Chapter 31
Quinn
I wake up in Harlan’s bed, to Harlan kissing my neck and chest.
“I’m so sleepy,” I mumble.
“I know, but it’s time to go.”
“Nooo,” I moan softly as he kisses his way up my throat.
“Oh, yes. We have an appointment and we can’t be late.”
I groan as he lifts me off the bed. “But I love it in your bed,” I protest weakly, trying to wake up, and he chuckles. I love you. The words almost fall from my lips, but don’t.
He puts me on my feet, and pulls on his jacket. “You’ll be back in my bed in a few hours,” he assures me.
I pout.
It’s just after dinnertime; we ate, then I got dressed for this meeting he set up with some “very important” potential clients. But then I fell asleep on his bed, fully clothed.
After he showed up at my place last night and we had that big, emotional talk, he brought me back here and we spent the night making love. I didn’t get nearly enough sleep. But then we spent the morning sleeping in, and having sex all over again.
Then again in the shower.
Then he was on the phone making secret plans, while I hustled in the kitchen, stressing over the array of baking samples he told me I suddenly needed to make—samples which he had whisked away while we ate dinner, to be set up by whoever, wherever, for this mysterious client presentation.
Since it’s Christmas Eve, I really have to wonder what kind of client would want to meet us now, and if this is all some trick.
But Harlan won’t tell me a thing.
I can only hope that whoever is in charge of setting up my pretties gets all my instructions right. I’m used to presenting my baking to clients myself, whether in person or online, and fussing over every detail. All this mystery is killing me.
“Why can’t you just tell me who we’re meeting?” I complain as I slip into my shoes. “It would make it so much less stressful for me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Harlan’s eyes twinkle with mischief.
“You look like your brother Damian when you do that,” I inform him.
He frowns, then slides his hand up my skirt—and gently squeezes between my legs. “Don’t stress, baby. I’ve got you.”
“Oh my god, your hand is so warm.” I almost melt back onto the bed as he kisses my neck, his slight stubble making me shiver.
“I fucking love it when you’re all sleepy and soft…” He groans against my skin, squeezing again.
I moan.
I almost think he’s going to take me down. He’s been insatiable today. Ever since he asked me to move in last night, it’s felt different between us. More solid. Real.
Something to hold onto.
I’ve been picturing a future with both of us in it, and our little family around us.
I’ve been letting hope expand in my chest like a balloon, lifting me up.
“Come on, baby,” he purrs. “You can do this.” He scoops an arm around my lower back and propels me toward the door as I groan in protest. “This could be the meeting of your life.”
“Are we getting Quinn’s Cakes into Whole Foods?” I quip. “Trader Joe’s? Walmart?”
“I’m not sure why you think that’s so funny, but no.”
“I half thought maybe you were getting me the wedding cake gig for Jameson’s wedding after all,” I tell him suspiciously. “But when you asked for sample cupcakes too, I was thrown.” I made seven different flavors this afternoon, between Mom’s cupcake recipes and my cake samples. It was hard to decide what to focus on when Harlan would literally tell me nothing except I need you to make some of your best samples for some VIPs . “I don’t even know if these are potential cake clients, or clients for your business, or what,” I complain. “You’ve told me nothing.”
“Have I mentioned that you’re super cute when you’re impatient?” he asks as he leads me down the stairs to the foyer, where Manus is waiting.
“Yes,” I grump. “I must be adorable right now.”
We drive into the underground lot beneath the Vance Bayshore resort on Bayshore Drive, mere blocks away from Vance Tower, on the waterfront. I’ve never been here before. The resort isn’t finished yet; it’s undergoing a major renovation and expansion since the Vance family bought the property. So Harlan tells me as we park and get out of the car.
Then he takes my hand and leads me through a fire exit door to the outside, and up a set of concrete steps. We emerge onto a stretch of grass on the northeast side of the resort, facing the harbour and the public Seawall, a gorgeous walkway along the water.
“Um, Harlan? Where the heck are we going?” When we pulled into the resort, I assumed we were meeting these very special potential clients inside. Now that I see the people strolling with dogs and jogging along the Seawall in athleisure wear, I’m worrying I might’ve overdressed for whatever is about to happen. “Are we meeting with these people on a boat or something? Or having a picnic? Should I have brought a swimsuit?”
I wore high heels, which are now sinking into the grass.
Harlan gives me his solid arm and helps me along. He wore a suit, but he always wears a suit. “Patience,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“You’re maddening when you’re happy at my expense.”
