Chapter 9

Vivian

"You need help packing?" Lizzie asks from the phone screen.

"No, thanks. Though, I"m beginning to forget you exist outside of a device!" I waggle a finger at her. "If I accept Q"s proposal, I"ll have a space for you to come visit me."

"You"re considering it?" she cries.

"I am," I confess.

Her forehead wrinkles. "Have you seen Felix since the uh... wedding?"

That was three days ago. "I haven't seen him at work. He hasn't been home, either." Not that I'm complaining. I pop a shoulder. "He paid the rent for the rest of the month on this place. Now that our wedding is off, there"s no way can I live here." I came home today and realized I had to start packing.

Ideally, I'll be out of here before he returns. But I've been so exhausted, I haven't been able to muster the energy to get my stuff together.

"Where are you going to move to?" Lizzie's question makes me sigh.

"I'm not sure."

There's silence on her end. When I glance at her on the screen, it's to find a worried look on her face.

"Honey, don't worry. I'll figure it out." I paste a smile on my face, but I don't think I"m fooling her because her frown deepens.

"Vivi, where will you go?" she probes again.

"I… uh… could look up some of my friends from high school?" I wince.

I wasn't ever that popular. Lizzie"s the one who had a lot of friends. I preferred the company of colors and my canvas, or poems, to real people. Not much has changed now that I'm grown up. Unless you count watching Pornhub or reading spicy romances as a hobby.

"Hmm"—she frowns—"you sure?"

No, I'm not. "By the way, there are trials being run at Johns Hopkins near Washington, D.C. for ALS. If Dad got onto one of them, it would be experimental, but at least it would extend his life expectancy and improve his quality of life." I say it, hoping to distract her, and I"m rewarded when her features brighten.

"That sounds amazing, but wouldn't it be expensive?" Her shoulders sag.

"It would." I nod. "Except Quentin already got him accepted for it and has agreed to foot the bill."

"He has?" Understanding dawns on her face. "Oh Vivi, I see your reasoning behind considering his proposal now, but—" She purses her lips, "— is this what's best for you?" Her forehead furrows. "You agreed to marry Felix because you thought it'd help you save money and look what happened."

I wince. "It won't happen again. Quentin won't stand me up at the altar." Given a choice, he'd consummate the marriage before the wedding night. I'd agree to that, too... No, I'm telling her that.

"But you don't know this guy. You only just met him," she protests.

"I know enough. I know he's trustworthy and that, as his wife, I"ll have access to money, which we need badly."

"I can't let you sacrifice yourself again, Vivi. I can't!" Her chin trembles. "You're young. You should be going to university and studying for your degree in fine arts," she bursts out.

"Degrees are overrated. Besides, I got to paint the interior of the pizza shop, and the operations director of the company loved it and promised me I can paint the interiors of the other shops, too," I offer.

"Not that he paid you anything extra for it." Her scowl deepens.

"I… Uh… Plan to talk to him about it." I hunch my shoulders. "You don't have to worry about it or anything else." I shove the rest of my clothes into my suitcase and straighten. "I'll figure it out Lizzie, I promise."

I head over to the kitchen and pour myself the last of the boxed wine. I take a sip from the glass, then wince.

"That bad?" she asks sympathetically.

"It's not vinegar… yet."

She snickers. The intercom buzzes, and she frowns. "Were you expecting someone?"

I shake my head and press the button on the device. "Hello?"

"Vivian?" a woman's voice asks. "Vivian Wells?"

"Yes?" I say cautiously.

"I'm Summer Sterling, a friend of Quentin Davenport."

"Okay?"

"I know this is a surprise, but do you mind if we come up?"

"We?"

"Hello," another woman chimes in, "I'm Zoey Malfoy. Also, Quentin's friend. We would love to speak with you, if you have a little time?"

"Is Felix's father's name Quentin?" Lizzie whispers loudly.

I throw her a look, then speak into the intercom, "Did Quentin send you?"

"Yes, but only because he felt you'd be on your own and might need a bit of company," Summer answers.

"I promise, we are legit. We'll show you our ID and everything. We're here because he's worried about you, but he knows you don't want to see him… Yet," Zoey adds.

"Also, we have wine."

"Wine?" I say slowly.

"A very good 2009 Merlot." Summer's voice is persuasive.

"A 2009? That would taste better than the vinegar you were having earlier," Lizzie exclaims.

I scowl at her. "What do you know about wine?"

She coughs. "Anything would be better than your boxed wine."

"Hmm."

Before I can reply, Zoey chimes in, "Also, cupcakes and tacos."

Tacos!I exchange glances with Lizzie again.

