Mess
“Test.” On the stage, Quinn tapped the microphone. “Test. Hello?” Feedback screeched from the amp and quieted the party guests seated at round tables under the canopied tents she’d put up. All eyes fell on her like dozens of miniature spotlights.
She breathed in, smiled at the fireflies in the tall grassy field behind them, and tried again. “Hi, everyone. Thanks for coming out today. Before we move on to dessert, I’d like to say a few words in honor of Ginny and what being a part of this family means.”
Quinn fumbled with the piece of paper she’d penciled a jumble of thoughts on while struggling to figure out what to say today. But the tighter she clutched it, the more the flimsy page seemed to dissolve in her hand. A lot of good it’d done to prep ahead of time. Standing here now, she couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t focus.
Instead of clear words to speak, images of being with Cooper on his dock took center stage in her thoughts—the way he’d affirmed her writing as a gift, the journal he’d given her without a single doubt of what kind of legacy she could leave as an author.
Everything that’d happened these last few weeks closed in with a truth it’d taken her far longer than it should’ve to realize. While searching for the future she thought would give her merit, she’d abandoned the roots that had given her the kind that mattered most. Yet somehow, Cooper still saw it in her.
She gripped the microphone in the stand.
Soft chatter joined the shifting of chairs and utensils from an antsy crowd waiting for Quinn to remember how to make her voice work.
Her gaze roamed past the tables toward Chase in the back, nodding his assurance. Beside him, Dad had his arm around Mom, both beaming with a love that had never wavered. Not even for their stubborn daughter who’d lost her way home.
Quinn cleared her throat and stuffed the page of ramblings into her back pocket. “Let’s be honest. All of our families are a bit dysfunctional.” Chuckles erupted across the lawn. “We all make our share of blunders. We leave when we should stay.” Her eyes found Ginny’s. “We let down the people we love most when it’s the last thing we ever meant to do. Because the truth is, life can get pretty messy, things don’t go according to plan, and we might even lose sight of who we are.”
Chase gave her a pointed look from the back, and she laughed through the slightest film of tears.
“But here’s the thing I’ve learned about family. They welcome us anyway. Not because we have our emotions in check and everything in order, or because we’ve come back with some impressive rewrite of our life stories.” Her eyes ushered a wave of apology to Dad for thinking she needed to prove her worth to him through a job title.
“Instead, family embraces us home exactly as we are. With shaky knees and white-knuckled grips, while learning to trust things are going to be okay even when it feels like they aren’t. Because it’s right here—in the middle of the mess—where chapters of faith and forgiveness write the kind of stories worth living.”
Curbing another onslaught of tears, Quinn raised a glass of sweet tea in the air toward her cousin. “So, today, we celebrate the gift of family and the grace of finding our way home. Happy birthday, Ginny. I couldn’t be more grateful to share a small part in your story.”
While friends and family members clapped, Ginny ran up to the stage and clobbered Quinn in a hug. “You could never be just a small part.”
And there went the chance of repressing those blasted tears.
Once off the stage, with her composure regained, Quinn maneuvered through the tent toward a back table and an untouched plate of cheesecake bites. Embracing her roots included savoring sweet, heavenly comfort food, right?
She popped a bite into her mouth and sank onto a folding chair and into a world of blissful contentment. At least, until two older ladies decided to deem her table their own stage.
After a half hour of being sandwiched between them and their nonstop conversation, contentment evaporated with her fading sugar rush.
Mrs. Goodman patted Quinn’s hand. “And what about you, dear? Have you found Mr. Right?”
“Hmm?” Quinn looked up from the brownie crumbs left on her plate, apparently missing the most recent subject change carrying on around her.
“Parties like this remind me of wedding receptions. Don’t you just love a good wedding? Seeing the couple so in love.” The wiry-haired woman brought a wrinkly hand to her chest as if watching a fairy tale behind her thick glasses.
On the other side of Quinn, Mrs. Carlson dabbed a cloth napkin to her mouth. “Now, June, don’t you be forgetting about all the expectancy of the wedding night. Turns couples into a downright ball of nerves. Bless their hearts, they take off like a herd of turtles, don’t they?”
“Well, heavens to Betsy, Joan. Who can blame them? All that pressure. Especially with what girls put themselves through these days.” Mrs. Goodman set her teacup down and fanned a hand at her friend but then stiffened when her glance swept past Quinn. “Oh, but don’t worry about that, dear. They make this thing called cellulite cream.” She patted her hip. “Does wonders for the thighs.”
“Um . . .” Quinn sat up in her seat, scouring for an escape route. Or maybe one of those sparklers she could burn her ears with.
“Now you’re just scaring her, June.” Mrs. Carlson took Quinn’s hand hostage. “Don’t you listen to her nonsense. Just concentrate on finding someone you can be yourself with at the end of the day when your hair’s in knots and you don’t feel like shaving anywhere.”
Ignoring Quinn’s highly uncomfortable cringe, the woman went on. “You find a boy who’ll love you anyway, and you’ll find a marriage that’ll last long past the wedding night.”
“Right.” She slid her hand free. “I’m, um, just gonna—”
“There you are.” Chase towered above the table. A single arch of his charming smile turned the old women into mush. “I’m terribly sorry, ladies, but I need to borrow my sister for a moment. Urgent matter.” Completely straight-faced, he helped her up from the table.
