by Belle Aurora
***
Quinn
Watching her come was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
My stomach flipped.
I quickly realized I didn’t want another man seeing this.
Not ever.
I wanted it all for myself, forever more. I suddenly knew what I wanted, and I wasn’t scared. Not at all. It felt good. It felt right.
I was going to ask Mia to marry me.
***
Mia
Both panting, we collapsed on our sides, facing each other. Eyes wide, adrenaline flowed through me. I reached out with trembling fingers, running the backs of them along his jaw. He caught my hand and kissed it before holding it to his chest, his racing heartbeat playing at my knuckles.
We stared at each other a long while, neither of us daring to speak a word. Because talk was talk. And we had something more than words.
We had love.
“Mia,” Quinn whispered a long while after, sounding half asleep.
Near dozing myself, I semi-slurred, “Yes?”
He breathed deep, and then spoke slowly on an exhale, “Will you marry me?”
My heart stuttered. My mind chose that very moment to turn silent.
Then I realized I didn’t need my mind. I listened to the part of me that drove my heart.
I smiled softly into the darkness. “Of course, honey.”
His hand found mine and he squeezed gently. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I responded. “Forever and always, babe.”
And I meant it.
Chapter Forty-Six
Harry
My sister was engaged. She was getting married.
This should’ve been a stupidly happy time for me and my family, yet somehow I’d isolated myself, drowning in a pit of despair that I’d dug myself into. I loved my sister. She was one of the two people I trusted most in this world. The other, she was marrying.
How had this happened? How had I let this go so far?
What scared me most was that with each day that passed, I could pretend I didn’t need Mia or Quinn in my life. What was worse? I was starting to believe that bullshit. Truth was, I was jealous. In a number of ways.
Quinn was my friend, the first real friend I’d had in years. He was one of the only people I could talk to about anything at all and not be judged. He was my friend. Part of me felt as though Mia had stolen him from me.
Also, Mia was my sister. There was a code, and Quinn broke that code. I understood that what happened between them was Mia’s doing, but still…I couldn’t ever talk to Quinn about sex anymore, because all of his current examples would be using my sister, and picturing my sister having sex…ugh.
No. Just…no.
The other thing was that I was jealous of what they had. Quitting the trade had never even been a thing for Quinn. The thought of losing Mia was enough to scare the shit out of him and find a normal job, and he did this happily. He’d changed his life for her in a heartbeat. And, once upon a time, I had something like that.
I wondered why Quinn got his happily ever after so easily, while the woman I loved left me just as effortlessly. Sure, I was an escort paid to be with her, but we fell in love. It was mutual. I knew what we had; time hadn’t distorted my memories. Yes, it was unconventional, but it worked for Mia and Quinn. I would have changed for her, given the opportunity, but she never even gave me the chance. She cancelled her time with me and cut me out without a backward glance.
Okay. I was making excuses. Why not call a spade a spade?
I was bitter.
There it was.
The thought of love made me nauseous. And my sister did not deserve that.
I walked down the hall, stopped in front of the apartment door, and knocked lightly. I heard soft conversation coming from inside and my gut tightened. No amount of apologizing could excuse what I’d done to my sister. I’d become the bully I had protected her from all those years ago. Shame filled me.
The door opened and Mia, her head turned back behind her, mock-threatened, “Seriously. I’m not even joking right now. Watch it.”
Then I heard Quinn’s, “Ooh, I’m shakin’ in my metaphorical boots.”
Her face turned and she spotted me. The smile fell off her face so quickly that something tore inside me. She blinked then swallowed hard and uttered a soft and uncertain, “H-hi.”
She was anxious. I had made my own sister feel anxious around me. If I weren’t a grown-ass man, the thought would’ve brought me to tears. “Can I come in?”
She hesitated before nodding. “Uh-huh.” Reluctantly, she stepped aside, and I walked inside, my hands firmly fisted into the pockets of my jacket.
Quinn tied the laces on his sneakers and straightened, spotting me. His body turned rigid, protective, as if I were a rabid dog Mia needed shielding from. I had done this. I deserved every ill feeling that passed through me at that moment. “Har,” he greeted guardedly.
I jerked my chin at him in acknowledgement then turned back to Mia, who stood stiff by the kitchen counter. “I need to talk to you.”
Her eyes darted from me to Quinn then back again. “Um, okay.” She turned back to Quinn, her expression unreadable.
Then Quinn stepped over to us. “I was just leaving. Got to pump my guns, if ya know what I mean.” He made his way toward Mia, reached down to cup her cheeks, and then brought his face down to place a long, soft kiss to her lips. Her eyes closed as Quinn brought his lips to her ear and whispered something. She reached up, placing her hands over his at her cheeks and nodded.
It was clear as day. They loved each other. There was no mistaking it. My mouth opened and I rushed out, “Can you stay a sec? What I need to say, both of you need to hear.”
Quinn’s brow narrowed at me, posture defensive. His arm came around Mia and he pulled her into his side. “All right. Go ahead.”
The spotlight was on me. And suddenly, words vanished. I stood there, blinking over at them, biting the inside of my cheek, my fingers twitching. Frustration caused my eyes to shut tightly and I sighed. Then, I paced. “You know, sometimes you do or say things that you wish you n…”
Oh, how cliché. Come on, Har. You can do better than this.
I stopped mid-step and tried again. “Mia’s my sister, Quinn. And you…”
…stepped in where you weren’t needed?
Are you fucking serious, man? Just say what you need to say.
I breathed deeply and spoke the words calmly, even though my heart was racing. I spoke to Quinn first. “I said some things to you that I didn’t mean. I mean, you deserved them, but they weren’t true.” His brows raised, but a faint look of amusement passed his face.
I spoke to Mia next, stepping forward, wanting her to look me in the eye. “You told me you loved Quinn before I even knew it was him. I told you I hoped it would work out between you guys, because…” I paused, lowering my voice to a hush, “…because I could see, even then, that you were in love with this nameless, faceless guy. You deserve to be happy, Mia. I’ve never wanted anything more than for you to be happy.” My throat thickened with emotion. “And I took happiness away from you by the way I reacted to your relationship with Quinn. I made you miserable.”
She swallowed as she blinked back tears.
My heart broke.
I reached out and took her small hand from her side, holding it between both of mine. “I am so sorry, Minnie.” I closed my eyes and forced out the words. “I love you and hope that you can forgive a stubborn asshole for not supporting you when you needed it most.”
A sniffle sounded, then she flung herself at me, her arms cinching around my waist like a vise. Her tears stained the front of my shirt, but I didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around her and held her as though it would be the very last time.
She cried, and cried, until finally, she pulled back and punched me right in the gut. My breath left me in a whoosh, and she yelled a broken, “You are an asshole!” Then she pulled me back in fo
r another hug, part wailing, part laughing.
Quinn looked down at Mia and muttered out the side of his mouth, “So that’s why they call it ugly-crying.”
Mia laughed in outrage, swiping away tears, elbowing Quinn in the ribs. “You’re an asshole, too.”
I smiled at them, relief releasing all the pent-up tension in my shoulders. I kept my eyes on Quinn. “We good?”
“Depends,” he stated slyly.
My eyes narrowed. “On what?”
“On if you’re going to be the best man at our wedding,” he challenged.
I sniffed a laugh, half relieved. “Yeah, man. I think I can do that.”
He held out his hand and I took it immediately, pulling him in for a man-hug. We slapped each other on the back, and I uttered, “Congratulations, guys. I’m happy for you. Really.”
“Thanks, man,” Quinn responded, while Mia simply smiled.
I pulled back and faced Quinn. “You forgive me enough to help me with something?”
His brow rose. “Asking favors already? Shit. I knew something was up.” He sighed melodramatically. “What do you need?”
“Help me get back into shape.”
Mia looked over me and stated, “You’re in great shape, Har.”
I leaned my hip on the counter and explained, “Well, there’s this job I’m applying for that requires you to be in peak physical condition.”
Quinn shot me a look of confusion. “What job?”
I fought my grin. “I want to be a cop.”
Mia gasped loudly, looking from Quinn to me and clapping. “Oh, yay!”
“No shit,” Quinn beamed. “You and me, cops?” He shook his head, smiling hard. “Shit, we’re gonna be just like Turner and Hooch.”
“Hooch was a dog, dipshit.” I chuckled as I rolled my eyes.
Quinn nodded. “I know.” He smirked.
“You’re Hooch.”
Chapter Forty-Seven – Epilogue
Mia
A smiling Quinn took my hand and gently pulled me to him. He cradled me, rocking me from side-to-side. I had never felt this brand of happiness before in my life. I was immersed in it, drowning happily, never wanting to come up for air. We slow danced as Ed Sheeran sang thinking out loud.
It was our wedding day, and what was better was that it was Quinn’s birthday. I jokingly named the date and told him if we did it, he’d never forget an anniversary. He laughed as I said this, and then became mildly panicked, begging me to set the date.
We had a small church ceremony, and Father Brady, the same priest who had baptized both my brother and me, named us husband and wife. The only people we invited to join us were Mom, Harry, Terry and Bob, Ella and Mike, and Addison and Nick. We also extended an invitation to Quinn’s mother once I managed to track her down, but she kindly declined, claiming she had no right to attend.
