by Laura Moore
Quinn and Lorelei straightened.
He took the opportunity to compliment Lorelei on the egg dish.
“Thanks. I’m concentrating on eating well today, since I have a feeling Quinn will leave us with way too many brownies. So how about you, Ethan? Are you looking forward to visiting New York?”
He swallowed his mouthful of frittata. “Yeah, I haven’t been there in a while.” His last trip there had been just a few days before his departure for Afghanistan. It included meeting Dara for a drink, the decision to end things between them perfectly amicable; taking the time to see the stunning and sobering exhibit of Mathew Brady’s Civil War photographs at the Metropolitan; and sharing a lunch with Erin Miller, during which she’d told him again how excited she was about the project. Her words had made him feel as if his photographs had the potential to play as important a role as Brady’s had in portraying men in battle. Buoyed by his meeting with Erin, he’d flown to Washington to say goodbye to his parents and then had left for the army base where the military liaison had arranged for him to hitch a ride on a military plane to Kandahar.
“Maybe you guys can sneak away and do something fun on your own,” Lorelei said.
He shook off the memories of those first surreal days at Camp Nathan Smith, the motor of his camera whirring, his eyes burning from the strain of trying to take everything in. “Yeah, that would be good. How about it, Quinn? Want to plan on ditching the wedding festivities for an hour or two with me?”
She straightened in her chair, his question seeming to pierce her previous abstraction. “Yeah, all right.” She nodded, at last enthusiastic about something related to the trip. “But I get to choose the destination.”
Lorelei took a sip of her coffee. With a wince she set the cup back down and poured cream into it until it was a pale caramel color. “What do you want to bet Quinn takes you to visit the NYPD’s new stables? Though I’ve heard they’re really nice.”
“I’ll have to pass on the bet, Lorelei. Luckily, I have no problem with Quinn taking me anyplace she wants to go. Whatever makes you happy,” he said to Quinn with a smile. It was true. He wanted to see her as happy as she’d been before the combined rush of the holidays and the frenzy of the travel preparations dimmed the light in her eyes.
—
Quinn fought the guilt, knowing it would suffocate her otherwise. As her mom had said on Christmas morning after hearing her confess her worry about Ethan, “If you love him, and I can see you do, darling, you have to do what’s best for him. And then it’s up to him, isn’t it?”
True. But holding up the mirror of truth was a lousy and sure-to-be-thankless job.
And now Lorelei had provided the perfect cover for her plan, the final moment when Ethan would have to take a good hard look at what kind of man he really was and decide whether he had the courage to stop hiding away at Silver Creek. Quinn had been obsessing about how to fabricate a plausible reason for him to go off with her and not arouse his suspicion. Thanks to his offer to go wherever she wished, she could present the destination as a surprise. He’d be game, she knew.
Her stomach tightened at the depth of the trust he had in her.
“Do you need help choosing what dresses to bring?”
She started, then glanced over her shoulder at Ethan. He was lying on the bed, legs stretched out, bare feet crossed, hands folded behind his head, a smile playing across his lips.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Ethan gave an amused shake of his head. “Only you’ve been staring into your closet for the past five minutes and haven’t moved a muscle. Don’t you already have the dress for the wedding?”
Thank God he thought she was worried about her wardrobe. Deciding to run with it, she gave a wave of her hand. “Pfft,” she said. “The wedding’s nothing. First of all, we’ll be in New York City. There’ll be dinners, lunches, cocktails, and who knows what in between. And the forecast is for cold, cold, and more cold. Of course I’m stumped about what to pack.” She sighed loudly.
“Quinn, anything you choose to wear, you’re going to look beautiful in. Right now, dressed in your jeans and tee, you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”
Lord, he turned her insides to mush so easily. With their departure a mere eighteen hours away, his kindness was making her feel like the slimiest of traitors. How did other people manage deceit with a loved one? Did they possess some ability to compartmentalize, block out their guilt, or rationalize away the wrong they were inflicting?