Once out of hearing range, Quinn hugged his side. “You’re a lifesaver. You know that?”
“I’ll put it on your tab,” he teased.
She elbowed him. “How about I won’t make fun of you for falling all over yourself in front of Livy tonight, and we’ll call it even.”
He stopped, arms splayed. “It’s called being smooth, thank you very much.”
“Sure it is.” Quinn peered across the lighted trees toward the stage. “Is that why Livy’s flirting with that band member over there?”
Chase followed her line of sight and grimaced. “It’s a work in progress.”
“Uh-huh. Well, don’t work too slowly, or—”
“Quinn.” Nurse Murphy jogged up to them. “I was worried I’d miss you.”
“Miss me?”
“I assumed you were heading back to Hatteras tonight.”
“Oh. Actually, I’m not really sure there’s much left for me in Hatteras. Besides . . .” Quinn looked around with assurance. “I’m where I belong. I’m even thinking of starting my own magazine. Writing about family, maybe include some recipes.” Was she absolutely crazy for thinking anyone would read it?
A look of anticipation Quinn didn’t understand crossed her face. “Like your old blog?”
“Blog?” Her gaze bounced to her brother and back. “How did you—?”
“I was talking to Cooper about how your posts changed my life when I was in nursing school. He didn’t come right out and tell me you were the author. But after we talked again later, I picked up on the hints.” She grabbed Quinn’s hand. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to finally get to share how much your words impacted me.”
“Really?” She couldn’t be serious. “They were just silly stories about our family.”
“Not to me. Every time I read one, it was exactly what I needed to hear right then.”
Yet again, another moment with Cooper rose from inside her with a truth he saw before she ever could. Her words had mattered after all.
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you for telling me.”
Before she could get another word out, Aunt Loraine sauntered up from behind them. “Look who I found.”
A clear view of Brayden’s sweet face shook her equilibrium. It had wrecked her to say goodbye to him the night she left Cooper’s. The joy of seeing him now sputtered into confusion. “What’s he doing here? I mean, where is—?”
“Mama.” Brayden stretched his arms out for her, and her world came undone.
Tears brimmed for the umpteenth time. “Did he just say . . . ?” Her voice cracked.
Aunt Loraine handed him over and rested a hand to her arm. “That precious heart of yours makes you the best mama a child could have. No biological restraints can change that.”
Brayden nestled his fine hair under her chin, and Quinn held on to one more reminder that her dreams weren’t forgotten.
Grappling for stability, she faced Aunt Loraine again. “Where is he?”
“Gone, but he said to give you this.” She handed Quinn a road atlas with a bright pink sticky note on the front that read: Don’t think. Just open it.
“Oh, and this.” She held out the pen he’d picked up when they were at Watersview.
Despite the round of laughter the pen elicited, Quinn couldn’t shake the nervous anticipation mounting in her chest.
Brayden wrapped both arms around her neck while Chase helped her open the map to an earmarked page flagged by another sticky note.
Cooper had taped a printed-off map to the page that highlighted a route from her parents’ house to his. She ran a finger along the second sticky note. I know it looks short, but the way home rarely is. So, what do you say? Up for a drive? P.S. Don’t worry, QT. There are no Motel 6s along the way. I checked.
Torn between grinning uncontrollably and steadying her heart from racing, she wrestled to take this all in. He hadn’t left? He wanted to see her again? But what if—?
“Go.” Chase took the map and Brayden. “You don’t wanna work too slowly, or . . .” His obnoxious grin sloped to the left as he gave her a shove in the right direction.
She turned in time to avoid a collision with Mama, who held out Quinn’s purse. Because, of course, somehow the woman’s sixth sense knew she needed it. Too choked up for words, Quinn headed for her car.
Inside, an orange sticky note sat on top of a peach Cooper must’ve put in her cup holder. She lifted the fragrant fruit to her nose while reading his handwriting. I won’t even ask you to bring peach cobbler . . . this time.
He was lucky she didn’t have a cobbler to throw in his face. She shook her head, a smile so much harder to tame.
It stayed with her the entire drive to his place and up to the open front door. A little hesitant, Quinn let herself in. “Cooper?”
The call echoed against the high ceiling. Instead of a reply, a tiny meow brought Trooper into view rounding the corner.
As soon as Quinn squatted to the floor, purrs of affection greeted her as if she’d never left. “Hey, you, what are you doing here?” Hoping Cooper was nearby, she played it up. “Did that big bad stockbroker finally give in to your cuteness? I know, he’s a big softie, isn’t he?”
Trooper weaved in and out of her legs while trilling a shameless plea for more loving.
When no other sound stirred in the house, Quinn gave the cat one last rub and rose. Where was he? The delectable scent of coffee steered her around the bend to find a latte sitting on the entry table with a blue sticky note on it.
In case you weren’t convinced, yes, I’d fly to another city just to get a latte . . . but only for the right girl.
A twinge of heat pricked her cheeks at the memory of tripping all over herself that day in Brayden’s room when she’d talked herself into a hole. Just picturing Cooper leaning against the doorway in his dress clothes with that sideways grin fixed on her sent her pulse soaring. Same as then, she needed a distraction. One sip from her cup of pure bliss led to ten more.
She followed the sound of Trooper’s nails skittering across the hardwoods to a train of multi-colored sticky notes lining the floor, each one with an arrow pointing to the back door.
After a reluctant first step, