Quinn #2
"I'm sorry," he says, pressing a kiss against my forehead. “I should have done something to stop all of this bullshit a fucking long time ago. You deserve so much better than what we have given you.”
My throat goes tight. "You were twenty-two when everything with Orla happened," I say quietly. “You have your own life and you’re doing what you’ve always wanted to do, you don’t owe me an apology.”
"I was old enough to know better." He tells me, his voice hard. "You spent years in that house getting torn apart, and now I’ve come to find out beaten too. I stepped in whenever it was convenient for me, when I knew that the blowback on me was minimal, and I kept quiet when it wasn’t. That’s on me, Quinn.
I fucked up and I failed you. That’s why I owe you an apology. ”
"Daithí—"
"Let me say it."
I close my mouth, knowing that he won’t stop until he gets this all out.
"You should have been protected," he says. "I'm your brother and that was my job and I didn't do it properly and I'm sorry." He holds my gaze for a second before he glances away. "I'm doing it now. Late, I know. But I'm doing it."
I breathe in through my nose slowly, I can’t let anymore tears fall. I’ve cried too much already.
"Thank you," I say roughly.
"Don't thank me," he says. "Just let me fix it."
“I wish Conn was as understanding as you. I wish he knew the truth but he doesn’t and he hates me.”
“As I said, I’ll fix it and that includes Conn. He’ll be home soon. When he is, it’s time for me, Caden, and Conn to sit down and set some things straight.”
I nod, knowing that it’s not going to do any good. Conn truly believes that I’m the reason that Orla is dead and to the boy who loved her unconditionally, I’ll always be the person who drove her to suicide.
“Come on,” Daithí says. “It’s time. We’ve got a wedding dress to find.”
The boutique is beautiful. Fancy as hell, but beautiful.
The owner, Fiona greets us with a warm smile and shakes Daithí's hand without batting an eye. “You must be Miss Quinn, I’m so very honored that you have chosen O’Shaughnessy’s Bridal Boutique for your special day.
I’m so very thankful that I'll be the one to help you choose your dress.”
“The honor is all mine,” I reply honestly. “I’ve seen some of your designs online and they’re simply stunning. Thank you so much for letting me have an appointment.”
Fiona beams with pride as she ushers us further inside her store to a private room that has a raised platform in the middle of it, three floor-to-ceiling mirrors positioned in front of it, and a small seating area for guests to sit and watch.
Daithí immediately takes a seat, and gives me a big smile as Fiona takes me to the changing room.
“Have you thought about what style of wedding dress you’d like?”
“I’m not very tall but I’d like to have a mermaid style, I think. Something fitted, something modern but also timeless, if that makes sense?”
Fiona smiles at me, it’s wide and bright.
“It makes total sense, I have a few options in the mermaid style, let me get them and help you into them. If you wouldn’t mind undressing so you’re in your undergarments, that would be great.
” She doesn’t wait for me to reply, just hurries out of the changing room.
I take a deep breath and do exactly as she asks. I’m not shy, I’ve been to enough tailors and dress makers to know the drill. It doesn’t take long until Fiona reappears with a selection of options. She shows me the first dress and helps me into it. I already know that this is a no for me.
It's too structured, too formal, too heavy. There’s so much material that it’s not as form fitting as I’d like. I come out and Daithí looks at me, his expression blank which is annoying as hell. I hate when I can’t read him.
"It's very—" he starts.
"Much not me," I say, as I look down at the dress. It’s beautiful, but it’s not for me.
"I was going to say it’s very material heavy."
"Yeah," I sigh as I look to Fiona who’s watching us interact. “I’m sorry. It’s a beautiful dress, but it’s just too much fabric. It’s not as fitted as I’d hoped.”
Fiona waves me off. “Don’t apologize Miss Quinn. We’re here to find you the perfect dress and that’s what we’ll do. We have more options and it’s always good to know what you’re thinking as it’ll help me narrow it down to dresses you like.”
I go back into the dressing room, and Fiona helps me out of the first dress and into the second.
I stare at myself in the mirror and see a bright white fitted dress that has a long train.
A train that somehow makes me look smaller than I am.
I know that this dress would be Mam’s pick for sure.
It’s a little on the old fashioned side, and that’s Mam’s taste to a T.
I stand on the platform and show Daithí. "No," he tells me before I even put my arms down. “This isn’t you. Next.”
