Read Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Two Online

Authors: Lydia Rowan

Tags: #Contemporary Interracial Romance

Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Two (6 page)

BOOK: Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Two
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“Then let me.”

“I’m not convinced, Alexander, but you’re right. It’s a deal. You can stay. Temporarily.”

She stuck out a hand, which he grabbed and shook.

“Deal.”

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

Over the next several weeks, they fell into a routine. She worked from home as much as she could, and her boss Rich didn’t seem to have a problem with it. She suspected Alexander had something to do with that, though she didn’t ask. She knew Ethan’s paternity had been a discussed and unresolved topic around the office and was slightly mortified at what her coworkers might think, but she had bigger fish to fry at the moment, so she just went with it.

And then one day, she realized that sometime while she hadn’t been looking, he’d fully ingrained himself into her and Ethan’s world.

“You didn’t have to come this today, Lily,” Alexander said early one morning as Quinn was getting dressed. She and Verna still came by often, but Alexander was taking more and more of a role everyday and was reluctant to leave Ethan when he had free time. Quinn headed down the stairs but stopped when she heard her mother’s response.

“I know, Alexander, but you said you had a meeting and Quinn is going in this morning, so I wanted to help.”

“Thank you. But the meeting is over the phone and besides, they work for me so I can reschedule if I need to. And I don’t want you to miss bridge club.”

Quinn smiled at the thought of her bridge-obsessed mother having had the chance to rejoin the club she’d had to drop to help Quinn.

“Well…if you’re sure you’re okay…”

“I am. Now go.”

“Okay. Bye, sweetie pie,” she heard her mother say, hopefully to the baby. And then, “It’s rude to eavesdrop, Quinn Elizabeth. Come down and say good-bye.”

Quinn laughed and descend the stairs. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?” she said as she hugged her mother.

“Not in this lifetime.”

“Have fun at bridge. I’ll call you later.”

“All right. Talk to you later, kids, and I hope Linda Jones is there. I owe her for last time,” she said as she headed toward the door, clearly gleeful at the prospect of vengeance.

“Don’t get arrested over a card game, okay, Ma?”

“I make no promises,” she said and closed the door.

Alexander laughed. “It is serious, this bridge game, huh?”

“Oh, of solemn importance,” she said as she moved toward the kitchen, “at least to my mother anyway. I just don’t have the heart to tell her it’s the most boring game on the planet. Like superboring. Like more boring than solitaire. But she loves it for some reason.”

Quinn sighed.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just…I’ve always been appreciative of what she and Verna did—do—for me, how much they help out with Ethan. I guess I just never realized how much it costs them. Verna works more than any human should, and my mom’s retired for God’s sake. She should play bridge whenever she wants, not be stuck cleaning up after me. But they both did it without hesitation or complaint, and I didn’t even really notice. I am officially the worst,” she said as she leaned against the counter.

“Yeah, you are pretty bad.”

She cut him a hard glare. “You don’t have to agree with me, you know.”

“I know, but I’m just saying, you fuc”—he looked over at Ethan, who sat in his bouncy seat, and lowered his voice—“messed up. You’re doing better. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“How Zen of you.”

“Tell me about it. Sometimes, I get so mad at you it takes my breath away, but I’ll get over it eventually. And you won’t ever, ever do anything like that again. So if this whole mess has made you appreciate the people around you more and me being here makes their lives a little easier, then accept the benefit and move on.”

Reaching up, she laid the back of her palm across his forehead and then slid her hand down his face to cup his cheek.

“Well, you don’t have a fever, so you definitely need to lay off the
Dr. Phil
.”

Alexander smiled and turned his head a bit, rubbing his beard-roughened cheek against her palm. Tiny pinpricks of sensation where the hair abraded her palm shot up her arm and almost instantly, memories of the feel of that bristled cheek against her neck, against her breasts, grating her inner thigh filled her mind. The mug she held wobbled in her hand, and Alexander reached out to grab her wrist, the weight of his cheek on her palm and his hand on her wrist, creating twin points of sensation that spiraled through her body and converged at her core, instantly making her pulse with need. He leaned toward her, scraping his cheek down her arm, the combination of his beard and his warm breath leaving goose bumps in their wake. Her brown gaze locked with his, and she could see the swirling emotion, the heat, there. He was going to kiss her. Any second his lips would close over hers, and she’d feel his touch again, not in the anger that had been so prevalent, rather in the passion that had brought them together, that had created a life…

“Your coffee’s getting cold,” he said, lips a hairsbreadth away from hers, his gaze, so alive an instant ago, now unreadable.

She pulled back as if electrocuted.

“Yeah. Um…yeah. I’d planned to go to the office today, but do you need me?”

“No. We have plans,” he said, his eyes lighting up with his smile. “See this?” He pointed to the three-wheeled stroller off in the living room that she hadn’t noticed until now.

“A jogging stroller, right?”

“Yes. It’s lighter and easier to maneuver, so we’re going for a jog.”

A parade of horribles marched through her mind.

“Oh…well, be careful. I mean, don’t crash. And watch out for dogs. Some people are so inconsiderate and don’t leash them like they should. Oh, and make sure he wears a hat. And try to keep him covered but make sure he doesn’t get too hot. And don’t lose the house key I gave you because no one will be here to let you in.”

“Quinn…” he said, drawing out the word.

“Fine, fine. I know you are ‘more than capable of taking care of your son.’ You’ve said it enough anyway.”

He threw her an irritated glare.

“And don’t use my baby to pick up chicks,” she couldn’t help but toss out, half joking, half fearing he would.

“I have no interest in picking up chicks. But if I did, I wouldn’t need a baby to do it as you well know.”

