Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Three (3 page)

“No!” Nola said sharply, more sharply than Quinn had ever heard her say anything. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it.”

“There isn’t,” Quinn agreed, “but you worked really hard to advance, and I’d hate to see you stymied, especially through no fault of your own.”

Nola had been with ARc for years. She’d started in support services and from her first day she’d shown initiative and talent, particularly when she broke past her timidity and verbalized her ideas. At Quinn’s urging she’d gotten an associate’s degree and been hired as a junior designer six months ago, ostensibly to handle computer modeling and drawings. However, some of their colleagues seemed unable to recognize the change in positions, so she was often given menial tasks and had few chances to apply herself. Quinn liked the other woman a lot, and did what she could to help, but knew it was ultimately up to Nola
to take control.

“I know.” Nola’s shoulders slumped again.

“But I’m guessing you didn’t drop by for a lecture.”

Nola smiled. “No. I actually came by about the FreshFast drawings.”

Quinn felt her own shoulders slump. Apparently there was no escape. FreshFast was an international chain of convenience stores focused on produce and healthy options, a project secured by
him
.

Ugh!

But Quinn pushed the thought aside and focused on the woman sitting across from her. “What about them?”

“Well…” Nola’s entire demeanor changed, her mousy shell fading away as she launched into a proposal about how to improve the flow of the stores and make the buildings more environmentally friendly.

“Nola, these are excellent ideas. It’s totally scalable and we can easily incorporate them into designs no matter the location. Good stuff.”

Nola smiled proudly. “So you’ll share it with Rich and the rest of the team?”

“Nope.”

Nola’s face fell.

“But you will.”

Now Nola looked terrified, the confidence and enthusiasm she’d just displayed receding like a wave.

“Oh, I couldn’t…”

“Remember what we talked about. If you want to get ahead, you can’t be afraid to speak up. You might get shot down, but you won’t know unless you try. And there’s no shame in taking credit, Nola. They are good ideas. Fight for them.”

She smiled shyly and nodded. “Okay. I’ll try.”

They talked for another half hour or so and when she left, Quinn felt a little better after having helped someone as kind and smart as Nola. The lift gave her the energy she needed to get into work, and she was startled an hour later when the shrill ring of her office phone rent the air.

“This is Quinn.” She answered in her usual manner, distracted by her work and annoyed at being interrupted after she’d finally managed to focus.

“Hello, Quinn.”

His gravelly
timbre
hit her eardrum, shot straight through her frozen lungs, and settled deep in her gut, triggering, as it always had, undeniable want. Through the hurt, the anger, the betrayal, the want remained and she had to wonder if she’d ever be cured.

“Al-Alexander,” she finally uttered, knowing that she hadn’t fooled him but hoping nonetheless that a passerby would hear the calm, collected Quinn she portrayed at work.

“I was worried you wouldn’t answer,” he said, and she felt a bitter jab of envy at the evenness of his tone. He was obviously unaffected by yesterday’s scene. Hell, he might find the whole the thing amusing for all she knew. Feeble explanations about his… Ugh, she still couldn’t even think the word, not in relation to him and someone else; it was something she had barely processed and wasn’t yet ready to accept. But based on his voice, he was A-OK, just another day in the life for him.

Asshole.

“If I’d known it was you, I likely wouldn’t have.”

“I expected as much,” he said, still irritatingly calm-sounding.

“Well…” she said.

“I’d like to visit Ethan tomorrow.”

For a sliver of a second, well, maybe two, she considered allowing the darkest part of herself free rein, actually considered using her son as a weapon by saying no.

But she couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that, at least not if she wanted to keep whatever self-respect she had left. And she wasn’t too interested in tapping those reserves. Between the fiasco of Alexander finding out about Ethan and then the later fiasco of her finding out about his… Again she shivered at the thought. No, Quinn was feeling quite pathetic enough, thank you very much, and she was in no hurry to add that particular sin to the ever-growing list. Besides, she suspected this was more of a courtesy call. Her world, or what she’d thought was her world, had been ripped asunder, causing her to question almost everything she’d hoped for and believed. But at no point, ever, did she doubt that Alexander would do anything in his considerable power to see Ethan.

“Of course,” she finally said, hoping she’d portrayed a casual, easy vibe, that he wouldn’t sense the turmoil that swirled inside her.

“So tomorrow, then?” he asked, the slight hesitation in his voice the only hint of any apprehension she’d heard during the entire awkward conversation, which couldn’t have been going on for longer than a minute but felt excruciatingly longer.

“Fine. Is there anything else?” she asked, uncaring how impatient she sounded. This needed to be over before she lost it.

“No. Good-bye, Quinn,” he said and hung up.

••••

Unsurprisingly, Alexander’s call had absolutely ruined her day, left her unsettled and unfocused, so around four, she called it quits. It seemed Alexander had a particular knack for ruining her day.

And her life.

It’s nothing less than you deserve
, some cruel part of her brain whispered, and she couldn’t disagree.

As she’d lain awake last night, she couldn’t help but wonder if this whole mess was a punishment, and a well-deserved one, for her own misdeeds.

That thought reemerged as she pulled into her driveway, parked, and began to gather her belongings, going through the motions without much conscious thought.

“Early today, Quinn.” She heard Joe’s voice loud and clear, even though he was on his porch.

“Yeah. I’m a little tired,” she responded, listless, not turning to face him and hoping he’d take the hint. She was not up for conversation.

“Busy day yesterday, huh? Lot of traffic. And I haven’t seen Whatshisface in a while.”

