on.” I pull her along and wink for Maddi when she watches us with a sad mixture of happiness and pity.
Maddi wasn’t around for the drama four years ago, but she’s gotten the highlights over the years. She’s gotten the pertinent details, but none of the emotion. None of the love and longing.
Quinn shakes beneath my hand, terrified of what she might find when we step back into my living room, but I lead her in anyway. Past my cousins, past a watchful Ben, even past my dad.
I place her by the recliner chair, and look around from one set of eyes to the next. “Everyone. You remember Quinn, right? My mom.” I point to my mom. “My dad.” Then I point to my sister. “You danced with Bean, and you met Mac.”
“Miles?”
In all this time of knowing Quinn, I’m not sure I’ve heard her cry. Tantrums, sure; screaming, yup. But the heartbreaking sobs that tear from her chest now are new.
She escapes my arm and stumbles across the room to my cousin’s fiancé. He stands immediately, ever the gentleman, and opens his arms for her to step into, but she stops and lowers to one knee in front of his daughter. “Lyss? Are you Lyss?”
My cousin’s daughter – my second cousin, I guess that makes her, though she calls me ‘Uncle’ – stands from her place on the couch and meets Quinn with a magnificent smile. “You look beautiful, like in my dreams, Miss Cam.”
“Oh god.” Tears stream along Quinn’s cheek that she hastily tries to swipe away with her shoulder. “Cam isn’t… Cam wasn’t… Oh man.”
“You can call her Miss Quinn.” Miles lowers to the edge of the couch so he’s on their level. “She likes to use that name now.”
“You can call me Cam if you wanna,” Quinn tearfully whispers. “Do you remember me, Lyss? Gosh. How old are you now? You’re so big.”
“I’m almost nine,” she says with a proud smile. “Did you meet Giselle? Isn’t she just regal and perfect?”
“Giselle?” Quinn looks around in a daze, to me, to the mutt wriggling under Bean’s weight, then to Twain, another dog from the same litter. She looks to my Giselle, who sits patiently by the wall with her head held high, and a sense of royalty that only an actual tiara could usurp. “Yeah, I met her. She lives here?”
My niece eagerly nods and pats Twain’s head when he sits close by her. “She’s been living at the estate while Uncle Jamie was out of town, but she likes it here best. Some of the other kids are too noisy for her, so when I’m working, she likes to sit with me in the quiet.”
“When you’re…” Quinn chokes on a cry and a laugh at the same time. “You have a job?”
“I write books!” The girl stands taller, proud, and smiles as my young, brutish cousin steps closer to her. Charlie is my Uncle Jack’s first son, and he’s protective of the little girl who is allergic to damn near everything. “I wrote one for you, Miss Cam.”
“You…” Quinn looks to me, then back to Lyss. “You wrote a book for me?”
“Are you going to live here now? Because I didn’t bring the book with me. Daddy said not to, because we aren’t supposed to overwhelm you.”
Miles sits back a little, and looks around like it’s not a big deal he was talking about Quinn behind her back.
“But if you’re living here, maybe I can come back and visit soon. I’ll bring you the book, and I’ll even—”
“Wait…” Quinn breathes through what I think might be panic. “Do you live here?”
Lyss holds her hands behind her back and shakes her head until her long hair ruffles over her shoulders. “In this house? No. This is your house. But I live at the other house with my mom and dad.”
“Your m—” She stops. Looks around again. But her brain simply cannot compute. “Your mom is here?”
“Not my mom by blood.” Lyss reaches out for Brooke and holds her hand. “But my mom because I love her.”
“Your m—Oh!” Quinn swings out an arm and smacks Miles’ thigh. “You bagged a Kincaid? What the eff, dude?”
“I asked her to marry me.” Now it’s Miles’ turn to sit taller. To be proud. Then he adds, just in case any of us were wondering, “She said yes.”
“Shut up!” Quinn rises to her feet, and pulls him in for a crushing hug. “You’re happy?”
“Watch your words, Miles Walker.” Brooke sits back on