"Keep me on the line, so I can make sure they are who they say they are," she insists.

"No, absolutely not, you need to get back to practice."

She sighs, "You're right, but?—"

"I'll message you after."

"Message me in ten minutes, and let me know you're fine, else I'm coming over to join the party."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, grandma." I disconnect the call, slip the phone into the pocket of my jeans, and buzz them in.

A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door. I throw it open to see a pretty, pink-haired woman with a big smile on her face. She's holding onto a pram with a sleeping baby in it. Behind her is a taller woman with blonde hair pulled up into a tidy knot. She's wearing glasses and a skirt suit and has a satchel in her hand. It looks like she came here directly from work.

The pink-haired woman beams at me. "I hope you don't mind us coming by. I'm Summer, by the way."

I hold out my hand. "I'm?—"

"Vivian. Quentin's told me all about you." She eschews my hand, steps around the pram and throws her arms about me. Her excitement at meeting me is infectious, and I find my lips curving. She steps back and her smile grows broader.

The other woman waves at me. "I hope you don't mind our gatecrashing like this?"

"Quentin called me this morning and gave me a quick overview of the situation," Summer offers.

"Situation?" I'm unable to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

"He explained you were special to him and that it would help if we dropped by to keep you company," she adds.

"Did he now?" I can't keep the skepticism out of my voice.

Does Q know I don't have that many friends? Is this his way of ensuring I didn't start overanalyzing things in my head like I want to? But that's not possible; he barely knows me.

And yet… When my gaze locked with his that first time, it felt as if he were seeing straight through to my insecurities and my deepest desires. Like he knew me better than I know myself. And I felt like I already knew him, though I'm positive it's the first time I saw him.

"If you're not comfortable, we'll leave." Zoey scans my features.

"It's not that. I'm just…" I raise a shoulder. "I'm surprised he'd reach out to you. Or that he'd have the time to do so, given we met three days ago."

Zoey opens then shuts her mouth. "I didn't realize—" She coughs, then shoots a sideways glance at Summer, who's looking at me with shrewd eyes.

"Q mentioned the circumstances of your meeting were unorthodox." She rolls the buggy back and forth without conscious thought, in the way mothers often do when they soothe their child. "But he didn't tell us the details, so you know."

I'm not sure what to say. It's not like I know these women. Though, I suppose I appreciate Q looking out for me.

"Q is friends with my husband Sinclair Sterling. It's how I met him. He struck me as someone who"s a loner, by choice?—"

"So of course, Summer goes out of her way to make sure he"s invited home for dinner every chance he gets." Zoey rolls her eyes.

"Often, it was me and Sinclair, and my sister Karma and her husband Michael, and then there was Q. My husband met Q after he retired from the Marines and joined the Davenports. They became friends very quickly, and that's unusual for my husband. Sinclair doesn't trust people easily, nor does Michael. But they both trust Q, enough to ask him to join us for dinner. I'd like to think it was my husband and Michael who convinced Q there"s life after the Marines," Summer adds.

"Karma... You don't mean Karma West Sovrano, the designer?" The name Karma is unusual, so I venture a guess.

Summer nods, and her features shine with pride.

"Oh, my god, I love her style! I found one of her originals in a charity shop, which was the only way I could afford it at my wedding—" I stop. "I mean, my almost-wedding."

The baby yawns and stretches. He opens his eyes and looks at me in the way little kids have, when they're fascinated by what they're seeing. He blinks, then holds up his arms. And that's it, I'm a goner.

"Aww, you're a cutie." I glance at Summer. "May I?"

She nods and smiles, then bends and picks him up. She kisses him, then hands him over. I cuddle the baby, who continues to stare up at me. He smiles suddenly, and my heart melts further. "What's his name?"

"It's Matthew, but I call him Matty." She beams.

I carry the kid inside and the women follow with the pram. "Hey, baby, you're such a cutie pie." He blows a bubble, then raises his hand and tugs on my hair.

"Oh, Matty, don't do that." Summer walks over and tries to disentangle my hair from his little fist, but I laugh.

"It's fine, really." I sit down in one of the armchairs and continue to gaze into Matty's startling blue eyes. They are clear in the way babies' eyes can be. He pulls on my hair again, and when I lower my head, he bats at my cheek with his other hand. He gurgles, and a wave of love overpowers me.

I rub my cheek against his hair and breathe in his fresh baby smell. Baby powder and milk and that indefinable something that"s innocent and intangible and yet, so evocative.

"He likes you," Summer says in a soft voice.

I glance up to find the two of them are standing. "Oh please, sit down. Sorry I didn't ask you to make yourselves comfortable. Little Matty distracted me."

