Through His Eyes

by Nikki Ash

  Declan makes his presence known, half-asleep and scrubbing his face as he grabs a mug from the cabinet and moves mine to the side so he can make his own coffee. He flew back in yesterday along with my parents and Quinn. Nobody knows that Quinn and me have…fuck…what have we done? What did she do? Are we on a break? Did we break up for good? She gave me back the engagement ring. Does that mean she ended our engagement?

  Grabbing the mug, I take a sip of the black coffee. When I notice Declan is silent too, I ask if everything is okay with him. Better to focus on someone else’s issues instead of my own.

  “I caught Venessa with another guy last night. I wasn’t supposed to return until later in the week, but as you know I changed my flight last minute to get home to her.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but it’s an act. He cares about her.

  “Are you sure it’s what it looked like?”

  “Yeah, unless shoving her tongue down a guy’s throat can somehow be misconstrued.” He takes a spoon out of the drawer, then slams in shut.

  “Quinn ended our engagement last night,” I admit.

  Declan whips his head around to face me. “Are these women fucking possessed?”

  I just shrug a shoulder and chuckle humorlessly.

  “You’re not going to just let her end it, are you?”

  I’ve thought a lot about this since I found the ring last night. “She asked for space, so I’m going to give it to her. I don’t want to. Hell, if it were up to me, I would throw her over my shoulder and lock her in my bedroom.” I laugh without any humor. “Quinn is so fucking insecure, man.” I take a sip of my coffee. “I’ve tried everything to convince her she’s perfect. That I love her. That she’s the one for me. But it feels like with every mole I whack, another one pops up in its place.” I hate this feeling of defeat.

  “What happened to make her end things?”

  “I’m not certain, but I think while we were at the bachelor party, the women were talking. When I got back, she asked if I wanted my own kids.”

  “Have you asked your mom? You know, she was there.”

  I didn’t even think about that. But Declan is right. “I’ll do that. Thanks.”

  On my walk to work, I call my mom and she confirms the women—specifically Shea—were gossiping about how much I love kids and want my own family, but she says Quinn wasn’t in the room, and she wasn’t either during the beginning of the conversation. So maybe she overheard? Or she left before my mom walked in? I want to call Quinn and ask her, but that will go against giving her space. So instead, I go to work and lose myself in tattooing.

  * * *

  On Wednesday I wake up to my phone buzzing. I jump up and snatch it off the nightstand, praying it’s Quinn. Only it’s my mom, who apparently has been shopping. Not wanting her to judge Quinn, in case we get back together, I haven’t told my mom Quinn called off the engagement. There are several pictures of little girl toys. Barbies, a Barbie mansion, tons of dolls and other shit. Under all the images is a message from my mom: Christmas is in three weeks! I would like to meet my granddaughter before then!

  Not having the heart to tell her she may never meet Kinsley, I text back: Ok. Then I get out of bed and repeat everything I did yesterday. Only today, the ache in my chest hurts like a bitch. I consider calling Quinn several times throughout the day, but I don’t do it. Space. She needs space. But fuck if I don’t need her.

  * * *

  On Thursday I call in sick, never leaving my bed except to eat and drink and piss. I’m fucking hurt and pissed at Quinn for doing this shit to us. All I want is to be with her. I turn off my phone and shove it in my drawer so I don’t call or text her.

  * * *

  On Friday I wake up and power my phone back on. It immediately dings with a text from Jax letting me know the new receptionist he just hired has called in sick and Quinn is filling in. He also added he’ll reschedule my appointments today so I don’t have to come in. He didn’t know when he asked her to fill in that we broke up, but since I’m sick I probably won’t be coming in anyway. Without texting him back, I throw my phone to the side and get dressed. Since my car is still in the parking lot, I decide to drive it back to my parents’ place today. I need to get the fuck away from here. Not only am I losing Quinn and her daughter, but now I’m probably going to lose my job. I spend the day working at the distillery, bugging the hell out of Salazar.

