“What’s going on?” I ask, coming over to the island.
“I’m trying to narrow down poses for these engagement pictures.” Kara shakes her head at whatever she’s seeing. “What about this one?”
“It’s nice,” Mrs. Dawson says.
“Just nice?”
“Yes, it’s too tame.”
Dean raises his eyes. “See what I’ve been dealing with? This has been going on all day. It’s just a photo.”
“An engagement photo,” Kara counters. “We’re only doing this once, babe. Come on.”
Dean caves, eyes sparkling as he looks at his fiancée. “I know.” He slides the iPad in front of him and scrolls. “I like this one.”
“No,” Kara and Mrs. Dawson say at the same time. Kara takes the iPad back, tapping her chin. “I like the ones where you can see the ring, but they look so unnatural with the hand turned out.”
“They do,” Quinn agrees, breaking a pretzel in half. “A girl from my office got married last year and she had really cute engagement photos with her hand on her fiancée’s cheek. It showed the ring and wasn’t hokey.”
“Oh, I like that idea!”
“I don’t,” Dean says. “The guy’s supposed to cup your cheek. Not the other way around.” All the women in the room roll their eyes.
“What about the pose with your hands together,” Quinn suggests and tries to demonstrate with her own hands.
“Show me with Archer,” Kara says, and no one else blinks an eye. I stiffen and Quinn almost chokes on her pretzels. If either of us balks, it’ll look like something is going on. And it is, it so is. But right now, we need to suck it up.
Quinn puts the pretzels down and hesitantly steps forward. She holds up her left hand and motions for me to hold up my right. She puts our hands together, barely interlocking our fingers.
“I like the hand holding, it’s really sweet, but you’re just standing there,” Mrs. Dawson says, really getting into this. “Quinn, step in closer. Archer, put your other hand on her waist.”
I swallow hard, praying I can control the reaction from my body, and raise my left arm. Quinn inhales, breasts rising and falling under her t-shirt, and inches closer. She slowly lets out her breath and I put my hand on her hip. The moment my hand flattens against her, she shivers.
“Now look into each others’ eyes,” Kara instructs, getting up to take our picture. “Act like you love each other.”
Quinn’s eyes widen and color rushes to her cheeks. This might be awkward for her, above her acting ability, but for me, all I have to do is look at her and not hold back.
All I have to do is look at her the way I’ve wanted to for the last twelve years.
Closing her eyes, Quinn tips her head up. Her lips part ever so slightly, and the world starts to spin. Then she opens her eyes and everything stops.
“Do something with your hand,” Kara tells Quinn. She licks her lips, nodding, and brings her arm up, resting her hand on my chest. I tighten my hold on her waist, bending my fingers in, and shuffle closer. My heart is racing, blood rushing through every part of me.
“Perfect,” Kara says, snapping a photo. “Thanks, guys.”
It takes another second for us to break apart, and taking my hand off Quinn’s waist turns out to be harder than I thought. And finally taking my hand off of hers proves to be almost impossible.
Quinn steps away, lips parted, but with an unreadable expression in her eyes. Messing with her hair, she says she’s going to go upstairs to get ready for dinner, whatever that means.
Dean’s able to get away from the engagement photo planning, and we go into the living room. Mr. Dawson and Jackson are in there, and Jackson wants me to play cars with him again. I sit on the floor, pushing the cars around and making them talk in silly voices.
Sometime later, Weston arrives, and all the guys go outside with a beer in hand to talk and bullshit while Mr. Dawson grills barbecue chicken. I lean against the patio table, thinking this is how family should be.
How mine could have been.
But it will never be, because my brother is a deadbeat and there’s no chance of him cleaning up his act enough to last more than a couple of weeks. I’ve had dinner with my parents, of course, but it’s obvious the reason why Bobby isn’t there. It’s not like he’s working or busy with his own family.
I look around at Mr. Dawson, Dean, Weston, and Jackson, and vow that when the time comes and I have my own family, we will be like this.
No matter what.
Quinn pushes her food around on her plate, taking little bites here and there and only when someone is looking. She still doesn’t feel well but is trying to hide it. I’ll ask her about it later and make sure she’s okay.
“How’s life at the hospital?” Mr. Dawson asks. “You’re at the biggest one in Indy, right?”
