As if I didn’t know that. “I didn’t say I wanted to. I was explaining that it had sentimental value.”
Quinn’s posture relaxes now that he sees he won’t have to fight me. Our day has been the best. I’m so glad I coerced him into bringing me here and away from work, where he’s still spying for two idiots named Mark and Jackson.
“Can we at least ride the carousel?” He looks like he’s ready to throw himself off the pier. “Please,” I whine.
“I’m totally getting a blow job tonight.”
I’ll agree to anything if I can stay here a little longer. “Fine.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I shrug. “Let me ride the pony, and then I’ll ride you.”
He groans, his head falling back. “If you take one photo of this, I swear . . .”
Oh, the temptation is strong with that one. How much fun would it be for the guys to see him straddling a freaking plastic horse? The blackmail that I would be in possession of is almost worth it. However, he’s given me the best day ever.
Everything I wanted to do, we’ve done. Games, the arcade, the food—hell, even walking on the boardwalk with him was the best.
Almost as good as our date in New York. The only reason it doesn’t top that is because that was our first real date, and it will always be my favorite.
This is a very close second.
“I promise no photos. I have this entire day cataloged in my head.”
Quinn’s lips touch my forehead. “Then let’s go make sure you never forget it.”
We get our tickets to ride and get on right away. It’s a little later in the season, and since it’s a weekday, it’s not nearly as crammed. “I want the one with pink hair.”
He runs his hand down his face. “And here I thought you might try to emasculate me and make me take it.”
“I would never. You can ride the black stallion.”
“Yes, that makes it all better.”
I ignore his comment and climb up. “This is so great!”
Quinn getting on the horse is pure comedy. He’s big and the seat isn’t so he’s sitting half ass on and half on the back.
Do not take a photo, Ashton.
I swear I will be a grown-up.
“You know, this carousel has been around since like 1930.”
“They must’ve been smaller men back then,” he notes.
Before either of us can say more, the ride begins. Slowly, we turn, the horse going up and down gracefully. I hold on to the pole and look up, watching the mechanisms go before I close my eyes and smile.
When I pull myself back, I look to the man I love. He’s sitting there, staring at me with the strangest expression. “What?”
“You.”
“Me?”
Quinn nods. “You’re beautiful, and when you were holding on, head back, and smiling . . . it took my breath away.”
Now it’s my turn to struggle to breathe.
His hand extends, and I don’t hesitate placing mine in his. We ride for the rest of the time with our fingers intertwined, enjoying the moment.
The ride stops, Quinn dismounts and comes to help me off. We stand there, facing each other, and my heart races. I don’t know why, but I feel as though everything has changed in this last few moments.
“Thank you,” I say as my hand lifts to touch his cheek.
“No, my sweet fragolina. Thank you. I don’t know what I would do if we never had a day like this.”
“Me either, and I’m glad we never have to know.”
He leans in, giving me the sweetest kiss. “No, we never will know a life without each other because I will never let you go. Ever.”
31
Ashton
“I’m so tired,” I complain as Quinn kisses my forehead. All week, he’s been following around Jackson’s former in-laws. Last night, he didn’t get home until after eleven, and since becoming pregnant, I’m ninety years old and can’t stay up that late anymore.
“Go back to sleep, love.”
“I can’t now. I’m up,” I grumble as I reach for him. I’d much rather he stay in bed. “Come back here.”
“I have to work.”
“You mean stalk.”
Quinn sits on the bed beside me, pushing my hair back off my face. “You feel warm.”
“It’s because I’m hot for you,” I mutter with one eye open.
He smiles. “Are you feeling okay?”
I swat his hand away. “I’m fine. I’m tired and cranky since you suck and won’t stay in bed with me.”
I wanted a snuggle day. I never thought I’d be the kind of girl who would want to lie around with a guy because I love work. It gives me purpose and joy, but after taking a few weeks off, I realize this is the good life. Maybe I was built to be a trophy wife, who knew?
“I’m serious, are you getting sick?”
I lean up and glare at him. “No, I’m hot when I sleep. I feel fine.”
“Okay. Well, I would’ve stayed with you if you were sick.”
Asshole.
I fake cough. “Come to think of it . . . I am feeling a little congested.”
He gets to his feet with a laugh. “Nice try, babe. I’ll be back early. I just need to check on something.”
So he says now. “Whatever.”
I flop back onto the bed as he walks out the room. I hear the front door click and curl on my side, hoping to fall asleep.
I end up staring at the door to the bathroom, when I would much rather be looking at my hunky boyfriend, and get pissy. Not wanting to let my mood take over, I rise and start to clean my apartment. The one thing that Quinn does that makes me crazy is refuse to put anything in a hamper.
Why is this so hard?
You bend down, pick it up, and put it in the basket. The man can dismantle a gun with his eyes closed but can’t manage this. It’s maddening.
I grab his socks, which were tossed haphazardly on the floor. Then I grab his shirt, which apparently couldn’t make it there either. And finally, I snatch up his pants, which were under the shirt.
