Things Happen That Way

by Tinnean

  I sighed. “Mark dealt with it. He wasn’t pleased with Director Gershom’s behavior, and he made that obvious. Please don’t ask me anything else right now.”

  “Fine.” Gregor added a couple of spoonfuls of sugar to his coffee. “I hope Vincent doesn’t fall in. We’ll be late for church, and it’s impossible to find parking around St. Joshua’s.”

  “Well, I didn’t fall in, Novotny.” Mark eased himself onto the remaining chair and stretched out his injured leg. “Whole wheat toast? Well, it’s better than the twigs Quinn made me buy.” He reached for the salt and pepper shakers.

  “Perhaps one day Mark would be interested in going to Mass with us,” Mother said as she picked up a piece of toast and dipped it into an egg.

  Gregor and Mark both started choking, and I raised my coffee cup to hide my grin.

  Chapter 21

  After breakfast, I climbed the stairs while Mark rode the stair lift. “I want to talk to you,” he said when we reached the second floor.

  “What is it?”

  He crooked his finger and limped down the hallway to the spare bedroom.

  “Mark?” I followed him in, startled when he closed the door and backed me up against it.

  “Couple of things. First, Theo and Matheson are getting married. It’s in August, I’m invited, and I want you to come with me.”

  “Mark,” I said softly. “Don’t I always come with you?”

  He tipped up my chin and kissed me. “Ass. Will you be my plus one?”

  “Of course.”

  “Cool. Second—”

  “Just a moment. You know I’ve got my Phillips Exeter reunion coming up in a couple of months. I said I’d go. I’d like you to join me.”

  “Won’t that make things hinky for you at the Company?”

  “Is that the only reason you’re saying no?”

  “I didn’t say no.”

  “Then why are you throwing up roadblocks? Don’t you want to be seen with me at a social function?”

  “Jesus, Quinn, don’t be ridiculous. I just invited you to go to a wedding with me.”

  “With people you know.”

  “Are you kidding? There are going to be about three hundred people attending, and if I know a dozen of them, that will be a lot.”

  I humphed.

  “Look, babe. I just want to be sure you’ve thought this through.”

  “I’ve given this a good deal of thought. You’re the most important man in my life, and I’m not ashamed to show you off.”

  “Okay. But if you change your mind… if you start getting nervous about it, I’ll wear a pair of shades and go as your bodyguard.”

  “No, you’ll wear a tux and I’ll introduce you as my very good friend.”

  “Quinn—”

  “Mark... I won’t change my mind or get nervous about anything.” I shook my head, marveling at the track his thoughts could take. “So that’s settled. What’s the second thing?”

  “You’re sleeping in here tonight.”

  “Your leg?”

  “Let me worry about it. Now strip and get in bed.”

  “But it’s not tonight.”

  “What?”

  “You said I was sleeping here tonight. It’s…” I looked at my watch. “… 8:03 a.m.”

  “Quinn, don’t try my patience.”

  I started to say “Moi?” but his lips cut me off, and I sighed and sank into the kiss. The only thing better than making love with him was making out with him, but finally I drew back, stroked his cheek, and murmured, “We really shouldn’t, Mark. Neither of us has gotten any sleep in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “Speak for yourself. I was having a really sweet dream about riding that ass of yours when your phone call interrupted it.”

  “I apologize for that.”

  “You should.” He licked at my lips, and when I parted them, he slipped his tongue into my mouth and explored and teased, and I wasn’t sure which one of us moaned.

  I wrapped my arms around him, tightening my grip. He tasted of coffee and bacon and… Mark.

  “Ow.”

  “Fuck it! I’m sorry.” I dropped my arms. With the door behind me, I couldn’t back away, otherwise I would have. Mark must have realized that. His scowl was ferocious. “Babe?”

  “I should have blown Anacapri’s fucking head off! And don’t tell me Femme did a decent job of it.”

  “She did.” I studied his upper arm. “Thank God. I was afraid I’d made you bleed.”

