Chapter 23
Quinn
I ’m crumb coating a single-tier, ten-inch round cake in Harlan’s kitchen when he pops his head in and says hello. “Don’t let me interrupt you. I was just checking to see if you’re here.”
“I’m here.” It’s Saturday, but I’m not working at Champagne tonight. I told him I’d be here when he came home.
He said he was meeting up with his sister this afternoon, which seems like a rarity. But it is their birthday today.
“I’m just going to shower and get ready,” he says, his gaze dragging over the cute blue dress I’m wearing under my apron.
“Sounds good.”
Once I’ve got the cake completely covered, I pop it into the fridge to let the crumb coat firm up a bit before I add more buttercream and smooth it out.
I step outside to stretch and get some fresh air. I’ve been in the kitchen for a few hours.
To my surprise, I find Harlan on his back patio, still in his suit, sitting on the edge of a lounge chair and stroking the black cat at his feet.
“Why do you pretend you don’t love that cat?” I ask.
I think I startled him.
He gets to his feet. “I’m going for that shower.” He gives me a kiss on the cheek as he passes by. “Don’t let it in the house.”
“You mean her ?”
He just gives me a slightly disapproving look, and heads into the house without a word.
The cat meets my eyes.
“Yeah, I saw him loving on you,” I tell her. “Are you trying to tell me he’s not as cold and grumpy as he pretends?”
The cat hops daintily onto the vacated lounge chair, and stretches out in the warm spot.
I go over and stroke her soft fur for a moment. “Good girl. You make yourself right at home.”
I head into the kitchen and do a bit of cleanup, then pull out the cake. As I’m piping on the buttercream and smoothing it out, Dani calls me on FaceTime.
I prop my phone up and keep working so she can see me.
“Nicole says you have tonight off,” she tells me. She appears to be driving. “Does that mean you can come out and play?”
“No, unfortunately.”
“But you look so fab, and it’s Saturday night. Who are you all dressed up for, if not me?”
Damn. I don’t love admitting that I’m dressed up for Harlan, but it is what it is.
“It’s Harlan’s birthday. And his twin sister’s, obviously. There’s a Vance family dinner.”
“Oh. He invited you to his birthday dinner? That’s kind of cool,” she admits grudgingly.
I turn that over. “Hmm. He didn’t, exactly. He just told me it’s happening. But that’s just how he is.” At least, I think it is… “He probably doesn’t love getting a bunch of attention. He’s not like that. But I’m actually looking forward to another family dinner. I really like his siblings.”
“Uh-huh. And would that be a birthday cake you’re making right now? For the birthday dinner you weren’t ‘exactly’ invited to?”
Damn it. How does she always make my crazy so… obvious? “Yes. Are you happy?”
“That’s a whole other topic, Quinn. Don’t change the subject.”
“I made the cake for both him and his sister,” I say defensively. “You know, to try to keep it casual.”
“Right. Because making him his own cake that says Happy Birthday, Daddy!, while that’s probably what you’re dying to actually do, might be too much.”
“Stop it.”
“You know I’m right.”
“I would. It would be cute. If it wouldn’t give him a heart attack. I kind of need him alive so he can be around for you to judge his fathering skills. What fun would that be without him?”
“Good point.”
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to call you…”
“I’m right here, babe. My number hasn’t changed.”
“I know. But you know me. I’ve been so busy, and that just makes it easier to avoid the things.”
“What things?”
“Things like telling you that he took me to see a building he wants to buy for me.”
“Just a minute. I need to pull over so I don’t run someone down. This conversation is much too juicy for steering.” She pulls over, parks, and shoves her face closer to her phone. “Did you say building ?”
“It’s just a bakery. With an apartment over it for Mom and me to live in. And the baby, of course.”
“Oh. That’s all.” She rolls her eyes. “Are you nuts? What’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m just trying to survive this whole drama, one hour at a time. My life is turning into some lame TV movie, and I don’t even know if it’s the kind with a tragic ending.”
“They don’t cast men as hot as Harlan in movies like that,” she says dismissively. “Let’s circle back to this building thing. Did you say yes?”
“I didn’t say anything. I just told him I need to think about it.”
“Good. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Well, it’s Sunday. So, laundry and vacuuming while Lorraine listens to Motley Crüe and Duran Duran at an ungodly volume?”
“Wrong. You’re listening to Nicole and I discuss your life, and figure out what you need to do about this building thing.”
“Uh—”
“I may even help you do laundry. And we’ll bring samosas.”
“Shit. Okay, fine. But just know that he already told me he wants to be in the baby’s life. And that he wants to support me in raising it however I want to. And he’s already proving that’s true with his generosity. This offer is a commitment to me and the baby.”
“I mean, who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”
I sigh.
“The fact is, that baby comes in eight months,” she says. “So hear me out on this, okay? Your place is falling apart. And Lorraine’s not getting any worse these days, thank god, but she’s not really getting any better, either. So, the sooner you can get settled and comfortable before the baby comes, the better. And whatever he offers you in the way of support, just know that you deserve it.”
I take that in, my chest flooding with affection. I blink back tears. I’ve been extra emotional lately. “Why can’t I just have a baby with you?”
“Oh, no. Don’t get it twisted. This is just cool aunt energy.”
“I totally thought you were going in a different direction with all this.”
“What direction?”
“The one where you tell me he’s not good enough for me, because he didn’t immediately get down on one knee and put a ring on it.”
“That is true. But Quinn, you’re pregnant. All that matters right now is you and that baby, and that baby’s grandma. If he doesn’t want to join the most beautiful family ever, it’s his loss.”
My eyes sting, listening to her speak. But I’m pretty sure I hear Harlan coming.
“I should really go, Dani. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay, babe. We’ll come over around noon with those samosas.”