Seriously. I’m going to beat him.
I gather the laundry and head to the machine. There are some people who hate to clean, but I love it. It’s a perfunctory task that allows me to give order to an otherwise chaotic world. I sort the clothes and then start to fill the tub. I empty the pockets of each item and when my hand hits something hard, I groan.
“Quinn.”
I pull out the object and my heart drops. It’s a ring box. A black, velvety ring box. It might not be that kind of ring. He’s given me a ring actually. It sits on my right ring finger, reminding me that he loves me without end.
A good person would put the box back, not look, and go on with their life. I’ve never once claimed to be good.
What do I do?
I grab my phone and video chat Catherine.
“Hey.” She smiles as she comes on screen. Erin is resting on her chest, head nestled into the crook of her neck.
“Awww. She’s so cute.”
“She didn’t sleep at all last night.”
“Yeah, you look like shit,” I say with the love only a best friend has.
“Thanks.”
“So . . .” I go right into it. “I was doing the laundry, and I found something.”
Catherine’s eyes alight with interest. “Do tell . . .”
I lift the black box and show it to her. “Do you think . . .?”
“Open it!” she whisper-shouts.
See, this is why I call her for stuff like this. Gretchen would’ve scolded me and given me shit about ruining a surprise. She’s the friend that we would call after we buried the body. Catherine is who helps dig the hole.
I position the phone so she can watch and lift the lid.
Sure enough, it’s that kind of ring.
“Holy shit,” we both say in unison.
It’s beautiful. It’s insanely perfect and . . . it’s huge. There sits what has to be at least a two-
and-a-half-carat, princess-cut solitaire. I pull it out, holding it up and inspecting it. “How much is Jackson paying him?” I ask.
“Wow, Ash. That’s gorgeous. He did good.”
Yeah he did. “I don’t know what to say now.”
“What do you mean?”
“How the hell do I talk to him knowing he has this sitting around for whenever?”
Catherine groans. “You cannot ruin this for him.”
“Of course I can’t, but I will! I’m impatient as fuck on a good day, but now? Knowing that this is here? I’m screwed!”
I didn’t think this through at all. I wanted to know if it was a ring, I didn’t fret over what the hell I would do if it was one. Shit.
I don’t know how to process this.
Quinn is serious about all his marriage talk. He has a freaking ring. I try to rack my brain to figure out if he mentioned anything special coming soon. I don’t think there are plans. All he’s been doing is following around Jackson’s possible suspect, which Catherine doesn’t know about. At least I can keep that secret.
We don’t usually keep secrets from her, and this is one I really hate. She should know about his company issues. Hell, once upon a time, she was hired to actually handle the issues he was facing. Catherine is a damn publicist and crisis management something or other. She’s smart with this stuff, but nooo, these idiots want to make sure she thinks things are good.
“Ashton,” Catherine calls my name.
“Huh?”
“What the hell is going on in your mind?”
I can’t tell her that. “Scary things, my friend.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be unusual.”
“Sad, but true. How do I get him to propose tonight?”
Catherine’s eyes close, and she is clearly gathering her wits. I tend to get this reaction from her often. “You can’t push him on this. I know you think it’s fine, but it’s not. He needs to give it to you when he’s ready.”
I let out a loud groan. “I hate you.”
“I’m used to it.”
I collapse onto the couch and a wave of nausea hits me. I don’t know if it’s nerves or something else, but I feel like shit. My hand sits on my stomach, and my face scrunches up.
“You okay?” Cat asks.
“Yeah, I just don’t feel . . . right.”
“That’s called having a conscience. The feeling will pass once you get used to it.”
“You know, I don’t like you all that much right now.”
She ignores that because it’s not like she hasn’t heard it before. Another roil goes through me, and I sit up in case I’m going to hurl. It doesn’t seem like that’s the issue, though. It’s a slight cramp.
“Did you eat something bad?”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so, and aren’t I a bit late for morning sickness? But it’s almost like a little cramp in my side.”
Catherine nods with a worried look on her face. “I had a bit of cramping when Erin was growing. My doctor said it was normal.”
“It is? I don’t know. Maybe I need to lie down. Between Quinn being out all day, the ring, and everything else, I’m . . . I’m just out of it.”
“Sounds good, go put the ring away first and then get some rest. Call me when you wake up so I don’t worry, okay?”
I agree, and we hang up. I do as she says, then throw yesterday’s outfit back onto the floor the way he had it—or, at least the best I can remember, and curl back into bed. Another cramping feeling comes on, and I take a few deep breaths.
I try not to let my mind go too far over the deep end of doom. I’m fifteen weeks along which is more than I was when I lost the first baby. We’ve done everything right with doctor’s appointments, and there’s been nothing to indicate anything is wrong.
This could be nothing. Dinner last night could be sitting wrong. I could be getting sick like Quinn thought.
Yes, that’s what it probably is.