  “Well, you didn’t—you just surprised me. And if you plan on going to the hospital later, you’d better get some sleep now. So do what I say and strip.”

  I woke up about six hours later from a deep, dreamless sleep, to find Mark curled around me. “Don’t go yet,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

  “The sooner I go, the sooner I come home. Would you like to go with me?”

  “Hell no. I’ve got better things to do.”

  “Such as?” I rolled out of bed and gathered up the clothes I’d worn to have dinner with DB.

  “I dunno. Catch up on my sleep? Annoy Novotny? Play with the kitten? Jesus. Miss Priss?”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll see you later, then.”

  “Babe?”

  “Yes, Mark?”

  “Stay frosty, okay?”

  “Are you expecting trouble?” What was I saying? He always expected trouble. I went back to him and kissed him. “I will, I promise.”

  “I could get used to this,” he muttered, his voice still as rough as before. He pulled my pillow into his arms, almost cradling it. As if it were me?

  I gazed at him for a long minute. I could get used to this too. We really should talk about the possibility of moving in together. Then I thought of the Company, and sighed. No, even though the WBIS wasn’t likely to fire Mark for having a relationship with me, the odds didn’t look as good where the CIA was concerned.

  I let myself out of his room and padded down the hallway to my room, relieved there was no one to see me in my shorts and socks, looking like a character from a bad porn movie.

  I stuffed the clothes into the hamper, and after a quick shower, I changed into what Mark referred to as Mann casual—a pair of black Dockers and a green Henley, which I hadn’t chosen because it brought out the green in my eyes as Mark liked—and jogged down to the first floor.

  “There you are, sweetheart. Did you get enough sleep?”

  “Enough for the time being, Mother. Would you and Gregor like to go to the hospital with me?”

  “I think not. We don’t want to overwhelm DB. Mark doesn’t feel up to going with you?”

  “He’s catching up on his sleep.”

  “I wonder what happened last night. I know what you told us, but somehow I think there’s more to it than that.” She raised a hand, laughing softly. “No, don’t try to come up with something, Quinton. I’m sure Mark will tell us if he feels we need to know. Now, give DB our best and let him know we’ll see him tomorrow if he’s feeling well enough.”

  “I will.” I took my overcoat from the closet and my car keys from my pocket. “Did you want me to pick up something for dinner?”

  “No, Gregor is planning to make angel hair pasta with peas and prosciutto.”

  “Sounds delicious, but if you need anything, call me. I’ll pick it up on my way home.”

  “All right, sweetheart. Drive carefully.”

  “Yes, Mother.” I kissed her cheek and opened the door. “I’ll see you later.”

  It was after four when I walked into DB’s hospital room carrying a bouquet of get well balloons covered in bright blue Smurfs—while I was on the road, I’d called Carnations and Roses and Orchids, Oh My, a DC florist, and they’d had them ready when I’d stopped to pick them up. All I’d had to do was scrawl my name and Mark’s on the card and pay for them.

  “Hello, DB.”

  “Quinn!” He took one look at the balloons, burst out laughing, but then cradled his side. “Ow. Don’t ma
ke me laugh.”

  I grinned at him and put the balloons on the dresser, where the balloon weight kept them from floating to the ceiling. “How are you feeling?” I looked from DB to the balloons, then nodded in satisfaction. He had an excellent view of them, as well as the huge bouquet of red roses.

  Who had sent my friend red roses?

  “I’ve been better. I don’t want to say my wallet and my cell phone were stolen, but—they are missing.”

  “No they aren’t.” I took the wallet and phone from my pocket and gave them to him.

  “Well, thank God for that. I had acid indigestion thinking of the crapload of stuff I had to replace—driver’s license, gun permit, social security card, access cards, credit cards, insurance cards...”

  “Well, you’re welcome.”

  “And thank God you’re here, too.” He put his wallet and phone into the drawer of his bedside locker. “My mother is driving me crazy.”

  “Oh?” I looked around the room. Other than the patient who was sleeping in the other bed, the room was empty.