"You're good with kids." Summer takes a seat on the settee.

"I took care of my sister, after my mother passed," I murmur.

"I'm sorry; that must have been difficult for you." Her tone is sympathetic.

I shake my head and slide my finger into Matty's little fist. "It was a long time ago."

"Where is your sister?" Zoey wanders around the apartment. Most of the furniture was left by the previous occupant, and the rest of the stuff belongs to Felix. Except for the paintings on the wall and the overloaded bookcase I rescued when my neighbor threw it out.

"She's at the Royal Ballet School."

"She must be very talented," Summer says with a smile.

"She is." I tickle little Matty's stomach, and he laughs. I can't stop myself from laughing with him.

"This is striking." Zoey comes to a halt in front of the painting on the wall next to the bookcase.

"Thanks," I murmur.

She shoots me a glance over her shoulder. "Did you paint it?"

I nod. "I created it in one night."

Zoey gasps. "That's incredible."

"Not really. I like to mull over the ideas in my head, until one day, I know it's time to put it on canvas. Then, I can't stop until it's done." I bounce Matty on my knee, and he giggles. "I don't get much time to do that though, because of my job at the pizza parlor."

"It must be difficult to work a day job and also paint," Summer says.

"It is." I hand Matty to her. "At least I'm not a waitress anymore, so that's something." I shrug.

"Managing a team isn't easy," Zoey adds without turning around. She seems to be entranced by my painting. A flush of pride squeezes my chest. I'd forgotten how good it felt to have someone respond to my art.

"It isn't. Most days, by the time I finish, I'm emotionally drained. I end up coming home and falling into bed, then getting up the next day and doing it all over again. It's the nature of the job." I choke out a laugh. "Sorry, I don't mean to overshare."

"Oh, you're good." Summer smiles up at me.

Lizzie is my closest confidant, but with her, I'm in the role of her bigger sister, the one who takes care of her and pays her bills. I can't allow myself to show weakness with her. I need her to know she can depend on me and trust that I have everything under control. Then, Felix entered the picture, and he was my best friend. He's the only one who knows about the money issues I have. And now, I'm not sure where I stand with him.

I've never had a strong circle of girlfriends. Looking from Summer's sympathetic face to Zoey's engrossed one, I realize what I've missed.

Zoey turns enough that she can meet my gaze. "I'm a book editor; I get to meet a lot of authors. And many of them work a day job while writing at night, and I"ve seen, up close, how difficult it can be to juggle both."

"It is." I nod. "And I'll be the first to admit, I haven't been painting lately." Of late, I haven't been able to look at my paints and my canvases without feeling sick to my stomach. The more time that passes between painting sessions, the harder it"s getting to find my muse. It"s like some muscle inside of me is weakening with disuse. "I"ve often wondered if there isn't an easier way to earn enough to pay my bills"—and take care of my family— "while keeping in touch with my art."

I stand up and join Zoey to take in the abstract she's turned back to. "That"s the last one I did."

"Do you have more?" she asks in a considering voice.

I nod. "A few."

"Enough for an exhibition?" She shoots me a sideways glance.

"Oh, no, no—" I laugh. "I'm nowhere near ready to exhibit."

"Would you mind if I took a picture of this and showed it to a friend of mine who runs a gallery in Soho? He's always on the lookout for emerging artists."

I quash my budding excitement and pretend a nonchalance I don't feel. "When I was younger, I'd send pictures of my creations to agents. I was so hopeful." I sigh. "Eventually, when I didn't hear back from them, I gave up."

Of course, that was before Dad's ALS worsened and any spare time was gobbled up with caring for him.

The baby becomes restless, and Summer rubs circles around his back. He calms, then begins to warble again. Then, he waves a hand in my direction.

Summer laughs. "He's trying to tell you how much he loves being with you."

"I love him, too." I walk back to her and kiss Matty's forehead.

Zoey takes a few pictures of my paintings, then walks over to stand next to us. "Are you coming to watch Quentin's match tomorrow?"

"Match?" I rub my fingers over Matty's downy-soft hair, then laugh when he wrinkles his nose at me.

"He's fighting Ryot, who happens to be an accomplished boxer, himself."

"And is Quentin a boxer, too?"

"He used to be but hasn't competed in a professional capacity in a while." Summer lays the baby down on the settee and pats his tummy. "Which is why my husband tried to talk Quentin out of it, but Q feels he owes it to Ryot."

"Why"s that?" I glance up, my curiosity piqued enough that I tear my gaze off of the little mite to look at her.

"Oh, that's not my story to tell." Summer meets my gaze.

