“That might be taking it too far,” Finn says with a laugh. “But I like this idea a lot. I’ll ask her to make room in her schedule for a couple of nights away.”
“Perfect. Now, let us see it.”
“It has a bow on it,” Finn says with a frown. “I don’t want to ruin it.”
“It’s going to already be open when you give it to her,” I remind him. “We need to see it.”
“Agreed,” Carter says.
Finn mumbles something about us being meddling women, making us both laugh, as he unwraps the box and shows us the pear-shaped diamond on a platinum band.
I whistle. “That’s one hell of a rock, brother.”
“She’s one hell of a woman,” he says with a grin. “She’ll like it, right?”
“She’s going to flip her shit,” Carter says. “Hell, I might marry you.”
“You’re not my type,” Finn says. “Now that we have that out of the way, how did your meeting go, Q?”
“It’s interesting,” I reply. “I don’t know how she’ll prove that the money was either paid back, or that the promissory note isn’t valid, but that’s not my problem.”
“It’s not often we get a case this old,” Carter adds. “It’s fascinating.”
“I’m hoping I can get in front of a judge early next week. This shouldn’t take up too much of my time.”
“That’s good because we have some new things to talk about,” Finn replies and begins going down his laundry list of topics for this week’s meeting.
It’s late. My meeting with the guys pushed the rest of my day back by hours, but there was no avoiding it.
I’m driving, rush hour long over, to my mom’s place, just to check in with her before I drive back to my apartment in Manhattan.
The lights are on in her house when I pull in. I walk inside and smile when I find her in the living room, munching on popcorn, watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey.
“I like this Dolores,” she says as I walk in the room and bend over to kiss her cheek. “She has spunk.”
“I forgot this was your TV night,” I reply and sink down into the couch across from her, lay my head back on the cushion, and drape my arm over my face. This is the first moment of the day that I’ve had to sit and just be.
I’m fucking tired.
It’s been a long stretch of work, without a break. I’m talking more than six months, working seven days a week.
Maybe I should take a day off this weekend and let off some steam. Go to the racetrack or to zip line. Climb a mountain.
I would say hook up with a beautiful woman, but the only woman who comes to mind is Sienna Hendricks, and I can guarantee you that she would not welcome my advances.
Which only makes me want her more.
I’m a fucking masochist.
“Quinn?”
“Yeah?” I pull my arm away and look over at Mom.
“Did you fall asleep?”
“No. What did you say?”
“If you’re this tired, you should have just gone home. This is too far out of your way.”
“Mom, I’m fine. I just didn’t hear what you said.”
“I asked if you were hungry.”
My stomach decides now is the best moment to let out a growl, making us both smile.
“I’ll make you something,” she says, standing.
“No, you don’t have to do that. I can grab something on my way home.”
“You come here every day, and you don’t need to do that either. I’m fixing my son something to eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I smile and follow her into the kitchen, then sit at the table as she bustles about, fills a pot with water to boil, and assembles the ingredients for a quick spaghetti.
“I don’t have any of my marinara left, but I have some that your aunt Kathy canned earlier this summer and brought me.”
“That’ll be great,” I say and watch quietly as she makes my dinner. I’m not what you’d call a mama’s boy. I can live my life without needing her input, but I do worry about her. Darcy and Dad died within months of each other, and Mom’s health hasn’t been stellar over the past couple of years.
I’m terrified of losing her too.
So I insist on doctors’ visits, and I do hover. I admit it. But if anything were to happen to her, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.
Not to mention, I enjoy my evenings here, talking with her. Laughing. It’s the only part of my life that relaxes me.
“Your father called,” she says, pulling me out of my relaxed thoughts and making me frown.
“What?”
She smiles over at me. “He’s just going to be a bit late tonight, so I’ll save him some dinner for later.”
“Mom, Dad’s been gone for five years. He didn’t call.”
She blinks rapidly, then frowns, her eyes sad, as she remembers. “Oh, that’s right.”
She’s never done something like this before. My God, is she developing dementia? Alzheimer’s?