French Wanker - Victoria Pinder Page 0,30
solved the problem, “From what I heard, Cecelia never treated you as her one and only, and you both had problems long before the cancer. You have Kara now. And it sounds like if you keep her, she can run your father’s business, and you can follow your passion for helping people.”
They knew way more about him than I did. My shoulders lightened at the idea his relationship was far from perfect—like my past. But my heart twisted for even thinking such things. I sipped my wine, unsure what to say. Their numbers didn’t add up. Quentin and I were a week-long fling. I wasn’t the answer to his prayers.
Even if part of me hoped to be, I wasn’t ready for another relationship.
Calliope didn’t even blink as she asked me, “Are you sick, or do you have any sick siblings you need Quentin to cure?”
If only it was just the physical that mattered. “Not that I’m aware of.”
Bridget patted my back. “See?” she said to Quentin. “You’re in better hands.”
Cold raced down my spine. I wasn’t ready to toss my life away for the unknown. The waiter brought me some sort of chicken dish with lots of sauce that seemed on the small side. Once he finished serving us, I met Quentin’s gaze. “My dad had a heart attack, and my mom pneumonia. I get how hard symptoms can be to spot, and I’m not in your profession at all. We help who we can, but none of us are God.”
Bridget said, “Smart lady.”
We all ate a few bites in silence, but Quentin finished his first. “Did you blame the doctors because of your dad?”
Simon added, “Good question, Quentin.”
They hadn’t caused the problem. “No. They did what they could.”
Then Bridget said, “Quentin, there is a reason we don’t mix business and personal. I take my son to a different doctor than Simon because we need someone professional without going to extremes. Clear heads are best, and none of us are perfect.”
“Maybe,” he said, and we finished our small plates. This wasn’t much but as I sipped my wine, Quentin asked, “Kara, would you like to dance?”
A few older people were on the dance floor. I scooted my chair as he clearly needed a minute to breathe. “Sure. Excuse us.”
As we made it to the dance floor, he took my hands to lead me and I said, “I’m sorry about your recent loss. I didn’t know how much you suffered.”
He held me close, and I could feel his heartbeat next to mine in the same beat. “Doesn’t matter anymore,” he said. “I just needed to breathe sweet air with you.”
While I didn’t understand a word of the song—it was in French—I heard the sadness and the romance. Maybe that was good; soon I’d leave this wonderful man and go back to the real world of mine. Now was all we had.
Chapter 12
Quentin
With Kara in my arms on the dance floor, I smelled her rosy body lotion, and my wanker grew hard.
If I could drag her to a corner of the room and fill myself with her, then maybe breathing would become easier again.
Anything to get her to not hear how I also killed my brother and I was the worst man to spend a life with.
Not that that’s what we promised each other.
That fast fantasy of mine wasn’t going to happen, and my brothers’ friends waited for us at the table.
At the end of the song, my heart was still pumped with adrenaline. I’d dragged Kara here, so she needed to be fully aware of all the unsaid drama. As the second song started, I kept her in my arms and said, “There is something I should have told you before we came here.”
She swallowed. “What?”
I guided her around the room and spoke softly in her ear. “My brother, Blake, died when I was little. Simon and Calliope were his friends, not mine. And they are only here because they feel guilty about my brother not being here.”
Her eyes widened. “So much guilt going on. Is that what they put in the English water?”
My shoulders lost some of their weight they’d been holding as I caressed her back. “Kara, one of the things I love about you is your kindness.”
A cute blush covered her face. “What can I say? I might not be ready to toss my life away for you, but it’s just wrong to feel guilty for what you can’t control.”
Somehow choirs in heaven wouldn’t sound half as pleasant