Neanderthal Marries Human

“What happened to the money I gave you?” I asked, not caring what conclusions my dad would draw because, at some point, I knew I’d be able to set him straight. This thought caught me off guard and I wondered at what point over the last several days I’d started taking for granted that I would have a future relationship with my parents.

“I ran out,” she said. “It wasn’t enough.”

“You ran out.”

“I need to talk to Janie!” she shrieked.

“That’s not going to happen,” Dan said, shaking his head, his arms crossed in a wall of defiance.

“I’ll tell Janie you want to speak to her,” I said, I wanted to outright deny her request, but it wasn’t my place to do so. “It’s up to her.”

“Just…just let me talk to her and give me some cash, and I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”

“She was holding this when she broke through the window.” My dad chose this moment to withdraw a .22 pistol from the back of his pants. “I thought she was Janie at first, so I didn’t shoot.”

I let out a frustrated bark of laughter. Thank God my mother had made an appointment at Beau Boutique so Janie could try on white dresses.

“Listen, freak show,” Dan said; he had reached the end of his tether, and I wasn’t surprised. He knew Jem a lot better than I did. “You’re going to jail. You see this guy, Mr. Sullivan? Quinn’s dad? He’s the real deal, sweetheart. You broke into his house. He’s Boston PD. He’s a detective. That means he’s a badass. You’re going to jail for breaking and entering into a badass police detective’s house…with a gun you crazy bitch.”

Dan waited a moment, giving her time to start plotting a way to weasel out of the situation, then he added, “Not even Quinn can save you from that.”

Jem’s heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. Tears filled her eyes. No one was impressed.

Then, my dad read Jem her rights.

Just then my phone rang. I turned from the scene relieved for the distraction. I walked to the dining room. It was a New York number, but I didn’t recognize the owner. I debated a half second whether or not to answer.

Nothing could shock me at this point, so I picked up the call. “Yes?”

“Hi. Is this Quinn Sullivan?” It was a male, smoker, late twenties or early thirties, who sounded vaguely familiar.

“Who is this?”

“Uh, Elizabeth Finney gave me your card. I’m Nico Moretti, and I’m in need of a new private security firm.”

CHAPTER 18

*Janie*

“Nico Moretti? The comedian?” Katherine glanced from me to Quinn, her face a mixture of delight and disbelief. “That good looking guy who gets na**d at the end of his show?”

“How do you know he gets naked?” Desmond’s hands stilled, his pizza slice halfway between his plate and his mouth. He was frowning at his wife with a very Quinn-esque glare of displeasure.

It was after 10:30 p.m. and we were just finishing dinner. I’d been starving; thus, I was quiet through most of Dan’s recitation of the evening’s events. I got the impression that he blurred the facts surrounding Seamus’s visit—likely for Quinn’s parents’ benefit—but held nothing back when recounting Jem’s arrest.

Apparently, we’d missed quite a lot while I was trying on wedding dresses.

I was surprised by Jem’s attempt to break into their house, but then again, nothing she did really surprised me anymore. I hadn’t decided what to do about her request to speak with me. Therefore, I delayed my decision. It’s not like she was going anywhere.

I felt annoyed and guilty about the whole thing. I was annoyed because she was once again mindlessly casting her insanity and poor decisions all over the place and into my life. She was like an insane chef, tossing globs of rancid tomato sauce around a restaurant then telling everyone that dinner is served. The analogy made just as much sense as her behavior choices.

I felt guilty because I felt annoyed. Part of me would always hold out hope for her, for a relationship, and I wanted to feel more than annoyance for my little sister.

I’d tried to apologize to Desmond and Katherine but they waved me off, said that I was not responsible for the decisions of other people.

I think Katherine in particular just wanted to know more about Nico Moretti. Dan was happy to recount Quinn’s call, even though he hadn’t heard both sides of it. He also didn’t try to hide his excitement about Nico. It seemed Dan was a fan.

Katherine rolled her eyes at her husband’s expression then turned to confide in me. “He’s very hot.”

