Archer and I together, raising our child together as a family.
16
Archer
Smiling, I take Quinn’s hand. “Things are quite different now than the last time we walked up and down this river.”
“You’re not kidding,” she says back with a laugh. We just got done with dinner and are enjoying the night out together.
“Though one thing is the same.”
“What?”
My heart is in my throat, but this time I’m not nervous. “I was in love with you then, like I am now.”
Quinn stops short, grip on my hand tightening. Her lips are slightly parted with shock, but her eyes are sparkling. “What?”
I pull her close, heart thumping away. “If you’re not ready to say it back, that’s okay. But I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” she says with a laugh, blinking back tears. “I knew I was falling but was scared you didn’t feel the same.”
“I do, babe. I really fucking do.”
Unable to keep my lips off hers any longer, I lean down and kiss her deeper than I should be kissing her in public, but I can’t help it.
“Wait.” She breaks away and for a split second, I think she’s going to tell me she takes her words back. “You were in love with me that night we hooked up?”
“I’ve been in love with you for even longer than that.” I take her hand again and lead her to a bench. We sit, and I wrap her in my arms. “Do you remember the first time we met?”
“When you came home with Dean?”
“No, when Dean was moving into the dorm.”
“Oh, yeah. I do now. I thought you were cute.”
“I thought you were too,” I confess for the first time ever. “I didn’t realize you were so young. You had on a tight black dress and your tits were practically falling out. You looked older than fourteen.”
“I forgot about that. I bought my first pushup bra the day before and Jamie and I were going to talk to seniors down at the lake. My dad found out and made me come with them to Purdue. I was so mad.”
“I was all for making a move until I found out you were four years younger than me.”
“That wouldn’t have gone over well with my brothers.”
“Not at all. You were a minor.”
“But then I wasn’t,” she starts.
“Trust me, on your eighteen birthday I thought about it. I’ve always been insanely attracted to you, Quinn. And then I got to know you—and your family. Things got complicated. I didn’t tell you how I felt before out of respect for Dean. He’s more of a brother to me than my own brother. Hell, Logan, Owen, and Wes are too. But then I saw you again the weekend of Dean’s engagement party, and it was so hard not to kiss you.”
“Is that why you were such an asshole?”
“I wasn’t an asshole.”
She snickers and rolls her eyes. “Sure you weren’t.”
Running my hand over her hair, I chuckle. “Fine, and I have no excuse for it. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I wanted you so much it was frustrating.”
“I know the feeling.” She cups my cheek in her hand and locks her eyes with mine. “I had a major crush on you as a kid, that apparently you knew about.”
“I did, and it didn’t help my situation. Especially when you were walking around in your bikini flirting with me. You were older then, but still a minor. And still Dean’s sister.”
She laughs. “I’m sorry for giving you blue balls. I can make it up to you tonight.”
“I’m going to take you up on that offer.”
“I can put on a bikini too, but I don’t look the same as I did when I was fourteen, you perv.”
“I was really conflicted after I found out you were so young.”
“I bet. Though if it makes you feel any better, one of Weston’s friends used to hit on me. And he did know about our age difference.”
“Gross. At least we’re only four years apart, not eight.”
“I know, right? That guy continued his love for younger girls and ended up being one of the first people Wes ever arrested.”
I laugh. “Interesting turn of events. So, hypothetically speaking, if I had asked you out years ago, would you have said yes?”
“Depends on when you asked.” Her eyes sparkle again. “I went through a very dark period where I thought I was in love with Andrew Winslow.”
“I remember that. You spent a lot of the summer locked in your room crying.”
“Being a teenage girl is rough. Are you sure you’re ready for this?” She puts her hand on her belly again. “If she’s anything like me she might be a little dramatic.”
“A little?”
“Hey, now. At least I have other redeeming qualities.”
“You do.” I put my lips to hers again. “Want to head back?”
“Yeah. I’m getting tired and we’ve only had sex once so far today.”
“We do have to prepare for the rest of the week apart.” We get up and start walking, and as much as I’m enjoying being out on a date with Quinn, we’re both ready to call it a night. She’s tired and I’m exhausted. I was in surgery all night with back-to-back emergencies, slept for three hours on the breakroom couch, and then had my scheduled procedures this morning.
I cannot wait until I’m not a fucking resident anymore.
I put my arm around Quinn as we walk, going a few strides together in silence.
“Hey,” I start when we come to a stop at an intersection. Cars fly by, and I don’t think the drivers so much as notice people standing on the sidewalk. My first thought is how scary it would be to have Jackson walking on this sidewalk. It’ll be even worse to have our own kid.
“Yeah?” Quinn tips her pretty face up to look at me.
“I love you.”
I’ve gotten so used to sleeping for just a few hours here and there that sleeping through the night seems weird. Sometimes I wake up in a panic thinking I missed a shift or didn’t hear my phone ring. It’s rare I don’t have to go in for an emergency appendectomy or cholecystectomy on my on-call nights. Pure exhaustion is what helps me sleep through the night, and even then, it still feels weird.