“There are more elegant ways to get here, I promise. When the resort lobby is finished, there’s a grand hallway that’ll lead straight through and out the back of the building, to access the water side. But right now, it’s all under construction.”
When we reach the Seawall, we follow it around the corner of the building. There, what will obviously be a restaurant and a couple of commercial storefronts face the water. The sun is just starting to go down beyond Stanley Park to the west, and the dusk light gleams on the glass facades.
“This is going to be a wine bar,” Harlan says as we pass the first storefront.
“Nice. What a great location.” We pass the large restaurant in the middle. “What kind of restaurant will this be?”
“West coast fusion and seafood.”
“Yum. And what’s this one?” We reach the final storefront. It’s right on the corner, with an epic view of the mountains and Stanley Park.
“You’ll see,” he says, as he opens the door for me.
I step into the shop.
It’s been freshly painted a soft cream. It’s empty, except for some twinkly lights that have been strung around the room, giving it a romantic, fairy-tale glow. There are glass cases along the front counters, like you’d see in a café or deli.
Or a bakery.
“You know how sometimes the perfect thing is right under your nose, but you don’t see it?” Harlan says meaningfully, close behind me.
My nose is starting to tingle. I don’t dare dream that he’s about to say what I think he might be about to say, but my baking samples have been laid out on a single banquet table in the middle of the room. Presented beautifully, I can only imagine, by the resort staff.
I turn to him. “Are you talking about me?”
“Yes,” he says seriously. “But also…” He looks around. “Your dream bakery.”
“Harlan…”
“It’s perfect, right? I don’t think I understood until I walked in here how wrong that other space was for you. But I get it now.”
When I don’t respond, because I’m too overcome with emotion, he takes my hand again and starts showing me around.
“Picture it… The displays filled with your delicious creations. The tables arranged over here, with the velvet chairs you wanted…”
Oh, wow. He listened.
When I droned on and on about my bakery dream to him, describing what I envisioned, while we ate dinner one night, many weeks ago… He totally listened.
And it has a view of the water.
He leads me in a daze behind the counter and into the kitchen, which is three times the size of the tiny work space I had at Crave.
“The kitchen is fully installed. You just need to pick all the finishes. That’s the fun part, right?”
He watches as I turn in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. I have to blink away the moisture in my eyes to see straight.
“We can put in window seats, like you wanted. It’s really a blank slate. You can make it as beautiful as you envisioned. Your baby daddy might even throw in a generous decorating budget so you can make it extra pretty.”
When I’m still too blown away to respond, he asks, “What do you think?”
“I think when you say ‘baby daddy,’ it sounds extra ridiculous. And far too much like ‘sugar daddy’ for my liking.”
“About the bakery, Quinn,” he says, and squeezes my ass like it’s a warning that I’m being naughty.
“I think… it’s truly magical,” I admit, my voice all choked up.
He looks deep in my eyes. “It’s for you.”
I take a deep breath. Are we going down this road again? The one where he thinks he can just fix everything with his money?
“It’s very nice, Harlan. But?—”
“The best part is, you won’t have to deal with a lease or a boss, and I don’t even have to buy it. Because we already own it.”
“We?”
“Hello?” a woman’s voice calls out from the front.
Harlan offers me his hand again, and I take it hesitantly. “Oh, good. They’re here,” he says.
“Harlan,” I whisper, “what are you up to…?”
He leads me back out into the storefront—to find his sister coming in the front door, followed by all three of his brothers.
These are the extremely important clients he wanted me to impress?
“Oh, man,” I breathe. “You could’ve warned me.”
“I did.” Harlan glances at my red wool dress. “You look great. Very festive.”
I poke him in the back. From the look on his face, I think he’s genuinely confused about why I’m mildly panicking right now.
I may never truly understand this man.
But maybe that’s half the attraction.
I cling to his hand.
“Thank you for coming,” he greets his siblings, as I stand here, awkwardly.
“How could we not?” Jameson says sarcastically. “Top-secret, super last-minute meeting on Christmas Eve, and my fiancée isn’t invited? Sounds fun.” He eyes the single table decorated with cakes suspiciously, while the rest of them eye Harlan. And me.
Not one of his siblings can possibly miss that I’m holding his hand. I wonder if they can tell I’m rocking a little baby bump in this dress.
“Hello,” I say, giving them a little wave. Here I am again, the girl with the turquoise hair, but now I’m a brunette. Do they recognize me?
“This is Quinn,” Harlan says. “My girlfriend. And she’s pregnant.”
I just about die right there.
