Yours at Midnight

by Robin Bielman

  “He’s a different person, now, honey.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s always had trouble letting go of grudges, and he hated how close you and Oliver were.”

  “It wasn’t my fault his brother treated him like they were always in competition.”

  “You told him about Max, didn’t you?”

  Lyric shrugged out of her mom’s arm and twisted to face her. “I told him last night. He was furious.” She searched her mom’s eyes. Was she furious too?

  “He has every right to be.”

  Lyric pressed her fingers across her forehead. A killer headache had started. “I know. And I’m sorry, Mom. Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  “You need to fix this. You need to make things right with Quinn. You screwed up big time, Lyric. I adore that boy, and he’s in a lot of pain.”

  “You talked to him?” All day Lyric had wanted to go over and make things right between them, even walked halfway there. But then Max had called after her, his little body chasing her down because he couldn’t find his blanket, and she’d immediately turned around to help him.

  “Today is the anniversary of Oliver’s death.”

  “Oh my God. I forgot.” How could she forget?

  “I think that’s a good thing.” Mom put her hands on her thighs like she was getting ready to stand. “It means you’re thinking about someone else for a change.”

  Someone she hoped to have a future with. “I’m going to talk to Quinn tonight at the party.” Lyric got to her feet.

  Her mom did too, but wavered slightly. “He’s not coming. He’s on a flight home tonight.”

  Lyric dropped back onto the couch. “What?”

  “He’s leaving,” Mom said quietly and tiptoed out without further words.

  Lyric shook. She wrapped her arms around herself, but the shaking didn’t stop. She’d pushed Quinn too far this time.

  It took an hour before she could move off the couch. An hour to comb through her memories once more, until she found what she was looking for. And when she did, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

  Write Quinn a love letter.

  She’d never told him she knew he was her secret admirer. His letters thrilled her and she copied down every word in her diary before sending them back with her rejection. It was selfish, mean, wrong of her to do. A part of her had wished Oliver had sent the letters. The other part of her was glad he hadn’t. When the letters stopped, she couldn’t figure out what she’d done wrong—selfish girl that she was—and that had been the moment she swore to herself never to let Quinn Sobel know how she truly felt about him.

  Until now.

  Dear Quinn,

  You came asking for my forgiveness. Now I’m asking for yours.

  Things between us were always real. More real than I ever let on. You were the one who made me feel things. You were the one who got a reaction out of me. The one I wanted to kiss and hit at the same time.

  Every time I look at Max I see you. I see you so clearly now, and I’ve fallen in love with you all over again.

  Please come to the party tonight so I can tell you in person how much you mean to me.

  Yours,

  Lyric.

  She tied a red ribbon around the note, just like Quinn always had, and headed next door. Tiny drops of rain fell from a bright gray sky, so she tucked the letter under her shirt. A mixture of relief, worry, and excitement pumped through her veins. She hoped she wasn’t too late, that he hadn’t already left for the airport.

  The front door loomed large. She put the letter down on the Happy Holidays doormat, rang the doorbell, and ran.

  Childish. But childhood had led them to now.

  Chapter Ten

  “He’s not coming.” Arms at her sides, Lyric bunched the material of her poodle skirt in her hands and stalked through the crowded house until she got to the soda fountain in the kitchen.

  “I’ll have a chocolate shake, please,” she said to the hired bartender behind the counter. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt, big black bow tie, and soda jerk hat. “And can you spike it with a little Jack Daniels?” Lyric needed both alcohol and ice cream right this minute.

  “What are you talking about? Who’s not coming?” Ella asked. She’d refused to leave Lyric alone for the last hour. Damned older sister. Couldn’t she let Lyric sulk in private?

  The clock hanging on the kitchen wall read eleven thirty. Lyric sucked in her bottom lip. “Easy on the dairy,” she added, ignoring her sister. With Max and the rest of the kids upstairs in the great room with a babysitter there was no reason to go skimpy on the alcohol.

  “Tell me,” Ella insisted, leaning against Lyric in an affectionate but domineering way.

  Lyric grabbed her spiked milkshake with one hand and grabbed her sister’s wrist with the other. “Fine. But not here.”

  She marched to their dad’s office, pausing just for a minute to watch guests in the family room do the limbo and swivel their hips to try and keep hula hoops from hitting the floor. Another group belted out “Rock Around the Clock” in karaoke. The game room kicked ass. Kicked her heart, too, because Quinn wasn’t there to see how much fun everyone was having.

  “If I tell you what’s going on, I don’t want a lecture from you,” Lyric said, sitting at her dad’s desk and flipping on the desk light. She took a sip of her drink and made a face. “Blech.”

  “What did you expect?” Ella asked. She closed the wood framed glass door to the office behind her. “Jack, Ben, and Jerry don’t play well together. Now spill.” She sat in the small leather sofa across from the desk and twisted her hand at her mouth—the old lock and key.

  A signed electric guitar sat against the wall. Framed platinum and gold albums lined the walls. Music awards and acknowledgments sat on the bookshelf beside books and candid photos.