"I respect that." I look between them. I could do with some guidance right now. Maybe they can give me some insight into Quentin that'd help me decide on how to respond to his proposal? "Somehow, the fact that you won't share the details of his story gives me the confidence to share how he and I met."

Zoey sits down on the other side of the baby. "Why? Did you have an interesting meet-cute?"

"You could say that." I chuckle.

"Ooh, tell us, please," she begs.

I sit down in my armchair and cross my legs. I've just met these women, but something about them inspires confidence in me. They don't seem like the type who'd take advantage of my sharing with them. Also, my head's whirling from everything that"s happened so far. Perhaps talking about it will put things in perspective. "I was supposed to marry his son, but he stood me up at the alter. Enter, his father, who offers to marry me." Hearing the words from my mouth makes it all feel real and also, so very unreal. Can this be happening to me? Am I going to go through with this?

"What?" Zoey looks at me wide-eyed. "You were going to marry his son?"

I nod.

"Now you're going to marry his father?"

"Oh, no, no, I haven't agreed to anything. Besides, this only happened three days ago."

"Three days?" Zoey bursts out. "You two have known each other for three days?"

I manage a small smile.

Summer's features take on a contemplative look. "When Quentin called me, it didn't feel like he'd just met you. In fact, he seemed very concerned about you."

"Not surprising, considering he and his son lowered a double-whammy on me in one day." I toss my head.

"Woman, all this happened and you're still standing?" Zoey rises to her feet. "Speaking of, now would be a good time to open that bottle of wine." She reaches for her satchel and pulls out a bottle of red.

I rise to my feet, head to the kitchenette, and grab the wine opener from the drawer. When I turn, I find that Zoey has followed me. She takes the opener from me, and waves toward the living area. "Go on, take a seat. I'll bring you a glass."

"You'll find them on the top shelf on the far right." Leaving her to deal with it, I return to my position on the chair.

"This must be a lot. First Quentin and his son, then us," Summer mutters in sympathy.

"I suppose…" I pull my feet up under me. "I should be freaking out more, but maybe… I'm numb?"

My phone buzzes. I pull it out from the pocket of my jeans and read the message.

Lizzie: I'm coming over!

Shit, I forgot to text her.

Me: Noooo. Sorry. Sorry. I'm good. Summer and Zoey are sweet. I'm hanging out with them. Talk later

Lizzie: *Heart emoji"*

I slide the phone into my jeans' pocket. The baby starts to fuss again. Summer takes him in her arms, then nods toward the pram. "Can you get me his sippy cup? It's in the bag hanging over the handle." I head over, fumble around in the bag until I find the cup, then walk over and hand it to her. She uncaps it, and the baby reaches for it and latches his mouth around the spout.

"Gosh, you're one thirsty boy, aren't you?" she coos.

"Here's our sustenance." Zoey hands me a glass of wine and places a glass of water in front of Summer. "She's the designated driver," she explains, then takes a sip from her own. She sighs. "I needed that." She sits down in the chair next to mine.

I take a small sip from my glass. The taste of plums, cherries, and a hint of pepper underlain with the tannic taste of red wine coats my tongue. "Wow, I've never tasted anything like this."

"It's from Sinclair's personal collection." Summer laughs. "After not being able to drink while I was pregnant, then breastfeeding this boy, he insists I drink the best."

"And since she's driving" —Zoey waggles her eyebrows at Summer—"I get to drink her share, too. But coming back to the subject at hand…" She turns to me. "How do you feel about everything that's happened so far?"

"Truthfully?" I rub at my temple. "I'm still making sense of it." I look between the women. "Also, I'm not sure I should be sharing all of this with you two, considering we just met, but?—"

"Oh, honey, it must be so disorienting for you to be faced with such a decision." Zoey touches my shoulder. "I can only imagine how confused you must be feeling."

Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I blink them away.

"I'm so sorry if our coming here upset you—" Summer begins in a concerned voice, but I wave her off.

"No, really. I am grateful you guys are here. My sister… I'd have loved to talk to her about this, but she needs to focus on her ballet classes. And my father's unwell and"—I sniffle—"I never managed to form close friendships with the girls I went to school with. That's what comes of being a loner. I guess it's because I had to mature before my classmates. While they were acting like kids, I was already a mom to my sister." I pause. "And then… Felix came along, and he became my best friend. I made the mistake of agreeing to marry him. And now, I don"t think we"re even friends anymore." My eyes water and I look up at the ceiling to keep the teardrops at bay. "So, although I"m glad he pulled out before we got married, I feel like I"ve lost my only friend." I take a shuddering breath. "You think you don't need anyone, and when you realize you do, it's too late."

