30. Graham
CHAPTER THIRTY
graham
Patience was no chore
When I had her in the end
She was worth the wait
Today is no different from the Thanksgiving dinners I grew up with, but we all feel the absence of my dad on days like this. The surprise return of Florence has helped ease the pain, however. My family means everything to me; always has and always will. The people around this table have been a constant in my life, but I’ve been walking around blind.
Until her.
She waltzed into my life and, in the blink of an eye, showed me what it was to be alive. I must have done something good in a past life to have her sitting next to me, her hand resting on my thigh, and a smile on her face that somehow, I put there.
I can’t lose her.
Since the moment this stopped being fake, I haven’t allowed myself to question this. The temptation to ask Why me ? still lingers in the corner of my mind. It’s hard to believe that someone as incredible as her could be happy with someone like me, but I’ve convinced myself there are no risks to weigh or probabilities to determine the outcome of our relationship.
Actually , there is one probability.
I’m certain I love her.
“ Little Sadler ,” Dex calls across the table. “ How long are you in town for?”
Florence is sharing a large portion of pumpkin pie with Lottie , who is perched on her knee. The fork freezes halfway to her mouth, and she appears thrown by the question. “ Umm , about that. I wanted to come home to help Mom out since the accident and all my friends have continued on to Mexico before heading home for the holidays. It seems like a good time to take a break from the hostel lifestyle. Plus , my savings didn’t last as long as I expected.”
“ Oh , sweetheart, why didn’t you call?” my mom asks.
She shrugs and keeps her eyes trained on her plate. “ It’s fine. Things just didn’t go according to plan…” There’s an avoidance in her tone, but before I can question her, Patrick taps a fork against his glass and stands.
“ Before some of you get too drunk or pass out on the sofa in a food coma, I just wanted to say a little something. You know, in the spirit of being thankful and all that jazz. This past year has been a tough one.” His hand rests on the back of Johanna’s neck as she looks up at him lovingly. “ I know things are still uncertain with the new owner, but I , for one, am very thankful for each and every one of you sitting at this table. To old friends”—he looks around, down at Jo , and then turns to Quinn —“and new ones.”
We all raise a glass in cheers, then eat until there’s nothing left.
An hour later, Quinn and I are cozied up on the swinging bench in my mom’s yard, wrapped up in a blanket as the others crowd around the small fire pit to roast marshmallows. She’s slotted between my legs, her back to my front.
“ Another day for the record books.” She weaves her fingers through mine. “ Thank you for today. For helping me forget what this day reminds me of. I didn’t know it could be like this.”
“ What could?”
“ Having a family that loves you unconditionally.”
My eyes close at her words. How anyone could not love Quinn is unfathomable. “ It’s hard to believe you haven’t been coming to family dinners for years. You fit in here.” You fit in with me.
She turns in my hold and looks up at me with her chin balanced on my chest. “ Today , I’m thankful for you.”
“ And I’m thankful for you; today and every day.” The tip of my finger traces over the apple of her cheek, rosy from the bitter November air. “ Why don’t you go and join everyone around the fire? I’ll grab you another glass of cider.”
Before she can respond, Booth shouts my name. “ Your phone won’t stop buzzing over here.”
We walk toward my family, and I take my phone from his outstretched hand, finding Martin Willis’s name flashing on the screen. “ Martin ,” I greet. “ Everything okay?”
“ Thank god.” He sighs tiredly. “ I’ve been trying to call Quinn for the last half hour. Are you with her?”
“ She’s right here. What’s up?” Quinn looks up at me with concern. I shake my head and mouth, Mr . Willis to reassure her.
“ Sorry to do this today. There was a woman banging on the bakery door and screaming Quinn’s name.” My blood chills. “ The tenant upstairs called me, but by the time I got here, things escalated. We had no choice but to call the cops.”
“ What did she do?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“ Threw a couple of bricks through the window.”
“ Fuck .” I wince.
I can’t look at Quinn . Can’t bear to see her face when I tell her what’s happened. Today was supposed to be different. A distraction, like the one she gave me when my mom was in the hospital. She got away from the hatred, poison, and heartbreak. Built her life from the ground up. She doesn’t deserve this.
“ Do you know who she is?” he asks.
“ Yeah . I think I do.”