He laughed softly but there was little humor in it. “I don’t know what’s going to happen after this and I’m probably going to be dumping a shit ton more on your shoulders that you don’t deserve.”
Crissy turned to kiss his palm. “I’m a big girl, Quinn. I can handle it.”
He opened his eyes and pulled back to look at her. Crissy’s breath hitched in her throat as an icy finger of dread trailed down her spine. There was something there in his eyes that she couldn’t put her finger on, something that made her stomach squirm into a thousand knots.
“I didn’t sleep much last night,” Quinn said. Every word was slow and careful and deliberate, measured and weighed before he placed it in the miniscule space between them. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and then Shannon’s visit on top of everything else…”
He trailed off, uncertain. Crissy curled her fingers over his hand at her cheek.
“I’m right here,” she said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he whispered.
Crissy went still. He couldn’t mean…no. He couldn’t possibly mean that and she pushed the thought away immediately, willed herself to stay calm, stay focused.
“What are you saying?” she said.
“I can’t face another fire like that.”
Finally, Crissy sucked in a shaky breath and released it again.
“You don’t want to work at the fire department anymore?” she said softly, a slight tremble in her voice, both of guilt and relief at the same time. Relief that he wasn’t saying what she briefly, horrifically thought he was saying, and then guilt for feeling relief when he was obviously so torn over his admission.
“It’s the only thing that never changed in my life,” Quinn said. “It was always a constant. When things were bad with Dad, I knew there would always be a fire to fight, to get out that pent up aggression over him. When Megan cried herself to sleep at night and I knew I couldn’t comfort her because there was no way in hell she’d allow it, I took it out on myself, training harder, pushing harder. That’s how I’ve always coped with things, Crissy, and I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“You don’t have to make that decision right now, Quinn,” she said. “There are still weeks of recovery left to go. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
“I know but…when that fire came down the ravine like a wild thing, when I felt it…” He stopped and shook his head. “All I could think was that I didn’t want to die and leave you and Megan and Mom and the kids. I promised myself I wouldn’t leave again and it almost happened anyway.”
“But you’re still here. You’re alive. And there are four nieces and nephews who are eagerly waiting to get sugared up so you can chase after them.”
Quinn laughed, a gentle rumble deep in his chest despite the slight wheeze he couldn’t quite hide. Even weeks later, his breathing wasn’t back to normal and it worried at her.
“I need something safe,” he said. “I need to be here for you.”
“Well I’ve got a brand new bakery that’s about to open. I could use some help.”
“Are you sure I wouldn’t crowd your territory? Step on your toes? You might get sick of me if we worked together and lived together and…”
“We’re not sick of each other yet.”
He smiled as she reached up and brushed her knuckles along his jawline. Then his smile faltered and he curled his hand over hers, his thumb resting in her palm.
“What do you want, Quinn?” Crissy said.
“You,” he said, soft and quiet without a moment of hesitation. “When you smile and your whole face lights up. Or when you smell like vanilla and sugar after baking in the kitchen all day. It’s always been you, Crissy.”
“You’ve always had me, Quinn. Every bit of me. But you’re still not telling me everything. I can see it all over your face.”
His hand strayed to the bandage at his neck, scratching idly. “I may never be a hundred percent, sweetheart. I still can’t catch my breath sometimes. I feel like part of me was burned away in that fire and I’ll never be…normal again.”
“What matters to me is that you’re alive.” She took her face in his hands and looked him right in the eye. “Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Quinn.”
He studied her for nearly a minute in silence before the corner of his mouth tipped up and she could have sworn there was a teasing lilt to his voice when he spoke.
“That sounds an awful lot like a marriage proposal.”
A smile blossomed across her face. “Maybe it is. Have to make sure you won’t forget it this time.”
“Then I’ll say yes,” he said, sliding an arm around her waist and resting his forehead against hers.
She tipped her chin up to kiss him, laughing into his mouth, a wet mess of deliriousness. And when Crissy broke away to finally catch a lungful of air, it was there, spilling out, and there was no tremble, no falter.
“I love you,” she said, smooth and steady and easy, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if she had never hesitated to think it, let alone say it, ever before in her life.
Quinn drew back, surprised. “You…you said it.”
Her hand strayed from his cheek to rest against his heart, his pulse galloping beneath her palm. Now that it had finally passed her lips, she couldn’t stop repeating it, over and over.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she said, the words so, so sweet on her tongue.
EPILOGUE
“No peeking,” Quinn said, the broad expanse of his palms covering Crissy’s eyes.
“I’m not peeking,” Crissy said. “But you better not make me trip.”
“I know, I know. I’ll be sleeping on the couch for a week and you won’t let me touch anything you bake. Believe me, I have no interest in experiencing that kind of torture.”
“Where are we going anyway? I have a strudel in the oven. I don’t want it to burn.”
“It won’t burn. We’re just stepping outside for a minute. Now would you stop wiggling?”
Crissy waved her outstretched arms in front of her. As Quinn pushed open the door with one foot without removing his hands from her eyes, a blast of ice cold hit her face and she recoiled. She ducked her nose into the collar of her coat and Quinn shuffled a little closer, his breath warm against the back of her neck.
“I smell food,” she said.
“You always smell food. And we’re literally two steps outside of the bakery. Of course you smell food.”
A pause.
“Are we there yet?”
“No,” Quinn said with a laugh.
“How about now?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there. Just trust me.”
She curled her fingers over his wrist. “I do trust you. But hurry up. I’m getting impatient.”
“Pretty sure you’re already there, sweetheart,” he said as his hands slid away from her eyes.
