Chapter 41
Quentin
I headed toward Stone—ready to discuss whatever security protocol crisis apparently couldn't wait until after my wedding reception—and there she was.
My brain stuttered. Stopped processing.
Because standing near the entrance, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else, was my sister.
Bianca.
The sister I hadn't seen in twelve years.
"Quentin?" Stone followed my gaze. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I have," I managed.
She looked different. Older, obviously. More polished. California-sleek in a designer dress that probably cost more than my first car. Her dark hair was styled in soft waves, makeup perfect, every inch the successful LA producer.
But her eyes—wary. Like she wasn’t sure she belonged here.
"Who is that?" Stone asked.
"My sister."
"Your—you have a sister?"
"Yes. Apparently, I still do."
I moved toward her, weaving through guests, tunnel vision locked on her and her alone.
Her gaze met mine, and her face lit up—relief and love, along with a touch of guardedness, all tangled up together.
"Bianca," I said, stopping a few feet away. Afraid if I got too close, she'd disappear. Vanish like she had twelve years ago.
"Hi, Quin." Her voice was soft. That California accent I'd never heard on her before. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic from the airport was—" She laughed, but it was wrong. Uncomfortable. "That's a lie. I've been sitting in a car outside for twenty minutes trying to convince myself to come in."
"You came." My voice came out rougher than intended. "I didn't think—when I called, you said you'd think about it. I didn't think you'd actually come."
"I almost didn't." She blinked a few tears from her eyes. "But I—I needed to see you, Quin. It's been twelve years since we’ve seen each other."
"I thought—" I stopped. Couldn't finish that sentence.
"I know." She blinked again and a tear spilled down her cheek. "I'm sorry. I had to leave. I couldn't be part of that world anymore. And if I stayed in contact, Dad would have used it. Would have pulled me back."
"Dad's dead."
"I know. I heard." Her voice cracked. "I wanted to come to the funeral. But I thought I wouldn't be welcome."
"You're my sister." The words hurt coming out. Twelve years of hurt. "You're always welcome. That's why I called. That's why I wanted you here."
We stared at each other. Twelve years of distance. Twelve years of barely speaking to each other.
Then she made this sound—half laugh, half sob—and closed the space between us. Her arms snaking around my neck.
I hugged her back. Hard. Like if I held tight enough, she couldn't leave again.
"I missed you," she whispered.
"I missed you too," I managed. "So damn much."
When we finally pulled apart, both wiping tears, I remembered Julia.
She was standing a few feet back, watching with that expression she got when she was trying not to intrude on something private.
"Bianca," I said, reaching for Julia's hand. "This is—this is my wife. Julia."
"Julia. It’s so nice to meet you. I—" She looked at Julia, then back at me. "I'm crashing your wedding. I should have RSVP'd properly. I just—I was in New York anyway, and I thought—"
"You were in New York?" My protective instinct kicked in immediately. "Already? Why? You never come back here. You hate New York."
Something flickered across her face. Fear, definitely. Anger, too.
"It's complicated," she said.
"Bianca." I used the tone that meant business. The one she used to hate when we were kids. "What's wrong? Why are you really here?"
Another dismissive laugh. "Can we not do this at your wedding reception? You're supposed to be celebrating—"
"Bianca."
"Quin, please. Not tonight." She glanced around at the guests, some staring now. "We can talk tomorrow. I promise. I'll tell you everything. Just—can we pretend tonight that I'm just your sister who missed you? Who wanted to meet your wife? Who wanted to be part of your life again?"
I studied her face. Read all the signs I'd learned growing up with her. The way she bit her lip when she was upset. The way her left hand twisted her bracelet when she was lying. The way her gaze darted around the room looking for danger.
Something was going on.
"You're in trouble," I said.
She shook her head. "No… I've just got stuff going on. It's my natural state." Her lips twisted and she shrugged. "Ask anyone who knew me at sixteen."
"Bianca—"
"Tomorrow. I’ll explain then." She grabbed my hand. "Please, Quin. Let it go. Let me just—let me be happy for you. For your marriage. For something good and normal and not—" Her voice cracked. "Okay?"
Every instinct screamed at me to push. To demand answers. To protect her from whatever had driven her back to the city she'd sworn never to return to.
But it was my wedding. And she was here. After twelve years, she was here.
"Okay," I said quietly. "Tonight. But tomorrow, you tell me everything."
"Sure," she agreed.
I pulled her into another hug. Felt her sigh against me.
"I love you, little sister."
"I love you too, big brother."
When we separated, she turned to Julia, trying to compose herself. "I'm so sorry. This is—gosh, this is such a terrible first impression. Hi. I'm Bianca. The long-lost sister who abandoned her family and shows up at weddings without properly confirming."
Julia took her offered hand. "Hi. I'm Julia. The wife who's just learning her husband has a sister. So, we're both surprising each other tonight."
A real smile broke over Bianca’s face. "He didn't tell you about me?"
I spoke up. "You told me you never wanted to be part of this world again. I respected that. I thought maybe you were happier if I just... let you go."
"Oh, Quin." She blinked back tears. "I was never happy about leaving you. Just—the rest of it."
"I know."
Julia, bless her, took charge. "Come on. You need champagne, food, and to meet Carlo. Fair warning: he's had a really rough twenty-four hours, so if he's less welcoming than usual, don't take it personally."
"Right. Family." She took a shaky breath. "Okay. Champagne first. Then I'll face everyone."
As we headed toward the bar, Bianca leaning on my arm, I caught Julia's eye over my sister's head.
She's in trouble, Julia mouthed.
I know, I mouthed back.
But tonight was for celebrating. For family. For having my sister back after twelve years.
Tomorrow, I'd find out what kind of trouble had brought her home.
But tonight—tonight I was just grateful she was here.