But when I woke up with a start at four a.m., all it took was one look at Quinn to calm my nerves. She said she gets up around eight to be in at work by nine, and will leave around three or four since it’s Friday. As we settled in to sleep last night, she was telling me about some new code she was writing, and another program the company is about to launch.
She gets so excited when she talks about her job. She has good hours, a great work environment, and makes decent money. I can’t blame her if she doesn’t want to cut back on work when Emma is born. She has as much right to work full-time as I do. Still, we need to talk about it.
Instead of closing my eyes and trying to go back to sleep, I sit up and look at Quinn. She’s so fucking beautiful. Careful not to disturb her, I get up and use the bathroom, and then go into the kitchen to get something to drink. The cats all follow me in, meowing loudly.
“I’m not feeding you,” I tell them, flicking my eyes back to Quinn’s room, hoping they don’t wake her up. I open the fridge and pull out the orange juice. I pour myself a glass and go to the window, watching the early morning light bathe the already busy city.
“Arch?” Quinn’s voice comes from behind me. She’s standing in the threshold of her bedroom, blinking her eyes open. She’s wearing a Minnie Mouse t-shirt and black panties. I’m confident in saying she could literally put on anything and I’d find her sexy.
“Did I wake you?”
“No.” She yawns and pulls her arms in around herself. It is a little chilly in here, and her pert nipples are starting to push against the thin fabric of her shirt. “Or maybe? I don’t know. I just woke up and you weren’t there.”
I finish my orange juice and put the glass in the sink. “I’m still on my
work schedule this week. Sleeping for more than four hours in a row is weird.”
She yawns. “You must really like surgery to put up with that schedule.”
“I do. Being a surgical resident is more of a lifestyle than a job,” I tell her seriously. “I won’t always be this busy, I promise.” I wonder if she’s thinking about how hard it’ll be for me to be involved in Emma’s life. If we’re apart, it will be hard. I won’t lie to her or myself. It’s hard enough seeing Quinn for a day at a time.
“Good. You deserve more time to yourself. What’s your schedule like when you get home?”
“I’m on-call this weekend, which means I’ll be in removing infected organs for sure. And then I have shifts Monday through Thursday.”
Quinn takes my hand. “Come back to bed. Sleep while you have the chance.”
“I do get to sleep while you’re at work today.”
“That is true. And I hope you do sleep. I worry about you driving all the way back to Indy.”
I worry too, but I’m not going to tell Quinn that. Though when I do leave, I’ll be well-rested at least. I drank so much coffee on the way here my stomach hurt. But I needed it to stay awake.
We get back into bed, and Quinn snuggles up with her head on my chest.
“Pretty soon I won’t be able to do this,” she says.
“Emma will be in the way.”
“I can still sleep on my back, right? My OB said it’s okay until twenty weeks, but should I stop sooner just in case?”
“Twenty weeks is standard. If it makes you feel better—mentally, I mean—you can stop sooner. You’re not abnormally large or anything, so I’m not worried about pressure on the vena cava—the blood vessel that can get constricted.”
“Okay, good. You’re like my personal walking-talking version of Web MD.”
I laugh. “I glad I spent eight years in college and another six as a resident to be as qualified as Web MD.”
“Well, that was silly. Clearly you only needed a couple of nights to look through that website before you could diagnose anyone complaining of a headache with either the Black Plague or a tumor.”
Laughing again, I kiss the top of her head and run my fingers up and down her arm until she falls back asleep. I start to drift off too, thinking of us living together as a family. The ring her grandmother gave me is in my bag, but since we just told each other we love each other, I think it’s best to wait.
Until the next time we spend a weekend together, that is.
I rest my hand on Quinn’s belly and fall asleep, dreaming about Quinn and Emma. Things start off normal and good like it should be in a dream, but then quickly shifts to weird as fuck. Emma is really a puppy, and I have to go back to med school because it was discovered I somehow missed a class.
“Archer,” Quinn says, waking me up. I blink, shaking off the weirdness but not looking into it too much. Dreams don’t mean shit. She reaches over me and picks up my phone from the nightstand. It’s on silent and vibrates one last time before the call goes to voicemail.
Quinn’s face tightens when she looks at the name on the screen. “It was your mom.”
17
Quinn
Archer doesn’t need to say it for me to know: his mom calling at dawn can’t be a good thing. He sits up and takes the phone from me.
“Are you going to call her back?”
“I will later. You should go back to sleep so you’re not tired. I fucked you hard before we went to bed. Didn’t you say I wore you out?”
He’s trying to lighten the mood, I know. And he really did wear me out. How he functions so well on so little sleep is beyond me. While I appreciate his efforts to downplay this for my sake, I know he shouldn’t.
“Something could be wrong with—”
“I’ll call her later. Lay down and I’ll rub your back.”
“I won’t be able to sleep. Because now I’m worried.”
Archer lets out a sigh. “I didn’t want him to take up any of your time or energy, Quinn.”
“Yeah, but he is and he will. He’s your brother, Archer. He’s messed up and made bad choices, but you said it yourself. He can’t help it and has a disease.”