His cocky smirk took some of the sting out of the words, but still, she responded, “Ugh, whatever. I’m going to work. Behave.”

She hugged and kissed Ethan and headed out the door.

••••

“We’re on our own, eh
fils
,” he said as he picked the baby up out of his bouncy seat. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re Montagues. We can take care of ourselves. At least for a few hours,
oui
?

Ethan cooed and giggled, and Alexander took that as agreement. He transferred the baby to his other arm and began laying out what they’d need for the day’s adventure. It struck him that he’d never even
held
a baby until meeting Ethan and now, he was actually good at it. His confidence and strident insistence that he could handle the baby had initially been a little bit of a front. Inside, he’d been terrified, worried about every little thing, afraid that he’d drop the little guy or something.

But he hadn’t. And between Quinn and Lily, he’d gotten a crash course in Baby 101. Some of it still confounded him, like why, for the love of God, did Ethan insist on staying awake when he was sleepy, so instead of sleeping, he was fussy, and a fussy baby was no fun at all. Or the sheer amount of
stuff
a person who weighed thirteen pounds could accumulate. And, although he considered himself a seasoned parent now—he could hear Lily’s light, knowing laugh at that idea—he still hadn’t quiet gotten over the fact that he loved one being so much. Even calling it love felt inadequate; what he felt for Ethan was so much deeper than anything he’d ever experienced before that he didn’t think there was a big enough name, but what he did know was that he’d do absolutely anything for that boy. But to look into eyes so like his own, see the boy smile and reach for him, respond to his voice… It was incredible!

And, despite his anger, he was smart enough to acknowledge that Quinn had a hand in all this. He thought of the women who could have been mother to his children and sent a silent prayer of thanks. The circumstances were less than ideal, and there was hurt, deep and broad, at what she’d done, but he couldn’t imagine having had Ethan with anyone else. Didn’t want to. Her devotion to him was unquestioned, and beyond that, seeing her here, in her home and in her real life, had revealed depths only hinted at during their time in Geneva. He knew she was a good person, if not prone to the occasional colossally bad decision, but what he hadn’t had a chance to see was how strong and true she was. She didn’t slink away and hide, try to push him away and continue to pretend he didn’t exist, even when it would have been easier, and she approached everything, from the mundanity of diaper changes to the grossness of puke cleanup with a can-do attitude that he found infectious. And it had been true what he’d said this morning. She’d looked glum because of the things she relied on others for, seemingly unaware that they did them because they loved her.

And there was, of course, the attraction still shimmering between them. Quinn had tried to ignore it, but he’d seen the longing in her eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking, which no doubt mirrored his own. He’d spent countless hours lying awake debating whether to go her, just down the hall, all alone in her big bed. Had imagined her longing for him, thinking of him as she stroked her silky brown skin. This morning in the kitchen had proven she still desired him. He’d seen it in her dilated pupils, the erratic little pulse at the base of her neck, the way she tilted her lips, as if waiting to receive him…

But he wouldn’t push it; they’d do this on her schedule because he was in no rush. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not without Ethan and not without her.

Satisfied that he’d laid out everything they would need, he now noticed that Ethan had the glassy look in his eye, which meant nap time.

“Come on,
mon ange
. Sleep now, and then we go to the park.”

Alexander jogged up the stairs and laid Ethan in his crib, chuckling when the boy fell asleep before he’d even left the room and went back downstairs. He’d have time for his conference call. He phone rang, and he answered without looking.

“’Allo?”

“Alexander, my son,” Pierre Montague began. Alexander almost hung up. He didn’t have time for this.

“Hi, Papa. I need to call you later. I’m busy,” he said in French. While true, it was more true that he had no interest in what he knew his father wanted to discuss.

“Alexander, it is time to end this charade. You have obligations, responsibilities…family, back here at home. You can’t throw that away for some woman and her—”

“Careful, Papa,” Alexander said in warning. He’d had this conversation with his father and had no interest in having it again. “I am aware of my responsibilities, and I am taking care of them, so stay out of it. And tell Mother to do the same. Understand?”

“Aye, Xander, we only want what’s best for—”

“Then stay out of it. I must go. Au revoir.”

He father exhaled a long sigh, clearly not ready to drop the topic, but he conceded for now.

“We’ll talk later,” his father said and hung up.

Alexander dropped wearily onto the couch, the two-minute conversation with his father having zapped a good chunk of his energy. Despite his father’s worries, he was well aware of the obligations facing him at home, and had no idea how to handle them right now, so he was just going to focus on being with Ethan and Quinn and worry about the rest later.

Resolved, he jumped into the day’s conference call, anxious to get it over with so he could get back to spending time with his son, the person he now loved more than anyone else in the world.

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

Quinn returned home after a grueling but useful workday, happy to see Ethan and, truthfully, happy to see Alexander as well. When she entered and went through the house, she found Ethan in his bouncy chair while Alexander moved about the kitchen, the most amazing smell coming from the pots lined up on the stove.

“Hello, Alexander,” she said and then to Ethan, “How’s my boy?” Cooing laughter was his response.

“Be back in a minute, okay, Alexander?”

He nodded curtly and then went back to his cooking, and then Quinn dropped her computer bag and purse on the table and ran up to her bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, she reemerged after a quick shower and changing into the comfortable loungewear that she loved to sit around the house in. She briefly considered trying to jazz the outfit up a bit, but decided against it. This was co-parenting, not date night.

“I missed you!” she said to Ethan as she picked him up and held him close, inhaling that baby scent she loved so much.

“You didn’t miss me?” Alexander said, and when she looked up, his face was the picture of inquisitive serenity.

BOOK: Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Two
7.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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