I’d met with the woman who gave birth to my husband and had to admit—I was shocked. For someone as put together as Quinn, I didn’t picture a mature woman living in a trailer, smoking at least two packs a day and drinking whiskey at nine am, as his mother was.
Mama Quinn was a decent lady, but she was rough around the edges.
I’d asked Quinn if he’d like to see her, and he told me quite honestly that he wasn’t ready for that, but would never say never. I sent care packages to her every month, and she repaid me in affection. I quite liked our relationship.
My eyes roamed my husband and I took in his new tux. I smiled at the memory of our argument just the week before.
I pulled a garment bag out of Quinn’s closet. “What’s wrong with this tux? It’s a Ralph Lauren.”
Quinn scowled then mumbled, “It’s my hooker tux. I’m not wearing that tux.”
I rolled my eyes. “So? It probably cost a thousand dollars and looks amazing. Wear this.”
He threw himself back on the bed with a groan. “Mia, I’m not wearing the hooker tux on our wedding day.” I stared at him. After a moment, he raised his head and mock-whispered, “And, by the way, the suit was four grand.” He eyed me good. “What kind of nasty street-walker do you take me for?”
I huffed and looked down at the black suit peeking through the open zipper of the garment bag. “It looks good to me, honey.”
Our disagreement went on for another half-hour until Quinn got up, snatched the garment bag out of my hands, opened the window to his apartment, and threw it out, slamming the window closed again, all the while eyeing me in a way that said, ‘Say something…I dare you.’
My brows rose and I shrugged. “Okay. No hooker tux.” I walked into his laundry to place some of his tees into the washer. “We’ll go suit shopping tomorrow.”
He called out, “Love you,” but it came out muffled, and I just knew he’d placed a pillow over his face.
I chuckled to myself.
Quinn’s new tux was a three-piece and fitted him like a second skin. He wore it like he was born to, and secretly, I was glad he hadn’t worn the hooker tux.
We swayed from side to side, smiling into each other. He pressed a long kiss to my temple and uttered, “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”
I replied, “Only about a hundred times.” I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek to his. “Have I told you how handsome you look today?”
He sighed. “Not enough. Tell me again.” I smacked his stomach and he groaned before claiming, “Hey, I’m fragile. Tell me I’m pretty, dammit!”
I pulled back enough to look into those bright hazel eyes I loved with my heart and very soul.
My stomach flipped as it hit me.
I was now Mia Quinn.
Now, I wasn’t sure that I’d bloomed into the beautiful butterfly Quinn had drunkenly predicted all those years ago, but my life had flourished in a way I’d never thought it could.
I owed it all to Matt Quinn, and we were going to live happily ever after.
THE END
A note from Belle:
Hi there,
Thank you so much for taking the time to read ABOUT LAST NIGHT. I hope you loved Mia and Quinn as much as I do. It would help a great deal if you would please take the time to leave a review :)
Here’s a very small excerpt from AND ANOTHER THING, Harry’s book (no assigned release date as yet).
**********
I looked across the table at the little girl sitting by her mothers side. My mind went blank a moment before it started to do the math.
She was four.
The conversations around us went on, but Grace kept her eyes on me as I watched Faith closely. She looked pale, uneasy.
Faith was four.
My bet was that she was almost five.
A chill went down my spine.
Suddenly, I felt as though I couldn’t take in a single breath. Standing so abruptly that my chair damn near flung back, I absently rubbed at the ache in my chest. “When is her birthday?”
The table went silent around me.
Mia’s brow furrowed and she asked a confused. “Whose birthday, Har?”
My eyes landed on Grace. “When is Faith’s birthday?”
I knew her answer before she even spoke. She stared at me a long moment, petrified, before mumbling a shaky, “February.”
My eyes closed and I let out a harsh laugh. I didn’t need to ask the next question but as my entire life had just imploded, I dared to ask, if not for anything but confirmation. In dead calm, I spoke, “Is she mine?”
The entire table stayed quiet, apart from Terry’s loud gasped, “No!”
All eyes turns on Grace awaiting her answer.
Her response would change my life forever. Eyes shining, she swallowed hard, body trembling and whispered, “Yes, Harry. She’s yours.”
Terry snorted a laugh, mock-whispering, “Well, that’s some Jerry Springer shit right there. Cheers!” before raising his glass then downing his wine in one large gulp.
I stood tall, fury raging through my body, and looked into Grace’s beautiful green eyes. I was livi
d, but somehow managed to hide it. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
My feet took me as far as the parking lot before I started to hyperventilate.
What the fuck just happened?
