"Why are you apologizing? Just say the word and we'll leave right now," I said.
She smiled. "I would. I really would, but I honestly think it would only make things worse."
"What? Leaving your father with your jealous ex-boyfriend and his painfully uncomfortable boy toy?" I asked.
Quinn smiled again. It felt like a knot came loose in my chest.
"I really didn't think this would be so bad. I actually am caught up with my coursework. I thought I'd read my chapters like a good collegiate tonight and meet you for pancakes in the morning," she said.
"Pancakes in the morning? What am I, your 80-year-old aunt?" I asked.
"No. You're just my buddy dating an amazing jet-setter named Anya," Quinn said.
"I only said that to take the heat off you." I reached for her hand under the table. "She is the farthest thing from my mind when I think about that tournament."
"What's the first thing that comes to mind?" Quinn asked.
"Blood spurting everywhere. Remember, Quinn?" Trent asked.
She pulled her hand away. "All it took was a little pressure to stop the bleeding. It was just a nick on your wrist. No big deal."
"I still have the scar," Trent said. He held up his wrist. "The best part was her bedside manner, or should I say trenchside manner. Only Quinn would be able to calm down a raving drunk in the middle of a crowd of raving drunks while the band goes into their loudest number."
"So, I'm not such a monster for making you stick with it," Mr. Thomas said.
"It’s not that," Quinn said. "I'm just not sure I really want to become a nurse."
The good will in her father's eyes disappeared. "Nonsense. Think about how excited Sienna was to have you at UCLA and in the nursing program. Don't you want to see it through for her?"
I felt the wine turn to acid in my mouth. "You would think Sienna would want her little sister to be happy."
"You are the last person I want to hear speculating on what my daughter would have thought," Mr. Thomas said.
Trent gave me a malignant smile. "Why don't I help clear some of these dishes?"
"Thank you, Trent," Mr. Thomas said.
Quinn jumped up to help them. When they all went through to the kitchen, I let out an angry sigh.
"Who's Sienna?" Nicky asked.
"You don't want to know," I said. "If you leave now, I'll cover for you and get a cab for Trent. Go dancing and have fun."
"You're sweet," Nicky said. He got up and moved into Quinn's seat. "I can see why Quinn loves you and why Trent hates you."
"That'd be nice if it were true," I said.
"What? That Quinn loves you? Oh, honey, no one's going to buy that girlfriend-in-Vegas story. Even I saw how you two are like magnets," Nicky said. He patted my hand.
"Hell, you have nothing to lose. Want to tell Mr. Thomas to let his daughter live her own life? I swear, if you do it, I'll spring for a suite at the Wynn for you. You don't even have to tell Trent where you're going unless you want to," I said.
"Honey, all you have to do is ask me nicely," Nicky said. He clinked his wine glass against mine, and it was still ringing when Trent came back into the dining room.
"Really, Nicky? You are a total slut. I brought you here and now I find you flirting with him?" Trent asked.
"He's nice. And gorgeous," Nicky said. "Besides I drove and you know this has been a disaster."
"I can call him a cab right now," I said to Nicky.