French Wanker - Victoria Pinder Page 0,29
me into a ballroom with sparkling crystal chandeliers and a panoramic view of the Mediterranean as the sun set.
The blue waters were full of light, too, but he walked me to a table near one of the windows and held my chair as another man stood.
“Simon,” Quentin address the man. “This is Kara.”
The men shook hands, and he then shook my hand and then said, “Quentin, this is my wife Bridget.”
He shook the other woman’s hand, and I did the same. We took our seats a minute later, and then Quentin asked, “Where are your children?”
I instantly relaxed. Quentin had said she was American, but she seemed like my oldest sister in her demeaner as Bridget said, “With their grandparents. It’s just adults tonight.”
Quentin dropped his napkin in his chair as he stood and waved at a nicely dressed couple. “Here comes Nigel and Calliope.”
A second later two more people joined us, and we shook hands with a super fit woman and her husband.
“Quentin,” Calliope said, “so glad you’re free of Cecilia. Nice to meet you…”
I swallowed. That wasn’t nice to speak of the dead. I must have misheard. “Kara.”
She smiled. “Where are you from?”
“Pittsburgh,” I said. “I’m in Europe, on vacation.”
The waiter brought some black appetizer I’d never seen. Bridget cleared her throat. “And how did you two meet?”
“By the Eiffel Tower actually,” I said and saw how the men were eating. I slipped my spoon into the jelly-like substance and bit.
Instantly, the taste of fish hit, and movies rushed in my mind. This was caviar. I tried not to cough like in Pretty Woman and swallowed despite the shock.
A minute later, I put my spoon down and realized they were all eating with small forks.
“That sounds romantic.” Bridget sighed. “Why were you there, Quentin?”
He sipped a wine, and I realized the waiter must have poured us all glasses. I picked mine up as he said, “I intended to say goodbye to Paris and wanted a nice view.”
Simon folded his hands on the table. “Quentin, you don’t have to quit.”
He nodded and said, “I absolutely do. I should have been better.”
Calliope added, “We all make mistakes.”
“I killed her,” Quentin said, and I flinched.
“What?” I croaked.
Simon cut in. “No you didn’t. I read the files you sent.”
Files. Doctor. I pieced together that information and realized a case must have gone wrong. And Quentin wasn’t perfect; none of us were.
Quentin shook his head. “Doesn’t matter if I was cleared. It was all me.”
My mind still hadn’t settled. Should I run out the doors now?
My voice came out like a mouse. “Who died?”
The table was quiet until Simon spoke up, addressing Quentin again. “Sometimes you can stop cancer. And that’s not your specialty.”
Cancer. So, this wasn’t some operating mistake. But Quentin took his patients seriously. My mind connected the dots as Quentin said, “I didn’t diagnose properly. The timing was the death sentence.”
Got it. I reached under the table and patted his leg. Mistakes happen to all of us. There had to be a way to separate the personal feelings from the job for mental health.
If he quit over this, he’d hate himself forever.
Simon leaned back for the waiter to clear his plate. “Then I kill people all the time. Even Bridget here would have blood on her hands.”
“I’m a nurse,” she said to me fast.
“I admire what you all do,” I added. “I’m… I was a financial analyst for a wine bottling company. Very boring.”
She smiled at me as Quentin reached under the table and squeezed my palm. “I was so into myself that I missed something obvious.”
I swallowed. “What did you miss?”
“That I wasn’t made to be a doctor. I’m careless and selfish.” He dropped my hand, and I reached for my wine. “So, I’ll move on, grow wine, and get in the family business.”
Simon folded his hands on the table. “Fuck. Quentin, at least you came. Look you don’t have to give up your stethoscope because you made a fucking mistake. We’re human, not miracle men. We’re not supposed to get involved in our cases personally. It clouds our judgment.”
Agreed. Quentin brooded a bit, which seemed to be a reaction to caring. He was an attentive, wonderful lover, and he’d be a perfect husband to someone else.
Someone capable of making smart decisions.
I saw that.
Quentin lowered his head and stared into his wineglass. “Cecilia’s little sister and her family all sued me. I just can’t anymore.”
The ex. The patient wasn’t a stranger. That complicated his life.
Bridget then said like she