I’d laugh if I could. He’s taking this very seriously.
The third one is pretty, stunningly so, but I feel nothing. I stand on the platform in front of the three mirrors and I look at myself. I think about the wedding, about walking toward Lorenzo in this dress. This isn’t the dress I’d envisioned for myself.
My eyes sting as I realize that what I had envisioned isn’t going to come true. Everything I had hoped came crashing down the moment that Lorenzo pulled away from me. I blink the tears back. Not here, I can’t break down here.
"That one makes you sad," Daithí says, moving toward me.
I look at him, hoping and praying that my tears stay away. "I'm not sad."
"Quinn." He gives me the look that tells me he knows that I’m lying.
I look back at the mirror. The dress is pretty but it's wrong. I don't know how to explain that to Fiona without sounding like a crazy person, because honestly? There’s no way to describe how I’m feeling.
"I'll try the next one," I say, blowing out a breath and putting on a bright smile.
We've been here nearly an hour and tried on six different dresses when Daithí stands. “Fiona, would you mind giving me and my sister five minutes?”
Fiona doesn’t hesitate. “Of course not, I’ll put the dresses we’ve tried on away and maybe pull some more?” Again, she doesn’t wait for a response; she leaves Daithí and I alone in the room.
"Do you remember when you were about nine," he says, "and you used to come and find me in the library with whatever book you were reading, and you'd just sit there reading in the same room as me without saying anything, for hours."
I look at him, wondering why he’s saying this. "I remember."
"I used to think it was because you liked my company," he says with a small laugh. "But looking back, I think it was because the library was safe. I was there and nobody bothered you when I was there."
I don't say anything because he’s right. That’s exactly why I would go there and it’s been my safe haven ever since.
"You learned to survive by finding the quietest corner," he says.
"You made yourself small and you got very good at it.
" He holds my gaze. "And I let that happen.
I let you believe that making yourself small was the safest option, and it was, in that house, but it shouldn't have been. You should have been protected."
I breathe in deeply. God, Daithí is killing me today.
"Surviving isn't the same as being loved properly," he says.
My eyes fill with tears, but I don't let them fall. They're there, pressing at the edges of my eyes. Daithí sees it and he doesn't look away.
"I'm scared," I say. My words are small and I’ve never felt as vulnerable as I do now.
"I'm scared Lorenzo thinks I'm capable of something awful, and I don't know how to fix it, and I don't know how to walk into that marriage carrying this.
And the worst part—" I stop. "The worst part is that I care.
I wasn't supposed to care what he thinks of me and I do, and now Daire has made sure his first real impression of who I am is the worst possible version, and I can't—" I press my lips together.
"I just keep thinking I don't want to marry a man who thinks that of me.
And I didn't expect to think that, because I didn't expect to want anything from it. "
Daithí is very still.
"That's a lot to worry about Quinn and it’s a valid thought. I’m so sorry you are feeling this way and there’s nothing I can do to change it," he says.
"No," I reply. "there's not."
"If he's worth marrying," Daithí says, "he'll find the truth. He'll look for it and he'll find it and he'll understand what happened, and if he doesn't, that's his failure, Quinn. Not yours. You've been carrying other people's failures your whole life. That one's not yours to pick up."
He wipes a stray tear from my cheek. "You've always had me," he says, softly. "Even when I wasn't protecting you, you've always had me."
I nod because right now, I don't trust my voice.
"And Caden," he adds, rolling his eyes, which I know he’s trying to add light to the situation.
"And Caden," I agree, and it almost comes out like a laugh.
"And Conn, when he eventually sorts his head out."
I look at him. That’s never going to happen and for him to believe that is crazy talk.
He looks back steadily. "That's a later conversation."
"Yes," I say. "It is."
Fiona appears in the doorway with the next dress. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, her cheeks rising with a red hue. “But I think I found the dress.”
I see it before she hands it to me. The color is Ivory, not white like all the other dresses that I’ve tried on and it has straps at the shoulders that aren’t too thick.
My heart starts to stammer and I rush over to Fiona. She must see the excitement in my eyes because she grins while we move to the changing room.
She helps me into it, carefully pulling the fabric up my body before fastening the buttons at the back. The material is smooth against my skin, and I’m in love without even looking at it.
I glance down as Fiona adjusts the bodice, my breath catching.