  When my mom sees I’m here, she asks me to dinner, and when she invites Quinn and Kinsley, I lose it. It’s probably the liquor talking, since I drank more today than I actually helped, but I end up telling her everything about Quinn and her ex. The emotional and mental abuse she’s endured that have caused her insecurities.

  “What if loving her isn’t enough?”

  “Oh, Lachlan,” she says. “You can’t possibly believe that. The thing about loving someone, being in a relationship, is finding the yin to your yang. When she feels weak, you be her strength. When you’re lost, she’ll be your beacon. When she feels insecure, you lift her up. Love is always enough, but you have to be willing to love even harder during those tough moments. Fight for the both of you when she’s given up.”

  She’s right. Whatever is going on with Quinn, she needs me. Even if things don’t work out, I love her. She’s become my best friend, and I’m not about to let her go through this alone.

  “Thank you, Mom, that’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

  After we eat dinner, I call a cab to go home.

  * * *

  On Saturday I wake up with renewed confidence. I text Jax I’m coming to work before he can text me shit, and then I head out to go to Kinsley’s soccer game. Aware that her game isn’t the place to talk to Quinn, I hang back and watch from a distance. Quinn is sitting on a blanket, surrounded by her family, and even from where I’m standing I can see she’s sad. Her eyes aren’t sparkling, and she has black circles under her lids. Tonight we’re going to talk.

  Needing Kinsley to know I was here, I snap a photo of her kicking the ball into the net and send it to her iPad with a message: Good game!

  Twenty-Six

  Quinn

  It’s been five days since we’ve been back, since I slipped the engagement ring into Lachlan’s pocket and kissed him goodbye. Five days since I told him I needed some space. Since I’ve felt his warm touch, smelled his delicious cologne, listened to his smooth voice. I don’t even feel like I’m living at this point, just merely surviving. Kinsley, of course, doesn’t understand what’s happened. She thought him giving me the ring would mean he would move in and become her daddy. I didn’t have the heart to explain it all to her yet, so when she asked where he was, I omitted the truth and said I wanted to spend some time with her. Thankfully, she accepted that answer.

  I did call a therapist on Tuesday morning, and due to a cancellation, I was able to meet with her the same day. Her name is Fran, and she’s very sweet but also straight forward. I spent the hour explaining my past, and she said she feels it would be best if we meet twice a week at first. I agreed. Honestly, with as many problems as I have, I’m surprised she didn’t suggest we meet five times a week.

  I met with her on Thursday, and we dove right in, head first. We talked about the person I used to be and the person I am now. She asked me to make a T-chart and list all of my qualities. On one side are the qualities before I was with Rick, and on the other side are the qualities after Rick. I noticed as I made the list, many of the qualities from before Rick were close to being added to the list after Rick, but only because they came back after Lachlan. So I added another column: after Lachlan. But then I deleted it…because it’s time I’m responsible for my own qualities. I’m aware I’m not going to change overnight, but I’d like to think this is a good start.

  I’m lost in thought as Kinsley and I walk down Delancey Street toward the Japanese restaurant we agreed to meet everyone at—after Jax assured me Lachlan wouldn’t be there. I didn’t want to go out, but Celeste mentioned going out for hibachi in front of Kinsley at
her soccer game—the first game Lachlan has missed—and I had no valid reason to say no, especially since I’ve been sucking lately at the whole parenting thing and she could use a good meal.

  So when someone calls out my name, I don’t question it, simply turning around to locate the owner of the voice. And that’s when I come face-to-face with the last person I ever hoped to see again. I’m in such shock over who I’m staring at, I completely forget whose hand I’m holding. That is until she asks, “Who’s this?” and I glance down at the who in question. My heart pounds against my ribcage as my past and present collide. I try to think of a way to turn back time, but it’s not possible.

  “I’m Kinsley,” my daughter answers for me, extending her hand to politely shake the woman’s hand. I watch in fear as the woman eyes Kinsley. She’s doing the math in her head, recognizing her bright blue eyes, her button nose, and her lips, the top one slightly fuller than the bottom. Her chocolate brown hair that’s about five shades lighter than my black. She’s putting it all together. I want to run, but I know it will only make matters worse.