“He didn’t warn me he was doing this,” I say, my face heating. “I would’ve asked him not to blindside you.”
Savannah recovers first. “Quinn, it’s so lovely to see you again.” She strides forward to offer me a hug. “Congratulations! I’m so thrilled.”
Then Harlan’s brothers greet me in turn. They seem utterly shocked. But they congratulate me, and Harlan. A little warily, maybe.
I can’t blame them.
“Forgive us if we seem surprised,” Graysen says. “I didn’t know Harlan was seeing anyone. And I definitely didn’t expect this when he insisted we come down here tonight.” He gives Harlan a sharp look.
“I wanted to tell you all at once, in person,” Harlan says coolly. “We’re having a baby girl.”
“Oh my gosh. Yes!” Savannah hugs me again. “Another girl in the family. It’s about time!”
I laugh, elated that she’s so happy. “I suppose it is good news.” I look at Harlan’s brothers, and I can see this all sinking in for them, a little more slowly. “You’re all going to have a little niece in a few months.”
“When is the baby due?” Graysen asks.
“July,” I say, smoothing my slight belly.
“I also wanted to discuss something else,” Harlan says, and his siblings all look at him. “You all tasted a cake Quinn made, when you met her last time. Remember?”
“The vanilla cake with the fruit,” Savannah says. “I remember.”
“Quinn’s a fantastic baker and cake designer,” Harlan tells them. “I was just showing her this space. I already talked to Savannah,” he tells his brothers, “and she agrees that a bakery would be perfect here.”
Oh, shit. This is so uncomfortable.
I don’t see any of them jumping for joy at the idea.
“A bakery?” Graysen says. “I thought this was going to be a café.”
“But a bakery would be so much more… cozy,” Harlan says.
Jameson looks confused. “I’m sorry, did you just say cozy ?” I can tell by the looks on his brothers’ faces that this isn’t a word they’ve probably ever heard out of Harlan’s mouth before.
Harlan ignores him, telling Graysen, “It will be cakes and coffee.” He shows them all to the lovely table displaying samples of my best work. “Come, have a taste. Quinn’s desserts speak for themselves.”
“Oh, these are your cakes, Quinn?” Savannah immediately zeroes in on the cupcakes and scoops up a decadent dulce de leche. “I loved that cake you made for us.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Tell them about your vision for your bakery, Quinn.” Harlan shoves a sample of funfetti cake into Jameson’s hand.
“Well… my plan is to open an artisan bakery, to be the home of Quinn’s Cakes, my custom cake business. It would be like a café, but elevated. Beautiful front windows featuring gorgeous, colorful cakes each week, like works of art. And an array of cakes in the interior displays, including on-trend, seasonal, and classic flavors and designs. We’ll have a curated array of daily cupcakes and cakes by the slice as well, flavors that I know, from my experience working in several bakeries over the years, are crowd pleasers. And we’ll serve locally roasted coffee.”
“You said, ‘we,’” Savannah says. “Do you have partners?”
“My mom is my business partner. She’s the queen of cupcakes.”
“Well, I can attest to that,” she says, after biting into her cupcake.
“She’ll be thrilled to hear it.”
“Your mom made all these, Quinn?” Graysen asks, tasting a red velvet cupcake.
“The cupcakes are all from the recipes of Lorraine Monroe,” I say proudly, “my mom. All cake samples are mine.”
“You make quite a team,” Damian says, sounding impressed. To Graysen, he says, “We should be selling these in our restaurants.”
“Feel free to keep tasting,” Harlan says. “I just wanted you all to have a chance to see and taste more of Quinn’s hard work. And to be here when I showed the place to her, and told her…” He turns to me. “If you love the space, Quinn, and can see yourself being happy here running the bakery of your dreams, it’s yours.”
None of his siblings say anything. But there does seem to be an air of uncertainty in the room, like they’re all waiting to see how this plays out.
I admit, I am, too.
“But… you own it, though,” I point out.
Harlan comes closer to me and takes my hands. “Well, you’ll own it, too. Once you co-own the whole resort as a member of the Vance family.” You could definitely hear a crumb drop when he adds, “As my wife.”
“Oh. Fuck.” That’s Jameson, I think, and I’m vaguely aware of one of the other brothers elbowing him in the ribs.
I think I hear Savannah gasp.
But I’m too stunned and simultaneously breathless to say a word.
“You were right that I was keeping you from my family,” Harlan says, “because I was afraid of the truth about Darla coming out. I was wrong to ever ask you to lie for me.”
“Blackmail,” Jameson coughs.