  “I told her I was tired. She thinks I’m taking a nap, so she’s gone down to the cafeteria with Kim. I wish you hadn’t had to tell her. Or better still, that she was out in San Fran and unable to get a flight.”

  So did I, although I wasn’t about to tell my friend that. I pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. “I’m not her favorite person.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Quinn. I tried to explain being recruited by the CIA was something I’d always wanted and meeting you was serendipitous, but for some reason, that made her madder. Never mind about her. Wait until you hear what I have to tell you! Uh...” He glanced toward the door. “You didn’t bring you-know-who with you?”

  “No, but I still can if you’d like to meet him.”

  “No!”

  “I’m hurt, DB, and I’m sure Mark would be cut to the quick as well.” I struggled to keep from laughing when he glared at me. “So what’s going on?”

  “You’ll never guess who was here when I woke up!”

  “Your mother?”

  “Ass. No, this was before she got here.”

  “In that case, I have no idea. Who was it?”

  “My ladies! See what they brought me?” He nodded toward the roses. “And the card was so sweet.” He had the most fatuous smile I’d ever seen on his face.

  “Ah?” I had no problem containing my laughter now. They’d been so intent on breaking up with him, I wasn’t sure I could trust them. It was obvious DB thought otherwise: he was so happy—almost giddy—while when he’d spoken of them previously he’d been morose.

  However I looked at this, it wasn’t my affair. I’d keep my mouth shut and be there for DB when… if… the bottom fell out.

  He glanced toward the door again, then lowered his voice. “I want you to be my best man.”

  “Of course, DB. I’m flattered that you’d ask me. But... which one are you marrying? Lyn or Syd?” And wasn’t it going to cause problems with the one he didn’t choose?

  “You knew?” He seemed taken aback.

  “That’s what I do.” I leaned forward and patted his hand. “Never mind. Who is the lucky lady?”

  “They both are!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I have to talk fast. I don’t want my mother to know. Not yet, anyway. She’s really big on traditional marriage. My grandfather wasn’t married to Grandma, and Mom always held it against him,” he explained. “Anyway, as soon as I can get out of this bed, Lyn and Syd and I—and you too—are flying out to Vegas. Once we’re there, Lyn and Syd will get the licenses. The plan is for us to book two separate wedding chapels, and then I’m marrying both of them.”

  “I... see.”

  “Yeah, we talked about it in detail. We’re going to find three matching wedding bands, and each lady will have the engagement ring of her choice. My grandfather left me a trust fund, so I can get them something really nice. Syd’s already got the same last name. Lyn doesn’t have a problem with changing hers, and we’ll move in together. There’s one problem.”

  He only foresaw one? Well, perhaps he was right. People would probably see what they expected to see: a man, his wife, and his sister. I’d hate being in a situation like that, where I’d have to conceal what my lover really was to me.

  I sighed and asked, “What’s the problem?”

  “My place is a matchbox, and theirs isn’t much larger.”

  “You can always buy.”

  “We can, can’t we? Who was that Realtor your godmother knew? Fran something-or-other?”

  “Francesca Dashwood, and she’s moved out to the West Coast. But trust me, DB, you wouldn’t want her. She’d flirt like mad with you, and your ladies would have no choice but to erase her. Look, why don’t you stay where you are while you look around?”

  He stared at me.

  “What? Do I have something on my face?”

  “You aren’t gonna try to talk me out of it. Are you?”

  “No. This is your life, and if it’s what you want, who am I to tell you you’re stuffed full of wild blueberry muffins?”

  “Thank you, Quinn.” He reached across the space between us and gripped my hand. “Thank you.”

  “I am curious as to the sudden turnaround, however. Only last night they were set on ending the relationship, to the point where they actually considered transferring.”

  “Last night they didn’t know I’d been shot. And I have to tell you, bro. If for nothing else, that makes this hole in my side worth it.”

  “All right, David. If you’re sure...?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “You know I’ll always have your six.”

  “I know. I’ve always known I could count on you, Quinn. Uh... there’s one thing more.” He looked into my eyes. “My mother. She wants me to resign.”

