Accidentally Aphrodite - Dakota Cassidy Page 0,56
of the sanctuary yet?”
Wanda giggled wearily. “Nope. But I bet he knows way more than he ever wanted to about male privilege.”
“It’s like she wrote it psalm and verse,” Marty said on a moan.
Quinn sat up and moved to the edge of the couch. “I’m really, really sorry. I knew she’d spoil things because that’s just my mom. It’s why I live in Manhattan in a rundown apartment and she lives in Jersey. We need that bridge to keep me from committing homicide.”
Wanda pulled the pack from her eyes. “You do know it’s not you, don’t you, Quinn? That you’re absolutely not the reason she’s so harsh and critical, right?”
Quinn shrugged. She’d tried for many years to convince herself it wasn’t her, but everything had changed once her father left. “Most of the time, yes. Logically I know her ball-busting has nothing to do with me. In my heart? Not always so much.”
Marty tilted her head and smiled, small lines of exhaustion wreathing her eyes. “Because you want her to find peace and it hurts to know she’s in so much pain. I get that.”
Guilt overwhelmed her. “You guys have done enough. I’d bet you want out of here pronto. So go home to your families. I’ll be all right. And I’ll handle my mother.”
Wanda shook her head. “That’s not how this works, sweetie. We stay for the long haul until we’re comfortable that you’re comfortable and all bad guys or the possibility of bad guys is eliminated. No man-hating mother can scare us off. It’s what we do.”
A commotion in the kitchen led to Archibald’s terse tone. “I believe I’ve told you, madam, I have the roast well under control. It must sit for ten minutes before one slices it. To do otherwise is unseemly!”
“Isn’t that just like a man to—”
“Mom!” Quinn was off the couch and around the corner to the kitchen where a harried Archibald stood, knife in hand.
“You’re finally back,” Helen said, readjusting her turtleneck.
Quinn held on to her patience—tight. “You say that as though I left you with Satan to the seventh level of hell. It’s not like I knew you were dropping in for a visit, Mom. I had plans today.”
“With your gay friend who couldn’t charm a woman if he went to charm school.”
Quinn felt that same old anxiety in the pit of her stomach her mother always stirred up. “Mom, please don’t be so rude. Marty and Wanda showed you a lovely time, and you’re in here harassing Archibald, who, by the way, is cooking you an amazing dinner.”
“Baby, you’re a firework!” Nina sang, gripping Helen’s shoulders and almost lifting her off the floor as she guided her mother out of the kitchen. “C’mon, Mama Bear. It’s time to yank that stick outta your keister and take a breather from your reign as Beatdown Queen. Even queens need a vacay.”
Her mother prepared to protest, but Nina shook her finger in admonishment. “Nuh-uh-uh, Bruiser. This kitchen’s too damn small, even for your mini butt. Now no more squawking. Get a move on, little doggie.” Nina pointed to the living room and Helen actually clamped her mouth shut and listened, letting the vampire lead her out of the kitchen.
Quinn blew out a breath of relief before she glanced at Archibald and Darnell, the latter of whom wiped his face with one of her kitchen towels. “I’m sorry.”
“Lawd ha’ mercy. She’s some kinda tornado wrapped in a hurricane, Miss Quinn,” Darnell said, leaning his elbows on the countertop. “You okay?”
“She’s done this all my life. I’m used to it.”
Archibald smoothed his hair back into place, straightened his suit jacket, and shot her a gaze full of tea and sympathy. “My apologies, Mistress Quinn. I was sharp with your mother, but she’d been quite vocal for over an hour about my roast—”
“And we all know Arch here don’t like nobody finaglin’ with his food, right, Foodie?” Darnell cackled, his large frame shaking with laughter.
Quinn held up her hands and shook her head. “It’s totally understandable. My mother could drive Jesus to drink. I’m sorry she’s been hassling you when you’ve all been so kind to uproot your lives just to make me feel comfortable and help me get through this.”
Darnell wrapped his beefy arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “It ain’t no thang, Miss Quinn. That’s what we’re here for.”
Archibald stared at her for a moment before his eyes became tender. “I simply cannot figure it.”
She rubbed his arm in “Helen Was Here” sympathy. “Figure what,