I smiled but didn’t comment, even though I agreed.

Quinn had been quiet during dinner. As far as I knew, if he accepted Nico Moretti as a client, this would be his first celebrity and his first new private client account in over four months. I wondered what he was thinking, but didn’t ask.

Quinn leaned back in his chair and picked up his whiskey. He seemed to be studying the contents of the glass as though he was pondering the manufacturing methods of Texas distilleries.

Therefore, I was surprised when he announced rather loudly, “I’m sorry.”

We all looked at him. I noted Katherine and Desmond shared a glance of confusion then shifted their attention to me. I looked to Dan. He also appeared to be perplexed.

“What’s that, dear?” Katherine asked, a gentle smile on her face.

“I’m sorry about Des. I’m sorry it happened and that I could have prevented it.” Quinn’s gaze moved between his parents.

A long moment followed. Katherine’s smile waned, her face fell, and a flash of pain cast a shadow over her features. Desmond held Quinn’s gaze, his expression stone, but that didn’t signify anything. Like Quinn, his thoughts were private and his emotions were like ghosts.

Quinn swallowed, his throat working with effort, and I was surprised to see that he made no endeavor to hide his anguish. I’d never seen him so transparently desolate, and my heart reached out to him. I didn’t realize it, but so did my hands and my arms. Before I quite understood that I’d moved, I was embracing his shoulders and holding him tightly.

He repeated on a whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

Katherine pressed her lips together and lifted her chin. Her eyes shone, and I knew she was holding back tears.

“Quinn….” she started, stopped, cleared her throat. “You couldn’t have known.”

He shook his head at his mother and asked on a tortured sigh, “Why don’t you hate me?”

A pained understanding claimed her features, like something in her broke and mended at his words, as though pieces of a puzzle finally fit together, and the picture they revealed was dreadfully wrong.

“Baby, I could never hate you. We have never hated you. We may have been lost to our grief, we may have lashed out at you in despair, but we never hated you—not ever. Loving unconditionally brings only joy. You are our son, and when Des…when Des….” Her chin wobbled and two tears rolled down her cheeks.

Katherine quickly wiped them away and swallowed before continuing. “When Des died, our hearts were broken, and so was yours; so was Shell’s. We should have taken comfort in each other instead of mindlessly casting blame. That’s on us, baby. That’s not your fault. And I am so, so sorry we didn’t do something about it before now.” The end of her sentence was lost on a sob and she buried her face in her hands.

Quinn shook his head, but before he could challenge his mother’s words, his father reached over and gathered his wife in his arms, pulled her to his lap, and tucked her head against his shoulder.

Then he turned his eyes to Quinn. I heard and felt Quinn’s small intake of breath at his father’s expression, perhaps because it was so full of love and compassion.

Then Desmond spoke. “Blame is a thief. It robs us blind while it wastes our time, time we could be spending as a family, making memories, supporting each other. Your mother and I don’t want to miss another day with you, or your sister, or Janie. You need to cut that shit out. You need to let go of it, because your mother needs you…I need you. And I think you might need us too.”

***

It was past midnight by the time we finally made it back to the hotel. I was tired, but Quinn was exhausted. Therefore, on the ride home I demanded that he rest his head on my lap in the back of the limo. I traced the curve of his eyebrows, the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw with my fingertips until he fell asleep.

I was sad to wake him, but relieved at the possibility of stripping na**d and wrapping myself around his equally bare body, skin to skin, as we both fell into a deep slumber surrounded by each other’s warmth.

When we arrived at our room, I was surprised to find Dan just leaving the suite. He’d been with us throughout dinner, but left shortly after Quinn’s apology and the subsequent heavy discussion.

“Hey….” Dan stopped just outside the door, gave me a small but sincere smile, and nodded once at Quinn. “I did a sweep of the room. Everything looks clear. I’ve got four guys coming up in a few minutes for the night shift; two will be inside, two will be out here. Also, I’ve notified hotel security that we’re taking extra precautions.”