Resting above the bakery was her brand new sign in big bold letters, proclaiming, “Sugar & Spice.” It wasn’t the title she had in mind for so many years but this wasn’t just her dream anymore. It was Amy’s dream and Quinn’s dream just as much as it was hers. They had all worked to make this come true and it was only right that they agreed on a title together.
“The guys finally finished putting it up this morning while you were busy baking,” he said.
“Is that what all that noise was and you wouldn’t let me look?”
“It was a surprise! You can’t look at surprises when they’re in the process.”
Crissy smiled up at Quinn, sliding her arms into his jacket. “It’s perfect. Just in time for opening day too.”
He ducked his head with a quick, chilled kiss before he pulled her arm through the crook of his elbow and tugged her towards the door again.
“All right, that’s enough,” he said. “You are freezing.”
He pushed open the door to the pleasant hum of the bakery.
After Quinn’s stay at the hospital, Crissy had postponed opening day for a few months until December to make sure he could handle being on his feet all day while he worked. She still caught him coughing very once in a while or scratching at his neck where the livid red scars crept out of his shirt collar and snaked down his arm. Otherwise, he was moving, he was smiling…and he was laughing. That’s all she ever wanted.
Despite the fact that the official opening day wasn’t until tomorrow, a few customers from the fire department had already sifted through her doors somehow, huddled around tables with coffee and fresh pastries.
Quinn took her coat and hung it up as Crissy returned to the kitchen to fetch the strudel out of the oven and set it aside to cool. Amy bounced by, a bundle of blankets tucked in one arm, two coffee mugs balanced in her hand.
“Hey auntie, Cristina 2.0 has been fed and she’s ready for a nap,” she said. “If you could work your magic, sugar, that would be great.”
Crissy accepted the sleeping baby, skimming the back of one finger over the baby’s soft cheek. Within a minute, Cristina’s eyes drifted closed and she fell asleep, lightly gripping Crissy’s finger.
Quinn ducked into the kitchen with a kiss to the top of her head. She scooped up a bite of the strudel and held it up to him.
“Taste,” she said. “You haven’t eaten all morning.”
His hand settled at the small of her back as he accepted the bite. “Thank you, sweetheart. Hey, where did you put those cinnamon rolls you promised Megan? She just showed up with the whole brood in tow and it’s like swimming with piranhas. They’re about to chew through everything in sight.”
Without looking up from the baby, Crissy dipped her head towards the glass dish on the counter, tucked behind the cooling rack.
“Iced and ready to go. The whole pan is for her.”
“Oh god,” Quinn groaned. “Those kids are going to be bouncing off the walls.”
Crissy laughed softly. “I’ll be sure to tell Megan you’re free to babysit later.”
“Sweetheart, you’re adorable and I love you very much but please don’t do that to me.”
She smiled and patted his shoulder. “I won’t tell her. I’ll just drop subtle hints instead. Are you ready for a coffee break?”
“Let me get this sugar rush to the kids, and refill Pete’s coffee and I’ll be there in a minute.”
After he left, she poured two cups of coffee and carefully carried them out to her favorite table, tucked in the corner by the window. There were a few surviving scrapbook pages framed and hanging on the wall here, remnants of memories become real, tangible beneath her fingertips.
After a minute or two, Quinn slid into the booth next to her with a kiss to her hair.
“Is Andrea still planning to come for the opening tomorrow?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s the first time we’ve been together since she started visiting a therapist twice a week so we’ll see how it goes. Kenneth will be here too by the way. Apparently he was upset that Andrea didn’t save any eclairs for him. She ate them all before she got home.”
Quinn shook his head. “Poor guy.”
He inched a little closer and peeled a corner of the blanket aside to look at sleeping Cristina.
“You need a dozen,” he whispered.
“How about just one for now?”
He brushed his thumb over her chin. “Sounds good to me.”
Crissy tucked herself tighter against the warmth of his side. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”
He squinted at her, wary. “That sounds like a trick question.”
She nosed along his jawline with tiny, butterfly soft kisses until she reached his ear.
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, hushed with reverence, breathless with excitement.
Quinn froze for a moment before he pulled back, his hand coming to rest against her cheek.
“You’re…certain? I mean…” His voice cracked and he trailed off.
She bit her lip and nodded but she couldn’t stop the smile that grew so wide, her cheeks ached. He laughed as he took her face in his hands and kissed her, once, twice, three times, until little Cristina whimpered in Crissy’s arms. Quinn retreated, one hand settling on top of Cristina’s head while his other hand cupped the back of Crissy’s neck, his thumb nestled in the hollow below her ear. His eyes were so blindingly bright, she thought he would come apart at the seams with how happy he was.
“It’s still early though,” she said. “So I’d like to keep it quiet for now.”
“Does Amy know?”
Crissy opened her mouth then snapped it shut with a look. He rolled his eyes.
“Yeah,” he said, “forget that. Stupid question anyway.”
He kissed the back of her hand, his thumb skimming the inside of her wrist as he watched her.
“Are you happy?” he whispered. “Is this what you want?”
“It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
Crissy shifted to lean back against him. Quinn’s chin brushed the top of her head as he wrapped his arms around her, warm and solid and protective as always.
Together, they watched the first snowflakes drift down to nestle up against the slick heat of the windows and the faint scent of cinnamon mingled with sugar in the air.
About the Author
Charlotte French is a romance writer across a wide variety of genres, sometimes with a happy ending, other times not so much. Outside of writing, she loves baking desserts with too much chocolate and adopting cats for her crazy cat lady starter kit. Find out more about her writing at charlottefrenchbooks.weebly.com
Sugar And Spice (Holidays: Valentine) Page 34
