“No.” Quinn’s voice was firm. “We are going out. Get dressed. And hurry up because I have something to show you.”
“OK, fine. I’ll be down in half an hour, you big bully.”
He was laughing when I hung up.
I decided on a red pencil skirt with a bow at the top of the back slit, a black top, and just for fun, some leopard print heels. After pinning my hair into a loose knot off to one side, I put on my makeup, some earrings, and a little perfume. Before walking out the door, I grabbed my coat and the gift bag with Quinn’s present in it—a Tigers T-shirt and a voucher from me for two tickets to opening day at Comerica Park. It wasn’t like me to buy a guy a gift for Valentine’s Day, but in my defense, I’d already been planning on doing the opening day thing for him because I knew how excited he was about the upcoming season, and Valentine’s Day just happened to occur right around the time I had the idea.
Purely a coincidence.
Getting down the stairs in the heels and tight skirt was a bit of a challenge, especially holding my coat and the bag, but I managed to do it without popping stitches or turning an ankle. But when Quinn answered my knock, I went more than a little weak in the knees.
“Wow,” I said. “It’s kind of a shame it covers so much of your body, but you can wear the hell out of a suit.” It was charcoal gray and hugged his shoulders, tapered smoothly at his trim waist, and showed a hint of his white sleeves beyond the cuff. He wore a dark blue tie my fingers itched to undo, and his hair was slicked back off his face, which showed off his eyes even more. “Are you sure we have to leave the house?”
“Not at all. Now that I see you in that skirt and those heels, I’ve got all kinds of better ideas.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “You’re stunning.” Burying his face in my neck, he inhaled and then bit my throat. “I could eat you up.”
Giggling, I squirmed away from him. “Don’t muss me, or I won’t go out with you tonight.”
“How about later? Can I eat you later? We can play Little Red Riding Skirt and the Wolf.” He leered at me.
“Definitely. What did you want to show me?”
“Show you?” His eyes were still hungrily taking me in.
“Yes, you said you had something to show me before we left.”
“Oh, right!” He shook his head quickly. “You’ve got me all addled now. Let me get it.”
He went down the hall to his bedroom. Pretty soon it wouldn’t be his bedroom anymore—his condo would be ready first of March so he was moving in less than two weeks. We’d yet to break the No Sleepover rule…as late as we stayed up sometimes, we always slept in our own beds. A few times I’d been tempted to ask him to stay, or to ask if he wanted me to stay, but sticking to that rule was one of the ways I kept myself convinced that what we were doing was OK. I wasn’t losing sight of myself.
He appeared again, carrying what looked like a photograph in his hands. “I think you might have been right about my mom keeping a picture of my dad. I finally got through the last of the boxes in the attic, and this was in one of them, buried in a stack of old receipts and tax documents.”
I gasped and set my coat and the gift bag on the couch before grabbing the picture from him, turning it right side up. “Oh my God. It’s totally him.”
The resemblance was uncanny. The man was older than Quinn but had the piercing blue eyes, the jawline, the sandy hair color. In the photograph, he was standing outside holding a new baby in his arms. From the angle of his head, it seemed like he may have been looking down at the baby and raised his eyes at the moment the picture was taken.
Quinn stood behind me, looking over my shoulder. “There’s nothing written on the back, but…I think it must be him.”
“I think so too. Is that you?” I pointed at the baby.
“Probably.”
“Awww. Look at your cute little jammies. And your father was very handsome.”
We stood looking at the photo another minute in silence before Quinn spoke. “It’s funny, the way he’s holding me—assuming it’s me—he looks like he’d be a good dad.”
He did, actually. Very natural and caring. “Maybe he was.”
Quinn made a noise at the back of his throat. “For what, two years? Doesn’t count. A good dad sticks around. A good man sticks around.”
I nodded, not sure what to say. What difference did it make if your dad was handsome if he left you the way Quinn’s had?
“I’ll be a different kind of father.”
My clothing felt tight all of a sudden. I cleared my throat and handed the picture back. “I’m sure you will be.”
“Jaime,” he said, “I—”
“Should we go?” I interrupted. I had no clue what he was about to say, but my gut was telling me I wouldn’t be comfortable hearing it. The past month had been wonderful, and I didn’t want anything to change. Staying focused on the present seemed important.
Exhaling, Quinn tossed the picture onto the coffee table and picked up my coat. “Yes. Let me help you with this.”
“Oh, wait!” I scooped up the gift bag and held it out. “Your present.”
He looked amused as he set down my coat. “My present? You, Nonbeliever of True Love, got me a present for Valentine’s Day?”
“Well…” I drew the word out. “I got you a present, and I’m giving it to you on February fourteenth. Other than that, I don’t think we should draw any dramatic conclusions.”