A virus.
I close my eyes and put my meditation app on because I need some Zen and peace. When I wake up, it’ll be fine.
32
Quinn
What should’ve been no more than an hour has turned into three. Madelyn’s father is a strange guy. Thanks to Charlie’s “friend,” we were able to hack into his calendar. Today, he is meeting with someone.
Normally, an appointment wouldn’t stand out. Hell, everyone meets someone, but it was the way it was labeled that caught our attention.
Now, I’m waiting at a coffee shop, trying to blend in as I watch him stare out through the windows.
His demeanor is what has my senses sharpened. He’s fidgeting—a lot.
My phone rings in my pocket, and I see Ashton’s face.
I debate answering, but then I remember how she was before I left. “Hey,” I say turning my head so no one will be able to see me.
“Hey, where are you? Are you on your way yet?”
She sounds fine, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “I’ll be home soon.”
I wish I were heading back to her now. I have a big plan for us for after I scope out this meeting. We are going to walk through Central Park again, enjoy the nicer weather since it’ll be getting colder soon. Then I’m going to take her to dinner, which is where I’m going to ask her to marry me.
“Okay, but I’d like you to come home.”
“I can’t right now, but I promise, I’d much rather be with you.”
She sighs. “How long do you think?”
I smile because, a few months ago, she wouldn’t have asked when I was coming home, she’d be trying to knee me in the balls. Everything has changed, and all because of one moment in time. It’s sad to think about how, if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be here—not in this shop, I’d rather not be here, but in my life—right now. I have the love of a woman I don’t deserve, a job that doesn’t suck, and a baby on the way.
In about a month, we should find out if it’s a boy or a girl, and then, god help my credit card, Ashton and I can start to plan more.
I want to convince her to move to Virginia. Our friends are there, and it would be good for us to get a fresh start away from the city.
“Maybe another half hour?”
“Okay, I’m . . . I’m not trying to be a pain, I’m just not feeling right. I tried to take a nap, but I can’t sleep.”
My pulse spikes, but I calm myself immediately. Fear is a mindset. “What doesn’t feel right?” I ask and then turn to look for the subject, but he’s gone.
Fuck.
“I don’t know, I feel weird . . . and I’m probably being overly stupid, but I want you home.”
“Okay, I’m on my way. Give me a few.”
I can almost hear the relief when she says, “Thank you, babe. I’m sure it’s fine. Really, I can wait a bit, just talking to you already made me feel better.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll call my mom while I wait.
“I’ll be there soon,” I promise.
I make my way out of the coffee shop and look both ways, scanning the people until I spot the top of what I believe to be his head. I follow, staying two people behind just in case, and then stop when I see him talking to someone—a woman.
I continue on, mainly because this is the way home anyway, and observe. They turn the corner, and I debate what to do. I can follow him and see what the hell he’s doing or go home to Ashton.
That gut feeling that something isn’t normal is telling me this isn’t nothing. People don’t schedule meetings and move them for no reason.
I close my eyes for a split second and turn where he did. I need to follow this through. I won’t be more than ten minutes.
I walk down the road, which isn’t nearly as busy as the street we turned off. There’s a small store and another coffee shop, so I do my best to look uninterested while taking it all in.
My gaze scans, but he’s not around, and then I hear something coming from the parking garage to my ri
ght.
I move, staying close to the building as I duck inside and behind a pillar.
“It’s not like that,” the voice of Jackson’s former father-in-law says.
A male voice laughs. “It’s exactly like that. Pay up.”
I move forward a little more, staying as close to the shadows as I can. “I paid you already. I don’t know what else you could want.”
The female speaks this time. “I’m sorry.”
“It was one time, Jennica. One time that I slept with you, and you’re making me pay for it for the rest of my life. My wife has been through enough and I won’t have her hurt.”
Someone is blackmailing them. It’s clear, but for money? That’s nothing to do with Jackson.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I promise I will never contact you again,” Jennica says with a hint of sadness.
It’s clear that Jennica is being used to get to Jackson’s former father-in-law, but why? Either way, it’s nothing to do with Cole. At least there’s some relief there.
The man I’ve been following sighs. “Just, let me be. Don’t come back again. There will be no more money.”
Mistakes that come back to haunt us never really go away.
She goes quiet, and I hear footsteps heading my way. I slink even farther back, moving behind the pillar and off to the side.
He passes me, and a second later, the girl behind him follows. I wait until she rounds the corner, and my phone buzzes.
* * *
Ashton: Quinn, come home. Now. Something’s wrong with the baby.
* * *
Fuck. No. I have to get the hell out of here and to her.
Moving quickly, I walk toward the exit of the garage, but before I get there, someone taps my shoulder.
I spin fast, instantly regretting that I forgot there was a third person.
Before I can register anything, something slams so hard into my head that everything goes black.
33
Ashton
Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. Tears are coming, and my blood pressure is through the roof. I can taste the adrenaline coursing through me.
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