A part of her almost wished for the callousness that would involve, because it hurt so much to be with him, kiss him, succumb to the enchantment of his hands and body while knowing that in a matter of days she might lose him.
“I’m pretty sure Mom will kill me if I show up in my jeans to any of those events.”
“Well, then, I vote for the skirt you wore on Thanksgiving. A particular favorite of mine.”
She fought for a grin. “How about you? Are you packed yet?”
“Yup. Took about five minutes.”
“Rub it in, why don’t you?”
His smile spread. “Granted, I’ll have to make a speedy shopping expedition and pick up a couple of suits and some other items when I get to the city. My time at the army base didn’t exactly call for wedding attire.” And with that his smile was gone.
She made a show of selecting the knit burgundy skirt, a fitted cream silk top, and a pair of cigarette-leg black trousers and carried them to the foot of the bed, depositing them next to her open suitcase. “What about your cameras and equipment?” she asked casually with a glance over her shoulder.
“What about them?”
“Are you leaving them here?”
He hesitated a moment too long. “Sure. Why would I bring them with me?”
Even if Quinn hadn’t noticed his hesitation, she certainly would have heard the forced note in his reply.
As if nothing were amiss, she returned to her closet, where she fingered a black cocktail dress she’d worn maybe twice and pulled it out. Already she’d chosen more black than she wore in a year. You’d think she was going to a funeral rather than a wedding to celebrate the love of two fantastic people. On the other hand, the color suited her mood perfectly. A mood that grew bleaker when she forced herself to say, “Why don’t you stow the cases here, where they’ll be extra safe?”
“I’ll bring ’em over today.” The alacrity of his response revealed much.
“You can put them in the study closet. Alfie will watch them like a parrot.”
When he laughed, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling appealingly, she realized it had been way too long since she’d attempted a joke. It made this one, lame as a horse with navicular, seem a freakin’ laugh riot.
But not even Ethan’s mirth could hide the fact that the prospect of being separated from his photography equipment for even five days left him as unhappy as she was at the prospect of leaving her animals. His photography tools and her animals were a vital part of their identities. While Ethan was denying his identity with everything he had, it didn’t make leaving his cameras behind less painful.
At the thought, Quinn’s guilt eased a fraction…only to resettle heavily over her heart as she began figuring out how to get the equipment cases to New York quickly and safely, with Ethan none the wiser.
Her transgressions were mounting, and they hadn’t even reached New York.
THE WALDORF-ASTORIA WAS big—big on marble, big on gold trim, big on mirrors. The grand hotel exuded an air of refined luxury. While Quinn preferred the warmer tones and textures of river stone and timber, along with vistas of rolling pastures and spruce-covered mountains, it was kind of amazing to walk into the soaring, cathedral-like lobby and be greeted by liveried staff and a concierge who offered them flutes of impeccably chilled champagne and congratulated her parents on their son’s upcoming wedding before being whisked up to one of the suites and enveloped by gilded softness. And, as her dad remarked, it was a pleasant and
welcome change to be in a hotel where, should the pipes in any of the glorious bathrooms clog, it would be someone else’s headache.
Quinn’s parents had chosen to stay at the Waldorf not only for its comfort but also for its location. They didn’t want to waste time stuck in crosstown traffic when driving to Queens, where Tess’s parents lived and where the church in which the wedding ceremony would be held was located. Brooklyn and Anna Vecchio’s restaurant was also within easy reach from the midtown hotel.
With so many friends congregating and events and outings planned, they hit the ground running. Ward’s best friend, Brian Nash, and his wife, Carrie—also a good friend—had already arrived. They all met up at the City Winery, a SoHo winery and music club. Reid had bought the tickets for the evening’s concert and must have tipped the manager a small fortune because they were taken directly to a reserved table large enough for the eight of them. The R&B band was great and the wine Mia ordered for them went down easily.