“I was wrong to blackmail you,” Harlan amends, casting Jameson a dark look. “As you may have gleaned from my brother’s rude interruption, I told my siblings the truth about Darla. And the truth about you. But I didn’t tell them everything.”
I swallow nervously, my heart thrumming a mile a minute.
“The whole truth, Quinn Monroe,” he says devoutly, “is that I love you.”
I sniffle, starting to cry.
“I love the way you pour your heart into every single cake you make. You care so much about making your clients happy, and about your friends, and your mom. I love that you and Lorraine have so much love in your home, and you’ve welcomed me there. I love how determined you are to raise this baby well, and take care of everyone around you. And I love the way you leave your little messes around my house, and you forget where you put things, and you sneak food to my cat, and you make the whole place feel like a home. It’s not home anymore when you’re not there, Quinn.”
“I know,” I say shakily. “My home doesn’t feel that way anymore, either, because you’re not there.”
“So, I want to build a life with you, and our baby, and Lorraine. I want to start every morning with you, watching you grump around and then perk up over your morning coffee.”
I laugh, and he wipes the single tear from my cheek as he talks.
“And I want to come home to each other every night,” he says. “I want to watch you build your dream, and support you every way I can. I want us to raise our daughter together, and I want to pick her up after school every day, even if it means Graysen has to get used to me working from home.”
I glance at Graysen, who kind of rolls his eyes.
“And I want to have more kids with you, Quinn,” Harlan vows, “in a home that smells like your baking. I want you to be my wife. And I promise you that I’ll work every day to make sure you feel loved and cared for. Because you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You make people feel loved. Even me. And you deserve to feel that kind of love back, tenfold.”
He gets down on one knee in front of me, and I tremble with emotion.
“Please, will you marry me? I promise to be a wonderful father to our little girl.” Now he’s crying, and it totally does me in.
“Yes. I’ll marry you. Please don’t cry.”
He swipes the tears from his eyes as Jameson leans sideways to try to see his face—and Harlan’s tears, which maybe he’s never seen.
Then Harlan pulls out a ring box.
“I forgot to present you with the ring.” He laughs nervously. I’ve never seen him this way, such a mix of naked emotions. His fingers even shake opening the box.
Then he slides the ring onto my finger.
“Oh my god,” I gasp when I get a look at it.
Harlan looks up into my eyes again. “Do you like it? Lorraine thought you would.”
“Of course! I love it.” He gets to his feet and pulls me to him. Our kiss is wet with salty tears. “I’m a disaster right now,” I breathe when we pull apart. “You talked to my mom about this?”
“Of course,” he says.
“Can I hug my new sister?” Savannah asks. “I’m trying to be patient over here.”
Harlan steps back so Savannah can hug me, and Harlan’s brothers congratulate him. “It’s my mom’s ring,” I tell her, showing her the modest diamond ring. “The one my dad gave her when he proposed. I know it’s simple, but Harlan couldn’t have picked a more perfect ring for me.”
“He pays attention,” she says softly. “That’s how he shows you he cares. That focus of his.”
“Yeah.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “He does.”
I get a round of hugs from Harlan’s brothers. Then Graysen says, “Well, what a great way to start the holiday season. Can we take you both for a drink, to celebrate?”
Harlan looks to me before answering. “Quinn?”
“I would love that.” I lay a hand on my belly. “Non-alcoholic for me, of course.”
“I’ll arrange a table at Velvet.” Damian pulls out his phone and steps away.
“I’ll call Megan, to join us,” Jameson says. “She’ll be thrilled,” he tells me, then steps outside to make the call to his fiancée.
“How fitting,” I muse as Harlan takes me in his arms, and everyone else seems to fade away. He pulls me close, wrapping me up in his body, as if sharing this moment has been a real ordeal, and he needs me all to himself now. “Celebrating our engagement, right where we first met.”
“It’s strange to think that that night at Velvet was the first time we met,” he says. “I feel like I already knew you that night.”
I roll my eyes a little, teasing. “You can’t count stalking me as knowing me.”
“You’re right. You’re much more lovely up close than I could ever have imagined.”
“I love you, Harlan Vance,” I tell him, standing on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck, and bring my lips closer to his.
“You have no idea how much I adore you,” he says, his lips brushing mine. “I’m going to give you and our little girl everything I’ve got, and then some. I’ll never stop working to deserve you, Quinn.”
I kiss him softly, and promise him right back, “I’m going to spoil you rotten with my love. You’ll be incorrigible. An absolute monster.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “I’ll be your monster. Forever.”