“It’s not an excuse.”
“I know it’s not. And I don’t want to worry, but I do. I worry for you.”
Archer looks up at me, dark circles under his eyes. This beautiful man needs a break.
“I’m fine.”
“Arch,” I say gently. “You know what I mean. He’s your brother and no matter how mad you are at him, I know you care deep down.”
He nods. “I’ll call her back.”
I adjust my pillow and lean back against the headboard, putting one hand on Archer’s thigh.
“Hey, Mom,” he says into the phone. “Yeah, I was sleeping. It’s okay. What’s—” He pauses for a few seconds. “Again?” His eyes fall shut and he shakes his head. “I’m in Chicago with Quinn. I’ll call Sam and let him know. Thanks. Mom, no. It’s not your fault.”
I swallow hard, not sure if the lump rising in my throat is morning sickness or a sick feeling knowing what Archer and his parents have to go through over and over again.
“Call me if you hear anything.” He hangs up and tosses the phone onto the mattress. “Bobby left rehab again. My mom thought he might come to Indy and see me again.”
“Oh, wow. Is he allowed to do that?”
“Leave rehab?”
“Yeah.”
“It wasn’t court ordered or anything, so yeah, he can leave of his own free will. He needs to go to court ordered rehab,” Archer grumbles. He brings his hands to his head, rubbing his temples and leans back. “It’s fine, Quinn. Please don’t worry. You have enough going on and you don’t need to be stressed.”
“I know,” I say softly. “I care about you, Archer. I love you. Your family is going to be mine too—in a sense I mean. Since Emma will go to family events on your side as well as mine.”
Fuck. I’m making things awkward, which is something I’m good at. I didn’t mean to insinuate that Emma will be at his family events because we’re splitting custody or whatever.
“And I’ll be there too,” I add. And I really do hope I am there with Archer. I’m so in love with him. I can’t imagine ever not being in love with this man.
“Yeah. You’re right.” His eyes fall shut. “I should call Sam and let him know there’s a chance Bobby heads south again.”
I sit up, intending on grabbing Archer’s phone for him. But the sick feeling comes back and I clamp my hand over my mouth, scrambling out of bed just in time to throw up in the toilet. Archer hurries in after me, gathering my hair and holding it out of the way.
“It came out my nose,” I groan, taking the towel Archer hands me. “I’m in the second trimester. Is this ever going to stop?”
“Yes. I’m sure it will.” He smooths my hair back. “There’s barf in your hair. I’ll start the shower.”
“Call Sam first.”
Archer’s face tightens, and he shakes his head. “It can wait. It takes hours to drive down from Michigan to Indy. Bobby doesn’t have money or up-to-date ID to buy plane tickets.”
“Okay.”
Archer pulls me to my feet and starts the shower, getting fresh towels from the linen closet. I rinse out my mouth and strip out of my clothes. I’m up several hours before I need to get up for work, and I know I’ll be tired later. But I can tough it out for Archer.
Archer washes my hair, and while a wash-the-vomit-out-of-your-hair is anything but sexy, there’s a certain intimacy between us right now. I close my eyes and tip my head up, rinsing my hair. We finish showering in silence, and while I’m getting dressed, Archer says he’s going to make breakfast.
I put clean pajamas back on, brush and dry my hair, and go into the kitchen to find Archer sitting on the floor petting the cats. He’s holding a piece of bacon and they’re swarming him, meowing and rubbing against him in hopes for more.
“Eggs and bacon? Y
ou spoil me, Arch.”
He looks up, breaking off another piece of bacon for Luna. “You deserve it. And I’ve never seen cats beg like this.”
“Oh, they’re terrible. Neville wasn’t that bad until he moved in with us. The girls are a bad influence,” I laugh. “They never got over being alley cats, I think. They act like they have to eat everything or they’ll starve to death.”
“They’re definitely not starving.”
“I know.” I pick up Bellatrix. “They’re all fat.”
Archer breaks up the rest of the bacon and gives it to the cats before getting up. He washes his hands and takes our plates, bringing them into the dining room.
“I rarely eat in here,” I tell him. “It’s nice.”
“This whole place is nice. I still can’t get over the view.”
“That’s what sold me on it. And it’s close to work. Can’t beat that.”
“No, you can’t.”
I put another fork full of eggs in my mouth, watching Archer’s face. Now would be a good time to bring up living arrangements post-baby. We’re talking about my apartment after all. I finish chewing and take a drink of water, trying to plan out in my head what I want to say out loud.
Problem is, I don’t really know what I want, other than us being together. The reality of us having separate and opposite careers screams at me. Archer’s worked so hard to get to where he is, and he wants to keep going to further his career. And I’ve busted my ass to rise up in the company I work for, and have to prove myself over and over that I’m just as smart and capable as the men I work with.
Archer likes his job.
I like my job.
But I love him.
One of us is going to have to compromise.
“Are you feeling sick again?” Archer asks, and I realize that I stopped eating.
“No, just tired. And deep in thought.”
Archer picks up the last piece of his bacon. “About what?”
End Game Page 14
