Chapter 21
T he rest of the day was a flurry of holiday-related activities as they put up the tree, strung the lights, and hung the ornaments, all while Christmas music played on the Otter Bluff sound system.
When they were done, Delilah fulfilled her promise of hot cocoa, serving steaming mugs to the boys and to Quinn.
She plopped down onto the sofa with her own mug, feeling exhausted but happy.
“This living room is a train wreck,” she said, looking over the piles of empty packaging from the lights and the ornaments. Fallen pine needles were scattered beneath the layer of debris. “A really bad one. With casualties.”
With a sigh, she put her mug on the coffee table and started to get up to attack the mess. Quinn caught her arm. “Don’t worry about it right now. We can deal with it later. The boys and I will help. Right, Jesse? Gavin?”
Gavin nodded gamely, but Jesse complained.
“Aww. Do we have to?”
“After everything your mom went through today to make you guys happy, I think it’s the least we can do,” Quinn said.
“Okay.” Jesse said it as though he were agreeing to something he knew he’d regret.
“There,” Quinn said. “We’ll all do it together, but not yet. Enjoy your cocoa.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Delilah sat back down on the sofa, took up her mug, and enjoyed a warm, chocolaty sip. The tree really did look good. Tiny colored lights sparkled amid the branches, and a wildly eclectic assortment of ornaments gave the tree a look of riotous festivity.
How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on the television, and Jesse and Gavin watched intently as Quinn and Delilah relaxed.
“You want to step out on the patio and enjoy the view?” Quinn asked. Something in his voice said he was interested in more than just watching the waves.
“Sure.”
They took their empty mugs into the kitchen, left the boys in front of the movie, and stepped onto the back patio, closing the sliding glass door behind them.
It was getting late—dinner and the usual evening rituals were behind them—and the sky was dark, with just the moonlight reflecting on the water.
“Come here.” Quinn took Delilah’s hand and stepped over to a part of the patio where they couldn’t be seen from the living room, drawing her along with him. When they had privacy, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Delilah sank into him, molding herself against him as she savored the warmth of his body and the taste of his mouth.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he said.
“Me too.”
“Yeah?” He grinned, still holding her against him. “Maybe after the kids are in bed, we can slip into your room and—”
She put her palms flat against his chest and pushed against him playfully. “Quinn, we can’t.”
“Why not?”
“What if they hear us?”
“We’ll be quiet.”
“What if one of them comes in?”
“We’ll lock the door.”
Her eyebrows rose as she considered him. “What are we going to tell them when they see you in the morning?”
“I’ll climb out the window at dawn. I’m not above that sort of thing. And it wouldn’t be unprecedented.”
“I’ll bet.”
Part of Delilah wanted to give in and let it happen. They’d had such a lovely day. Was it so wrong that she wanted to keep that loveliness going and take it to new levels?
But she couldn’t let the boys know that she and Quinn were romantically involved. It was one thing to let them spend time with Quinn as a friend, with the understanding that they would go home in January, leaving him behind.
It was entirely another to get their hopes up that Quinn might be a permanent part of their lives, just to devastate them when it ended.
Because things always ended, even if you were promised they wouldn’t. Even if you were promised a lifetime. Nothing was forever—she’d learned that the hard way.
Even though she couldn’t risk that, she could risk another kiss. She raised onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his, and he held her and caressed her tongue with his.
“I had a good time. Thank you.” She laid her cheek against his chest.
“Ah. I guess that means I’m going.”
“I guess it does. But don’t go without saying goodbye to the boys.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.”
With a groan of regret, he tore himself away from her and went back inside to help clean up—as promised—and to say goodbye to Jesse and Gavin.
When Quinn was gone, the living room was tidied up, and the movie was over, Delilah told the boys it was time for bed.
They did the usual complaining combined with the customary pleas for water, books, and more time.
She finally got Gavin tucked in with Waffles beside him, then she went into Jesse’s room to kiss him and wish him goodnight.
“Oh.” Jesse perked up as he remembered something. “Dad called on your cell phone while you and Quinn were outside. I answered it, even though it’s your phone, because I saw his name. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “Did you and he have a good talk?”
Jesse nodded vigorously, his eyes wide. “Yeah. I told him all about the stuff we did today. I told him about the tree and the ornaments and stuff, and the movie and the hot cocoa. And I told him all about Quinn.”
Delilah tried not to wince at that. “That’s great, sweetie.”
“He said you should call him back because he has stuff he wants to talk about.”
“Did he?”
I’ll just bet he’s got stuff he wants to talk about .
He was going to give her hell about Quinn. Well, that was fine. She didn’t owe him anything—not anymore. Still, she didn’t look forward to the conversation.
She kissed Jesse, then turned out the light on her way out of the room.
In the living room, she picked up her cell phone from a side table and found a text message from Mitch.
Call me ASAP.
She closed her eyes and said a silent curse.
No sense putting it off. She stepped onto the front porch so the boys wouldn’t hear the conversation from their rooms and called her ex.
“Delilah.” He already sounded pissed.
“Hi, Mitch. You called?”
“Yeah, I did. I talked to Jesse more than an hour ago—I’ve been waiting for you to call.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and leaned against the porch railing. “Why are you even up? It’s, what, six a.m. in Paris?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“What is the subject, Mitch?”
“The subject, Delilah, is the man you brought around my children. That’s the subject. Who the hell is he, and what’s going on?”
Delilah felt her body tense, and she reflected, just for a moment, on how much of her marriage she’d spent in that state of coiled discomfort. It was a feeling specifically linked to her ex-husband.
“None of that is your business,” she told him.
“The hell it isn’t. Those are my sons you’ve got hanging out with some random asshole.”
“Well,” Delilah said dryly, “they spent the first several years of their lives hanging out with you. I don’t see how this could be any worse.”
“Delilah, goddamn it …”
“You left me for someone else, Mitch. You don’t have the high ground, so don’t you dare pretend you do.”
“Who is he?” Mitch said again. “Are you fucking him?”
“I’m finished with this conversation.”
“We’ll see about that,” Mitch growled at her. “We’ll just see.”