“Yes, I am. And it’s hectic and busy, but I really enjoy it.”
Owen takes a drink of beer and raises his eyebrows. “Do doctors hook up with hot nurses in break rooms like they do on TV?”
I laugh. “Not that I know of.”
“But Archer was seeing a hot nurse for a while,” Dean interjects, and I internally wince. “Whatever happened to her?”
“Uh, it was never much of a thing,” I deadpan, going for my beer.
“Keeping it casual.” Owen nods in approval. “A guy after my own heart.”
Quinn looks up at her brother, green eyes full of fire. “Aren’t you getting too old for casual relationships?”
The venom in her voice is directed at me, not Owen. He shrugs her off. “I’ll keep it casual as long as I want. Relationships are nothing but drama.” He turns to Kara, who’s sitting on his other side. “But not yours.”
“Thanks,” she says dryly. “One day you’ll meet a girl who’ll change your mind.”
Owen smirks. “She’ll have to be really good at—”
Logan elbows him hard in the gut, shutting him up. I try to catch Quinn’s eye, but she’s staring hard at her plate.
“What about you, sis?” Logan asks, and I see him slowly shift his gaze from me to her and back again. “Is there a special someone in your life?”
“He’s far from special,” Quinn says with a sweet smile. “Though he could have been, but what’s done is done, right?”
Her answer only makes sense to me, leaving the rest of the table left wondering. I take a quick look around and feel a lump rise in my throat. Quinn is obviously upset. I hurt her, made her think that weekend was nothing more than dirty sex, and probably fucking blew it.
I’m in love with this woman and I’m pretty sure she never wants to talk to me again.
If the Dawsons knew I was the reason for Quinn’s pain…if they knew what I did to her, and what she did to me—three times—they’d line up to beat me up. I can hold my own against Dean. And probably Owen. Logan would give me a run for my money and Weston served two tours in Afghanistan and is a cop. He’d beat the shit out of me.
My only hope would be Quinn, yelling and screaming at them to stop. Though by the look she just gave me, she’d be on the sidelines cheering them on.
“Oh, Archer!” Mrs. Dawson exclaims. “I didn’t even ask you about the interview. How do you feel it went?”
“Great,” I say honestly. “The chief surgeon is a big Purdue fan. I think it helped I did my pre-med studies there.”
“I knew you’d do great.” Mrs. Dawson beams. “If you do get the job, you’re welcome to stay here.”
“That’s very generous, but I can’t—”
“Nonsense! We have this big old house full of empty rooms.” Mrs. Dawson looks pointedly at Dean as she speaks. She doesn’t need to actually say the words for everyone to know what she’s talking about: she wants more grandchildren. Her eyes narrow ever so slightly and the temperature shifts down a few degrees. Dean and Kara haven’t picked a wedding date yet, which puts more grandchildren farther and farther out of the picture. “We’d be happy to have you until you find somethi
ng permanent. You can save some money on rent that way too,” she adds. “I know how overworked and underpaid resident doctors are.” She playfully elbows Mr. Dawson. “I learned that from those romance doctor shows you say are good for nothing.”
“They are good for nothing,” Mr. Dawson teases, trying his best to convince everyone he really thinks so.
“He watches them too,” Mrs. Dawson whisper-talks. “But really, honey, our door is always open.”
I can’t help but smile at her offer, the generosity of the whole goddamn Dawson clan never failing to surprise me. My phone rings and I reach into my pocket to pull it out and silence it. It’s my weekend off, dammit, and I’m not in town to fill in tonight.
But it’s not the hospital calling. It’s my mom.
19
quinn
Archer’s face falls when he looks at his phone. Then his eyes narrow ever so slightly with fear.
“Sorry,” he says, and stands. “It’s my mother. I have to take this.”
“Go ahead, honey,” Mom says, not catching the worry in Archer’s face like I do. My anger goes out the window, and I’m concerned for him now. He mentioned having a sick family member. What if they couldn’t fight their illness anymore?
I set my fork down, reaching for my water, and peer into the kitchen, trying to get a read on Archer’s face. His back is to me, but his hand lands on his neck. Shit. Something is wrong.
“Quinn?” Dad says in a tone that lets me know it wasn’t the first time he said my name. “Earth to Quinn.”
“Yeah, sorry. What?”