“Hmm-mm,” she responded, still not facing him. Joe clearly had something to say, or even worse, wanted to ask what had happened, but she didn’t have to make it easy.

“Quinn,” Joe said, the tenor of his voice practically forcing her to look at him.

“Yes, Joe. What is it?” she asked, exasperation threading her words.

“It’s happy hour somewhere. Come have a beer. You look like you could use it.”

“Thanks, but no. Like I said, I’m tired and Ethan—”

“Is with your mother, as you know, so you have time and no excuses. Come on, have a drink with a friend, Quinn. There’s time enough for brooding later.”

He was right on that point, and there was no sense rushing into an empty house where between the quiet and the memories, she’d end up feeling worse than she already did.

“You’ve won me over.” She gave him a smile that was probably more like a grimace, but still the best she could muster at the moment, and walked over to his porch.

“Good call,” he said as she entered his house.

His place had a mirror floor plan to hers, but it was much larger and Joe had splurged on upgrades like hardwood and marble. He’d also had the ceilings raised, which made sense, given his height.

“Have a seat. I know you hate beer, but I do have wine if you’d like,” he said as he headed toward his kitchen.

He couldn’t have known it, but the words shredded her heart, reminded her in an instant of that first night with Alexander, the very moment, in fact, that had led to all this. Unbidden, and uncontrollable, first one tear slipped out of her eye and down her cheek, followed by another, then another, until a river of tears streaked her face and landed in great plops on her shirt. She tried to pull them back, regain control, but the harder she fought, the harder she cried and soon, much to her embarrassment, her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs.

“Oh, and I don’t have any of that terrible diet-soda crap you and your friend love so much, but I have juic—Hey, what’s wrong, honey?” Joe asked as he rushed toward her.

Joe’s warm, whispered words washed over her, all the more painful because of the kindness they held.

“I-I…me—Alexander…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he said and he put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close against him.

She leaned into him as she continued to cry and somewhere in the back of her consciousness, she was aware of his kindly whispered words and soothing strokes to her back. They stayed that way for she didn’t know how long, but as the minutes passed, she was increasingly aware of the heavy weight of his arms on her shoulders, the granite wall of his chest against her palms. She hadn’t been this close to another man since Alexander, hadn’t had even the faintest desire to be, and she was struck by how wrong it felt. Sure, Joe was just a friend, a good, honest one at that, and he was only trying to help. But still, in spite of everything, it was Alexander’s comfort she craved, his arms she wanted to be held in. It was a truth so plain she dared not deny it.

But it pissed her the fuck off.

Anger, sharp and sudden as a lightning strike, flashed through her, and she sat up, pulling away from Joe abruptly.

Surprise briefly shone in his gaze, but he quickly covered it.

“Better, I see,” he said.

“Something like that.”

“You want to explain what the hell is going on?”

She didn’t, but she couldn’t accept Joe’s hospitality and leave him wondering.

“Alexander has a wife,” she deadpanned.

Surprise again passed over Joe’s face, but this time it stayed.

“You need me to kick his ass? Just say the word and it’s done.”

She knew he meant it, too, and laughed mirthlessly.

“No, but I reserve the right to change my mind.”

He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but reciprocate.

“Well, it’s a standing offer, but I hope you work it out. He’s not a bad pampered rich dude.”

That last comment earned a genuine laugh.

“Not everyone can be a studly, non-pampered true American hero like you, Joe.”

“Sure. But that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t try.”

Quinn smiled at him and stood.

“I should go.”

She knew a long night of misery awaited but no need to put off the inevitable.

“Okay, but I’m here if you need me.” Joe stood and patted her arm.

“Thanks, Joe. I appreciate it.”

And she really did.

But she needed Alexander.

And she couldn’t have him.

Not anymore.

Chapter Four

It felt strange to knock on the door of the place he’d come to think of as home, but that was what Alexander did. Nothing in the last hellish week, not the anticlimactic confrontation with his parents, not the tense, stilted conversations with Quinn, nothing else so clearly demonstrated his now upside-down world, the open wound that was his life. He waited a moment, pondering his new circumstances before Lily, who held a squirming Ethan, opened the door and invited him in.

“Ah, Quinn, er, had…wor—I can’t even tell that lie. She wasn’t up to seeing you, son,” Lily said as she invited him in, her expression sad.

He’d expected as much, especially with the new pattern they’d fallen into, Alexander making arrangements to see Ethan, Quinn mysteriously occupied when he was around, but still it stung. Deep, or not so deep really, inside, he’d clung to the hope that the days apart had given her some distance, time to see that they could work through this and a willingness to let him explain. Apparently, he’d been mistaken.

“But this one”—Lily’s voice penetrated his thoughts—“couldn’t be happier to see you. Isn’t that right, munchkin?” she said with grandmotherly pride and affection coloring her tone. Then she handed Ethan over.

Alexander wasn’t surprised at the relief he felt to have his son back near him. He always missed the baby fiercely, and separate and apart from whatever happened with him and Quinn, he was comforted by the fact that he’d found Ethan, couldn’t imagine living his life without him. His boy would be loved by both of his parents, and he’d know it.

“Something to drink, Alexander?” Lily asked as he held the baby in one arm and then the other to remove his jacket and sat down on the floor with Ethan. That he was treated like a guest, treated so
formally
, even by someone he’d believed to be his strongest advocate was yet another reminder of how his world had shifted.

“Thank you. Water is fine,” he said.

“I’m so happy to see you, son,” Alexander said in French as Lily returned.