Luckily Ethan had figured out that Quinn’s musical tastes were a little broader than Olivia Newton-John and Lionel Richie. It didn’t stop him from teasing that he knew of a bar where they only played seventies hits that she might prefer.
On the second night, they had dinner with the Casaris and Anna Vecchio’s family as well. Mrs. Casari—Maria—had insisted on inviting all the Knowleses, Mia and Ethan included, to their home. It had been an uncomplicated way for the families to meet before the more formal occasions took place. With the addition of Anna, her boyfriend Lucas, and Anna’s parents, the modest brick house was filled to bursting with bodies and, in very little time, with laughter. And the food prepared by Mrs. Casari and Mrs. Vecchio…well, there’d been enough of it to feed four times as many people.
It was why Quinn had spoken up, asking the livery driver to pull over when they crossed back into Manhattan.
To her parents she said, “Do you mind? I’d like to walk off some of the zillion calories I consumed.”
“Of course not, Quinn honey. You’ll go with her, Ethan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think a walk would do Mia and me good, too, Dad,” Reid said. “You mind if we tag along, sis?”
“The more the merrier.”
The four of them clambered out of the black Escalade while her dad and mom continued on to the hotel. Ward and Tess, who were staying in the Towers portion of the Waldorf for the extra privacy and VIP treatment showered on wedding couples, had remained at the Casaris’ to help clean up. A nightcap with Anna and Lucas was planned.
The night air was biting, in the low thirties, and their breath came out in puffy clouds as they made their way to Park Avenue. Mia and Reid walked ahead of them, their heads almost touching.
When Ethan’s hand found hers, she felt her heart lift. How remarkable to think that she was walking down a New York City street with the man she loved.
“Man, Italians sure can eat,” she said.
“And cook,” Ethan said. “That was the best pasta all’amatriciana I’ve had outside of Italy.”
“Did you try the spaghetti with pesto, green beans, and potatoes? Incredible. I’ll grow all the beans, basil, and potatoes Jeff wants if he’ll make that dish for me back home.”
“Now that we’ve seen how well the madri cook, I’m pretty sure the wedding dinner Anna serves at her trattoria will be extraordinary. I liked her. She’s a spitfire.”
“Yeah, Anna’s great. I love that she’s pulling out all the stops for Tess.”
“They’re funny with their stories of their school days,” Ethan agreed. “I can’t imagine Tess’s childhood was easy.”
She knew he was referring to the sorrow that must have cast a shadow over the Casaris’ home on account of Christopher’s severe autism. When his reactions became impossible to control, Tess’s parents were forced to find a facility that could address his needs.
“It can’t have been easy for any of them. But I guess there’s comfort in knowing Christopher’s in a place where he’s safe and well cared for.”
She looked at Reid, walking a few paces in front of them. Her brother had wrapped his arm around Mia’s waist, drawing her even closer. Their strides matched. Mia had already experienced heartache—losing her mother when she was little more than a toddler, never knowing her father. But should more misfortune or tragedy befall her, Reid would be there for her. Their love, like Ward and Tess’s, like her parents’, would weather life’s storms.
She wanted the same with Ethan.
If only…
“So have you decided where you want to sneak off to—provided we have a free moment?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
She’d finalized the details with Dara Brendel and then called Erin Miller while Ethan was out, picking out his suits and buying accessories. It was Dara who’d suggested she bring Ethan to the gallery the evening of Ward and Tess’s wedding, after the toasts were made, the wedding cake cut, and the dancing grown champagne-silly. The late hour would allow Dara the necessary time to set things up. Quinn had agreed because it gave her the chance to hoard every second she had with Ethan.
She forced a laugh to cover the nervousness. “Never fear, crazy schedule notwithstanding, I’m going to whisk you away when you least expect it. Just be prepared to stop whatever it is you’re doing and come with me.”
He raised her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist where her glove ended. “Your wish is my command. So tell me again, what’s on tomorrow’s agenda?”