  “Are you going to?” That didn’t surprise me. She was a civilian, after all.

  “No. I don’t know. How did you deal with it, Quinn? I nearly piss my pants every time I think about that gun aimed at me.”

  “There’s no reason for you to deal with it. You’re not a field officer, and what happened last night—” Jesus, it was only last night.—“was a fluke. The odds of it happening again are none and none.”

  The tapping of high heels on the tiled floor of the hospital’s corridor drew my attention, and I glanced around as a young woman entered the room. “Davy, Mom’s exhausted. She’s going to the hotel.” Her blonde hair, blue eyes, and the shape of her face made her relationship to DB obvious. She stopped when she saw me. “Oh. Hello. Are you a friend of my brother’s?”

  “Yes.” I rose and stepped toward her, my hand extended. “I’m Quinton Mann.”

  “Oh, my.” She giggled and took my hand. “I’m Kim Cooper.” Her grasp was warm and strong, like her brother’s. “Well, for the next eight months. I’m getting married this Christmas.”

  “DB mentioned it. I hope you and your fiancé will be very happy.”

  “Thank you. Although I have to say I’d be happier if Oliver could grow awesome facial hair like this!” She reached out and stroked my chin, startling me. I stepped back; DB just rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t pay any attention to the brat. As the baby, everyone spoiled her.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She stuck out her tongue at him, and DB crossed his eyes at her. I couldn’t help but be enchanted to see my friend interact with his sister. “I know all about you, Mr. Mann.”

  “Please, call me Quinton. I don’t believe I’d had the pleasure.”

  “Quinton.” She giggled again. “No, we’ve never met, but the driver you sent us spent two hundred miles singing your praises. I thought Mom was going to hit him over the head with her purse. It’s a good thing she isn’t here. Ever since Davy announced he’d accepted a position with the CIA, she hasn’t liked you. I could never understand why.”

  “Yeah, me neither,” DB concurred. “Are you going back to the hote
l also?”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s my big brother.” Kim didn’t seem upset by it. She kissed his cheek. “Don’t give the nice nurses a hard time. Quinton, will I see you again?”

  “Count on it.”

  “Darn. Why do I have to be engaged now?”

  DB burst into laughter, then groaned and hugged his side. “Go away, Kim.”

  “Fine. Mom and I will be back in the morning.” She smiled, waved, and left the room, just as an aide brought in a tray.

  “Mr. Barnes, I have your dinner.” The aide placed the tray on the other patient’s bedside table. “Mr. Cooper, I’ll bring yours right in.”

  “Don’t rush on my account.” DB gave me a disgruntled look. “They’ve got me on a soft diet. Do you have any idea what’s on the menu for dinner? Chicken broth, mashed carrots, boiled fish, and for dessert, applesauce. Oh, and a lousy piece of bread with artificial butter.” I couldn’t help laughing, and his look darkened. “That’s really not funny, Mann.”

  “No, but if you can complain about the food, you have to be doing well.”

  “I guess.”

  The aide came in with his tray. “Here you go. Enjoy, Mr. Cooper.”

  “Thanks.” DB didn’t sound grateful. He peeked at me through his lashes. “Quinn, be a pal?” he wheedled. “Go down to the cafeteria and bring me back a hamburger and fries?”

  “If you want to get out of here and get married, I think you’d better follow your doctor’s orders.”

  He grumbled but let me adjust the bed so he could sit up straighter. I tucked a paper napkin in the collar of his hospital gown, arranged the bedside table over the bed, and removed the covers of each of his plates.

  “Well! Doesn’t this look—” I swallowed a laugh. “Delicious.”

  DB curled his lip at me. “You’re out of your mind, Quinn. Where’s the spoon? God knows I don’t need a fork to eat this slop.”

  I handed him the plastic spoon. “And shall I turn on the television?”

  “Yeah. See if that thing can get CNN. Might as well see what’s happening in the world.” He looked at the contents of his tray, sighed, and dipped his spoon into the clear broth.