  Lyric took a deep breath. “Last night, I told Quinn that he’s Max’s dad.”

  Ella leaped to her feet. “Holy shit! He is? What did he say? Was he freaked out? Pissed? How could you keep this a secret? Does Mom know?” She slapped her hands on the desk and leaned over. “Did you guys do it again first?”

  “Ella!”

  “What? It’s obvious you two are hot for each other. Always were. But Oliver led you around like a puppy dog, and you kept your hopes up for the wrong brother.”

  Lyric’s head hit the desk.

  “So his not being here is a bad sign I take it?”

  When Lyric didn’t reply or move, Ella continued. “There’s no way Quinn would abandon his son, Lyr, if that’s what you’re worried about. He just needs time to digest the news. I mean, holy shit. When I told Zane he was going to be a daddy he almost had a coronary, and he had nine whole months to get his emotions under control. You can’t expect Quinn to be instantly happy. Especially given the circumstances. He’ll come around, though. He’ll come back to you.”

  Not this time. This time she’d done the unthinkable.

  She lifted her head. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “Tell you what?” Ella stepped around the desk and half-sat on the side of it.

  “That I was wasting my time with Oliver and should have given Quinn a chance. Aren’t big sisters supposed to do that?”

  “They are, but I…” She hesitated and wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly she was someone Lyric didn’t recognize. Gone was the spark in her eyes, the tease in her voice. “I didn’t want you to get together with Quinn.”

  “What? Why?” Lyric swallowed hard.

  Ella dropped her chin and brought a fist to her mouth. For several seconds she didn’t say anything. “Since you’ve shared your big secret, I guess it’s only fair I share mine.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lyric curled her fingers around her dad’s chair and squeezed.

  “Do you remember Kyle?�
��

  “Your high school boyfriend? Of course.”

  Ella lifted her head. “My senior year, I got pregnant.”

  Lyric watched the blood drain from her sister’s face. “Oh my God.” She took her sister’s hand and held it firmly in her own. “But you never—”

  “I lost the baby.”

  “Did Kyle know?” Lyric fell back against her seat, but didn’t let go of her sister’s hand. Ella scooted around the desk.

  “No. I was going to tell him, but then it didn’t matter.”

  “And then you broke up with him.” Lyric remembered how Kyle had come to the house a few times and tried to talk to Ella, but Ella had refused.

  “Yeah. I couldn’t deal with him. He kept asking me what was wrong and I just shut him out. I shut everyone out for a while. I honestly didn’t know what to feel, and Mom and Dad pretty much wanted me under house arrest after that.”

  “They knew?” she asked gently.

  “Yeah.” She slid her hand out of Lyric’s and waved it in the air in dismissal. “So anyway, after that, I wanted to be sure nothing like that happened to you. I knew you were safe with Oliver because he didn’t have any romantic ideas about you. But Quinn? God, how he loved you. And I had a feeling you loved him too, even though you pretended he was your worst enemy. He was so intense and cared so much about you that it freaked me out, and I worried that if you two did get together—”

  “I’d get pregnant.”

  Ella let out a regretful sigh. “Yes. I know it’s ridiculous, but I didn’t want my little sister to go through what I did. Not that you would have. But you know what I mean.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” Lyric met her sister’s concerned gaze, and they both smiled. Quinn had gotten Lyric pregnant after a one-night stand…and she wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

  After a few moments of silence, Lyric wrapped her sister in a tight hug. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Back ‘atcha,” Ella said.

  Lyric pulled away. “Now you better get out of here. It’s almost midnight, and you’ve got a husband to find and kiss.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me?” She ran her hands down her poodle skirt. “I’m going to go find my New Year’s resolution and tell him I want forever.”

  God, she hoped she’d find him. His absence could very well mean he’d hopped on a plane home, but she had to find out for sure. And if he had left, she’d get a flight to New York. A written note, she realized, was not a good enough apology for what she’d done.

  With only minutes until the new year, she quietly wove through the party and raced next door. Outside was unusually quiet, like everything had been put on pause until the stroke of midnight. Thick, misty air coated her skin and by the time she reached Quinn’s door, she was damp. The letter sat exactly where she’d left it.

  Her heart capsized. She bent and picked it up, a tear slid down her cheek.

  Quinn was gone.

  She rang the doorbell anyway. She had to. The same feelings of loss she’d suffered four years ago assaulted her, tore through the barriers she’d put around her heart to protect herself. She pressed the ringer over and over again, willing things to be different this time.

  When Quinn didn’t answer, she had no one to blame but herself. Max flitted through her mind. The way he’d taken to Quinn. The way his arms had wrapped around him so easily. Would he ask her about him tomorrow? What would she say if he did? She’d really messed things up, and wasn’t sure she could ever put them back together now. Not if Quinn shut her out.

  She turned to go just as the door swung open.

  “Lyric? What the hell? Is everything okay?” Quinn asked, his tone a mixture of disdain and concern. He leaned against the door jamb. Sweatpants hung low on his hips, a wrinkled T-shirt covered his torso. His hair was mussed. His eyes were sleepy. He was, without a doubt, the sexiest man she’d ever seen. She’d never been happier to see someone. She craved him more than she craved her next breath.