“Mia, Carrie, Anna, and I are taking Tess out for some pampering. Pretty much an all-day event. Then we’re taking her to dinner and a show. You’re going to meet up with Ward, Brian, and Reid when the basketball game is over, right?”
Reid had bought courtside seats to see the Lakers play the Knicks.
“Yeah, I’ll have dinner with my parents and then meet the guys at a bar.”
“One of many, no doubt. Reid and Brian are taking their roles of best man and groomsman very seriously.”
“A bar crawl. Haven’t done that in a while.”
“Just make sure Ward gets back in time to make it to the rehearsal or the priest may not let him marry Tess.”
“We’ll carry him if necessary,” Ethan said.
“That’s the spirit. Once the rehearsal’s over, we’re in the homestretch prep-wise.”
“Maybe you and I could steal away then.”
“No—no.” She cleared her throat. “Because then we have the rehearsal dinner with the Casaris, the priest, Anna, Lucas, and Carrie and Brian. Mom and Dad are giving it. They’ve reserved a private room at Per Se. No ducking out of that.”
“At least it’ll be delicious—almost as good as what we had tonight.”
“True, but much more of this eating with no riding or playing tag with Gertrude and the does to work it off and I’ll be busting the seams of my bridesmaid dress.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”
She snorted. “Cheap thrills.”
“The chance to see any part of your body? An exquisite thrill.”
“You must be on a sugar high after that tiramisu. Dear Lord, I can’t believe I went near a dessert. It would be awful if I popped a seam or if anything went wrong on Tess’s big day.” And that was another reason to postpone taking Ethan to Dara Brendel’s Tribeca gallery until after Tess and Ward had cut the cake and perhaps even slipped away from the reception to celebrate in privacy. She didn’t want anything to spoil their special day. “It’s a good thing I love Tess, because I really hate weddings.”
“So what kind of wedding would you want that wouldn’t be an ordeal? Whoa!” he said with a laugh, gripping her hand more tightly and pulling back on it to prevent Quinn from doing a face-plant into the sidewalk. “Careful there.”
“I swear that crack in the sidewalk appeared out of nowhere. What kind of a wedding would I want?” she repeated breathlessly, her mind scrambling. “I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it.”
&nbs
p; She could picture it, though, clear as day.
“Go on, then. Give it a shot.”
“Well, I’d probably choose a field in the summer and just have my closest friends and family as guests,” she said. And there, in front of the small gathering and the minister, she would pledge her love to Ethan. Her heart squeezed with painful yearning. Keep it light. Keep it easy, she told herself. “And I’d have a kick-ass band and everyone would dance. And that would be it.”
“Sounds right. Sounds like you,” he said. Coming to a halt, he gave a gentle tug, reeling her into his arms, and covered her mouth, which had opened in an “Oh!” of surprise.
Their lips were January-cold at first. Quickly the heat of the kiss, as intense as the pounding of their hearts and the straining of their bodies as they pressed closer, burned red-hot.
Pulling back at last, their breaths mingling in a moist cloud, he whispered to her, “In case I haven’t said this, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Quinn. I like the way you make me feel—any time of day, anyplace we are.”
She felt her eyes widen, and the glitter of the city lights on Park Avenue and Forty-Ninth Street grew even brighter. “Oh, Ethan.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and then kissed him again, a frantic mashing of lips that made him laugh even as he responded with a matching desperation.
“Come up to the room with me,” he whispered. “Let me show you how happy you make me.”
NO MATTER HOW often Quinn professed her dislike of weddings and the surrounding hoopla, not once did Ethan observe her exhibiting anything but grace and humor—albeit her own inimitable brand—in setting after setting, social event after social event, as the days leading to Ward and Tess’s big day unfolded.
She hadn’t exaggerated the whirlwind pace that the schedule demanded. Even he, standing at the periphery, was caught up. It put to rest any schemes he entertained to take matters into his own hands and steal Quinn away for a few hours, perhaps take her ice skating at Rockefeller Center or to the top of the Empire State Building to view the city spread like a sparkling silver blanket beneath them.