They exchange glances, then Zoey takes my glass, places it on the table, and takes my hand in hers. "It's not too late. We're here, and we want to be your friends."

"We do." Summer nods.

"Right, because I'm so pitiful. I'm thinking of marrying a man I met three days ago, and I don't have friends of my own, so I'm crying on the shoulders of perfect strangers, who are his friends." I swipe at the moisture on my cheek.

Zoey leans forward in her seat. "For what it's worth, I already know you're a badass. No one who paints like that"—she stabs a thumb over her shoulders— "isn't. Also, my instincts never lie. I already know we're going to be great friends, regardless of whether you marry Quentin or not. And full disclosure? I'd rather you did marry him."

I incline my head.

"What Zoey is trying to say is that Quentin not so subtly wanted us to come so we could convince you that he"s right for you." Summer half smiles. "And for the record, I firmly think whether you do or not is your decision. But like Zoey, I already know we're going to be good friends because I like you, and"—Matty kicks at her arm, and she looks down at the baby with a smile— "and yes, so does Matty, as I already told you."

"Quentin sent you two to convince me of his merits?" I ask slowly.

Zoey shifts in her seat. "He never said it openly. Well, not to me, because he spoke to Summer, and Summer asked me to come along. And I was curious because... Well... In the little time I've known Quentin, I thought he was a grouchy bastard who seemed dissatisfied with most things, and to find out he wants to marry you... I was curious."

"And what do you think now?"

"That you're too good for him."

I chuckle. "Thanks."

"No, really, you are. You're taking care of your family, and working, and trying to carve out a career in a competitive, creative industry?—"

"I haven't been painting much," I remind her.

She cuts her hand through the air. "You've been trying, and that's what matters."

"I've known Quentin since he returned from the Marines and joined the Davenports. He has his faults but"—Summer pauses to gather her thoughts— "but he"s the kind of guy you can trust to have your back when the chips are down."

"Not long ago, Karma was unwell." Summer's smile dims. "My sister was born with a hole in the heart. The condition was exacerbated when she got pregnant... a second time." She swallows. "I was with her when she collapsed at my place, less than a month ago. I tried to call her husband, then mine."

Zoey gasps. "Oh, my god, Summer! I had no idea."

Summer nods. "When neither answered, I called Q. And this, despite the fact my husband has six other very close friends and business partners he went to school with. I've known them longer than I've known Q." Summer pauses to take a deep breath.

"Sinclair and his friends run a company called 7A Investments," Zoey interjects.

"I could have called any of them, but Q"s the person I reached out to." Summer's voice grows contemplative. "Something about him inspires confidence, and it"s not about his age. Well, not only. He feels so solid. Like he's seen life, and he knows what to do in an emergency, you know?"

I nod dumbly. I know what she means. It's the same feeling that gripped me when my eyes met his. Oh, there was lust, certainly. But also, this something inside of me that insisted he'd take care of me.

"He happened to be working from home that day. Luckily, he doesn"t live far from me and Karma. He dropped everything and arrived at our place as she was being loaded into the ambulance. I got in with her, and he followed us to the hospital. He stayed with me until Sinclair and Michael arrived. If it hadn't been for him, I don't know how I'd have survived." She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. "He and Karma have had a special relationship ever since. And her husband and mine trust him even more."

"That's"—I clear my throat—"quite a story."

"I'm not telling you this to influence you— Okay, maybe I am." Summer laughs. "But I'm grateful for Q. I trust him. And if you want to marry him, I'd say follow your instinct."

"Okay, wow, I didn't know about that incident." Zoey stares at Summer wide-eyed. "It explains why he's so tight with you guys."

"All I"m saying is, don't judge him until you've given him a chance to share his side of the story." Summer smiles gently.

"I think you have a point. But"—I bite the inside of my cheek—"don't you find it weird that he proposed to me within minutes of meeting me, and that he's much older than me? Not to mention, I was going to marry his son."

"Maybe." Summer shrugs. "I admit, it seems impulsive. And I might add, out of character for him. But I think that's because he decided to follow his instinct and not waste time second-guessing himself."

I turn to Zoey. "And what do you think, Zoey? What would you do if you were in my position?"

She meets my gaze without flinching. "I think you're right to be suspicious. I would be, too, if someone walked off the street and proposed to me. But it's also dependent on the man—and I do happen to think Q is very personable. And hot"—she snickers— "so I'd get to know him better before making a decision. In fact,"—she snaps her fingers— "I have an idea. Q"s participating in a fight tomorrow. Wanna come with me?"