  And he was still here.

  “Lyric?”

  “What? Sorry.” She ran a hand down her hair. “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything is much better now.”

  “You rang the doorbell like it was an emergency. Your family is okay?”

  Her stomach clenched. He said “your family” like he was no part of it. Like he hadn’t grown up next door and shared their lives for the past twenty years. “Yes.”

  “What are you doing here, then?”

  “I was hoping to talk to you.”

  He shut his eyes and took a steadying breath. “Okay.” He made no move to invite her in, though.

  She swallowed the pain and gathered every ounce of strength she had. She needed to convince him to give them a chance.

  “I came to apologize. To tell you I’m so, so sorry. I know that’s not enough. I know I’ve stolen precious years with your son from you. But I want to make it up to you. I want Max to know you. To know who you are. To have hundreds of more play dates at the park. I want you teach him Spanish and French and Japanese.”

  Quinn lifted his dark gaze to hers.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you. Not just yesterday, but for all the times I treated you as the enemy when you were anything but. I liked having you as an adversary. I liked it more than I liked being friends with your brother. Because you made me feel so many wonderful things.”

  His relaxed posture straightened. He stepped further outside the door and took in every inch of her, from her bobby socks, to her poodle skirt, to her tight, off-the-shoulder top. Then he locked those twin pools of fathomless bronze on her and her entire being quivered.

  “Really?” he asked, his tone interested now.

  The riot in her chest calmed. Lyric wanted him closer, so she took a step forward. If she reached out, she’d be able to lay her palm on his chest. She waited. “Really. You were the guy I loved to hate. You made my life interesting. Sometimes I really did hate you, but I think I’ve figured out that those kinds of feelings are closely linked to other kinds of feelings. Feelings I was afraid to admit to.”

  He continued to stare at her, and she watched the storm that had raged in his eyes dissipate to heat. Desire. For her. “Go on,” he prompted.

  With the way he looked at her, she’d go on all night if he wanted. If that’s what it took to get his forgiveness.

  “Watching you with my family and with Max these past few days has made me realize how selfish I’ve been. I should have told you that I was pregnant right away. It kills me that I’ve lived the past four years without you. That…” her breath hitched, “that Max has lived without his dad. I haven’t only hurt you, and I’m so, so sorry for all of it.” She handed him her letter. “Here.”

  She couldn’t get any more words out without crying, and didn’t want to use tears to get Quinn to forgive her. She cleared her throat and blinked away the moisture.

  Quinn slowly opened the letter. He took his time reading it.

  “I knew all those love letters I got in the mailbox were from you, and I wanted to reciprocate,” she managed to whisper.

  A smile, sexy and real, spread across his face. He lifted his head. Her heart doubled over.

  In the distance, the faint celebration of partygoers counting down to midnight sounded. Quinn darted a quick glance in the direction of her house.

  “Ten, nine, eight…”

  Lyric looked at Quinn’s lips. He looked back at hers. She took the initiative and didn’t give him a chance to escape. She pushed him up against the door, said “happy New Year,” and kissed him.

  He kissed her back without hesitation. His hot, delicious mouth took hers. His tongue slid against her teeth, then deeper, and she surrendered to anything and everything he wanted to give her. God, he kissed amazing. With the right pressure, the right moves, the right familiarity that inf
lamed her insides with urges only he could satisfy.

  She told herself not to read too much into this. To enjoy what he offered right now. The way he turned her on, the way he seemed to need her as much as she needed him, should be enough. But her heart was too invested now, and if this didn’t lead to something more, she couldn’t go through with it.

  No matter how good it felt.

  The tooting of horns and other noise-makers floated to the doorstep. It was a new year. A chance for a new beginning.

  “Hang on,” she breathed, her hands keeping to his chest so he stayed where she wanted him. “You haven’t said anything, and I need to know what’s going on here.”

  He dropped his forehead to hers. His breath faltered; she didn’t dare move. “Thanks,” he whispered.

  “For?”

  “For coming over. For…”

  Her heart pounded. “Yes?”

  “Apology accepted, Lyric.” He lifted his head and scorched her with a look of appreciation so genuine that her legs wobbled.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, sinking against him. “Really?”

  “If I didn’t, what kind of man would that make me? And I want to be the kind of man you deserve.”

  “Oh, Quinn. You are exactly what I need. What I want.”

  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

  “I think I do.”

  “I want you. Right. Now.” He put one arm around her waist while the other went around her shoulders. He traced his fingers along the back of her neck.

  “Yes.”

  He captured her mouth in a searing, toe-curling kiss that obliterated any doubts about where she belonged. He touched her with delicious strokes, his hard body fitting against her soft one like they’d been painted into a one-of-a-kind piece of artwork.

  The kiss deepened. She ran her fingers through his hair and lost herself in him. When he started to slide her blouse down her arm, though, she pulled back. “I think you should invite me in.”