurance money and reopened their hardware store in the same locale, while the owners of the video store used their insurance money to open shop in a different neighborhood. Dominick Tallia’s business remained firmly in his control.

Natalie felt a wellspring of emotion deep in the pit of her belly as she watched Vivi walk up the aisle with Kenny Durham. For a split second, it all seemed surreal; she couldn’t quite believe her wedding day had finally arrived. But when she saw Quinn come outside to stand beneath the trellis and wait for her, the joyous reality of the day washed over her.

Natalie nodded her head at the guitarist, and he began playing. Slowly, she walked toward the trellis on her future father-in-law’s arm toward Quinn, who was looking at her with such love it took her breath away. Her father-in-law kissed her when they reached the trellis, turning her over to Quinn before he went to sit down.

Quinn took her hand, twining his fingers through hers in a strong grip. “God, you look beautiful,
ma petite homard
,” he whispered.

“And you look incredibly handsome, though I’m having second thoughts about marrying a man who calls me his little lobster.”

Quinn grinned, squeezing her hand.

The second the ceremony started, the world faded away. The only two people who existed were she and Quinn, their eyes locked in a loving gaze. Natalie couldn’t help herself: she began crying tears of joy. By the time Quinn asked her to be his wife, she was sobbing and had to compose herself before she could answer. It was only when they were pronounced man and wife that she once again became aware that they’d shared the moment with family and friends. Quinn tenderly wiped her tears away, and they started back down the aisle.
She’d never, ever, been this happy in her life.