  I can tell when it all finally clicks. Her sharp gaze meets mine, and her lips—the top one slightly fuller than the bottom—form into a thin line. Her nostrils flare in anger as she says, “You had my son’s child and never told me.”

  I flinch at her words, but don’t deny it. Jacquelyn Thompson isn’t a dumb woman. She knows that standing right in front of her, is in fact, Rick’s biological daughter.

  “There you guys are!” I hear from behind, breaking me out of my shocked state. Kinsley, having no clue what has just happened, releases my hand and runs over to Jax. Only when I turn around, it’s not Jax she’s running over to. It’s Lachlan.

  “Daddy! You’re here!” she squeals. “I missed you so, so much.” My eyes flit from Jaquelyn to Lachlan and Kinsley. I had no idea she was going to say such a thing, but I should’ve known. She flat out said Lachlan marrying me meant he would be her new daddy, and she’s only six. She doesn’t understand being engaged isn’t the same as actually getting married.

  Lachlan takes her in his arms and kisses her cheek, not correcting her. I knew he wouldn’t. He would never say something to upset her. As I watch everyone talking and laughing, I feel like I’m on the outside, watching a train plowing forward without any working brakes, and I’m the only one who can see the collision that’s about to occur. But I can’t speak. I can’t warn anyone. Who would I warn anyway? I’m the one on the train that’s about to wreck. Just as I finish that thought, Jacquelyn makes her presence known, right in front of everyone.

  “Why is my granddaughter calling that hoodlum Daddy?” She never was one to mince words. “All this time, you’ve had Rick’s baby, and you’ve been hiding her from us, allowing another man to stake his claim on her. How dare you!” Her hand comes up, and I should block her, but I don’t. Instead, I stand in my place as her palm strikes my cheek, and my face whips to the side from the force.

  “Mommy!” Kinsley cries out. Damn it! She saw. “Don’t hurt my mommy!” she screams.

  “What the hell!” Jax yells, stomping over to Jacquelyn. “You better walk away right now before I call the cops on you for attacking my sister.”

  Jacquelyn doesn’t even flinch, her eyes staying locked on me. “You will be hearing from my attorney,” she hisses.

  “For fucking what?” Jase asks. I didn’t even realize he was standing on the other side of me.

  “For keeping my granddaughter away from me,” she says, and I don’t have to hear what she says next to know where she’s going with this. The entire reason why I never told her about Kinsley. “She’s my blood, and I have the right to see her. Six years lost. I will see you in court.” And with those words, my nightmare has come true. She’s going to sue me for visitation, maybe even custody.

  She turns on her heel and walks over to the town car waiting for her, taking one last look at me—or maybe Kinsley—before she slides into the backseat and disappears.

  My chest rises and falls, my breaths quickening. My hand reaches up to my throat. It’s hard to catch my breath. I feel dizzy, lightheaded. The world around me is blurry. I try to speak, but my vocal cords are cut off by the huge lump in my throat. I’m going to pass out. I can feel it. I can’t catch my breath. I turn to my brother, trying to tell him something is wrong, but then everything goes black.

  * * *

  I wake up in my own bed with Lachlan’s arms wrapped around me, and for a brief moment, before I have time to think about everything that is wrong, I feel complete again. Whole. Put together. His head dips down, and he presses a kiss to my forehead. An involuntary whimper escapes my lips, and the tears spill over the sides of my eyes.

  “No, no, no, shh,” he coos. “Don’t cry, baby,” he soothes.

  “How is it I push you away, give you back your ring, and end things with you in the worst way, the cowardly way, and yet you’re right here once again putting me back together?”

  “Because I love you,” he says simply. His words, for some reason, anger me, and I jump out of bed, needing space.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I tell him, standing at the end of my bed. I might be seeing a therapist now, but I’m far from fixed, and nothing between Lachlan and I has changed.

  “There’s nowhere else I should be,” he says, his pierced brow rising in defiance. I take him in for a second, sitting on my bed, in his standard white T-shirt and jeans. He’s sporting his sexy grey beany I love, and his shoes are off, his sock-covered feet stretched out. His arms are now crossed over his chest.