“And Dani? I love you, you know.”
“You stop it,” she says, and hangs up, just as Harlan steps into the room.
He looks sharp as hell in his black suit. It’s pretty much the same as he always looks, but I don’t know… maybe it’s just my squishy, pregnant heart and all the hormones that are making me think he looks better every time I see him.
“You look nice,” I tell him.
“You, too. Too nice for someone who’s been slaving in a kitchen all day.” As he moves toward me, his gaze skims down my dress again. My hair is partially up, too. I even curled it a bit.
I want to look nice for his family. Especially Savannah.
I really want her to like me.
“Thank you. I’m almost ready. What time do we need to leave?”
He stops a few feet away from me, glancing at the cake. I haven’t written Happy Birthday on it yet. I’m not sure if I’m going to.
“For what?” he says.
“For your birthday dinner.”
He stares at me. And I know exactly what he’s going to say.
I feel it sinking through me like an anchor.
“I… was planning to go alone.”
“Oh.” I blink at the cake, suddenly struggling to pipe on the pattern of yellow buttercream pearls up the side.
“Quinn.”
I blink at him. “I just assumed…”
“Assumed what?”
“I thought when you told me about the dinner, that we were going.”
He clears his throat. “That can’t happen, Quinn.”
The sinking feeling is making me kind of sick. And maybe just a bit angry.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he says evenly, “my family doesn’t know that we’ve been seeing each other, much less that you’re pregnant.”
I’m stunned.
“You haven’t told them… anything… about me?”
“Nothing new. You were introduced to them as Darla, then I told them we broke up. You know that.”
“But… we didn’t break up. Did we?”
“Technically, we were never really together.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this to me right now.”
“Quinn—”
“Regardless of how you feel about me or don’t, you’re telling me that you never mentioned to any of them that you’ve been seeing me? Or that I’ve been here, working out of your kitchen?” I’m starting to tremble.
“I told you that we couldn’t see each other. That it was unacceptable to them.”
“Yeah, you told me. Like, before we hooked up the first time. Things have changed.”
He stares at me. “What’s changed?” he says gently.
It crushes me.
I don’t want him to be gentle with me.
I want to be furious with him, and how can I do that when he’s being gentle?
“I thought… I just assumed at some point you must’ve mentioned me. Told them we’re seeing each other.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because things have changed! Maybe it hasn’t changed for you,” I say, my voice starting to quiver, “but I’m pregnant , Harlan. That’s about as changed as I can get. I’m bloated. My boobs hurt. My hormones are all over the place?—”
“Try to stay calm,” he says calmly. “It’s not good for the baby.”
I try to keep calm, but it just frustrates me further that he’s so calm. “If you don’t want to tell them about the baby yet, that’s okay. I know it’s a lot. And it’s early. I haven’t even told Mom.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Then what is it? You can’t seriously expect me to be ‘Darla’ forever, even after I have your baby.”
“As far as they’re concerned,” he says carefully, “you are Darla.”
“But I’m not . Why won’t you just tell them the truth? That you broke up with her, the real her? That she’s Geneviève Blaise? And I’m me . And I’m someone you care about?” My voice wavers on those last words.
I feel desperate. Wounded.
Pathetic.
Harlan looks slightly frustrated, maybe. I really can’t tell. He definitely doesn’t admit that he cares.
It makes me really wonder what it will be like when the baby comes.
And how fucking lonely I’ll be.
Of all the things I learned while being raised by my wonderful mother, my biggest takeaway was that I never wanted to end up a single mom.
And ending up a single mom because you’ve been rejected by the baby’s father, who you’re actually falling in love with?
I can’t handle this.
“It’s about privacy,” he finally says, stiffly. “I can’t expect you to understand how important?—”
“Is it? Or is it about secrecy?”
I know he’s keeping things from his family.
But I really have no way of knowing if he’s telling me the whole truth, either.
Is he really over Geneviève? I wonder this, almost daily. Since he’s lying about her identity to protect her, maybe he still cares about her. A lot.
Is he still in contact with her?
I remember how his sister said that he was “holding out for Darla.”
Maybe he’s still holding out for her.
I don’t know what other possible reason he could have for keeping me at a distance. Other than maybe he just doesn’t like me that much.
But that’s even more painful to consider.
Maybe he doesn’t care about me as much as I want him to. Maybe he never will.
Maybe he can’t, because he’s still in love with her.
Maybe he’s not even capable of loving anyone.
Have I been totally delusional? About the bakery he offered to buy for me, and what it might actually mean? About us, somehow building a life and a family together?
“Maybe you just can’t stand the idea of me and your siblings in the same room, and everyone asking questions,” I tell him, “and the truth somehow coming out.”
“We can talk more about this when I get home tonight,” he says in a low voice. “I have to get going. I can’t be late for a dinner that’s in my honor.”
I stare at him, stunned. And hurting.
He’s really leaving without me.
“I’ll see you later,” he says.
Then he walks right out of the kitchen, to go to his birthday dinner without me.
While I stand here, decorating his surprise birthday cake, like a fool.
Home. Does he think that’s what this is?
An empty mansion, where you never let anyone in to love you?
Not even a damn cat.
I told him I had the night off, but does he really expect me to just wait here for him to come home? From the birthday celebration that I’m not welcome at?
It fucking burns, this horrible, raw feeling in my chest. I knew he’d do this. I knew he’d cut right through me, if I let him.
And I did.
I stare at the cake as tears flood my eyes, until I can barely see it anymore. I set my tools down.
Then I bury my hands in the cake.
I’ve never smashed a cake before. It’s satisfying and depressing all at once.
But I just want to erase this cake, and this giant mistake, from existence.
Because now I know the truth.
That Harlan Vance cares much more about keeping his secrets than he does about keeping me.