  “We broke up,” I tell him, fully aware I’m choosing to focus on us instead of dealing with the much bigger issue of my ex-mother-in-law.

  “We’re not breaking up,” he says matter-of-factly. “I don’t know what happened when we were in Ireland, but whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”

  “There’s nothing to deal with,” I snap. “I’m about to turn forty and you’re twenty-fucking-seven. We were being delusional thinking we would ever work.”

  “So, we’re back to our age difference again?” he says dryly. “Love knows no age.” He shrugs like he’s already bored of this conversation, and it fuels my fire.

  “You’re wrong!” I shout. “Love does know age, and it knows you have your entire life ahead of you. A chance to fall in love and create a family for yourself. And I love you enough to let you go.” At my words, Lachlan stands and stalks over to me.

  “You’re not fucking letting me go,” he growls.

  “Yes, I am,” I argue. “And what happened earlier is a perfect example of why. You deserve a fresh start. To meet a woman who will give you your own babies and create a loving home with you. You deserve more than a damaged single mom with a vicious ex-mother-in-law and a husband who continues to fuck her over from the grave. You deserve a woman who can give you her entire heart.”

  I slump against the front of my dresser, my vision blurry from the grief dripping down my face. “You deserve more than me.” I shake my head. “And I would be selfish to hold onto you simply because you’re everything I’ve ever wished for. You picked up the pieces of my heart, and when you saw it couldn’t be fixed, you gave me parts of your own to make me whole.” I look up at Lachlan. He’s such a beautiful man on the inside and out. “You give me all of you, and I have nothing to give you in return,” I admit defeatedly.

  I close my eyes to release the built-up fresh tears, and when I open them, Lachlan is standing directly in front of me. His arms cage me in, and his face is only a hairbreadth away from mine. “You give me everything,” he says, his voice low and serious.

  “Shea said you wanted to have your own kids, and she made it seem like that’s why you guys broke up.”

  “Shea and I broke up for a myriad of reasons, but, yes, our last fight was because I said I wanted kids, and she said she didn’t want any,” he admits.

  “You told me you didn’t want any kids.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “Y
ou asked me if I wanted my own, and when I said no, you wouldn’t let me explain.”

  I open up my mouth to speak, but Lachlan places two fingers against my lips. “No, now you’re going to listen. I gave you a few days of space like you asked, but I’m done. Family isn’t blood. Family is heart, and you and Kinsley own mine. When I said I wanted a family to Shea, because neither of us had kids, yes, it meant having our own, but it’s different with us. You have Kinsley, and even though she isn’t my blood, she’s still mine. Many couples can’t conceive. They foster or adopt, and if they can’t do that, they get a goddamned dog. With Shea, I couldn’t imagine having a family with her, but with you, I can see it all. Even if it were only you and me, we would still be a family.”

  “Your mom said she can’t wait to be a grandmother,” I say weakly.

  “Damn right, she can’t wait. She’s already sent me twenty pictures of the gifts she’s bought for Kinsley for Christmas. She’s chomping at the bit to meet her granddaughter, but I told her she has to wait because you need some time.”

  I gasp at his words, warm liquid gushing from my tear ducts. “But…” I don’t even have anything to argue about anymore, but my insecurities can’t stop me from trying. Why is it so damn hard just to let him in? Damn it!

  “But nothing, Quinn. I love you, and you love me, and we’re going to get married, and I’m going to adopt Mini-Q, and maybe we’ll even get a dog. End of story.” He grins. “No, not the end of the story. It’s just the fucking beginning.” And then he lifts me off my feet, and proceeds to show me exactly how the story continues—over and over again.

  Twenty-Seven

  Lachlan

  It’s been three weeks since Quinn and I got back together and she put my ring back on her finger. She’s seeing her therapist twice a week, and yesterday I joined her for a session. It was hard as fuck listening to her talk about her insecurities, but her therapist seems to have her on the right track. I know it’s going to take time for Quinn to finally be able to put her past behind her, but luckily, we have plenty of time.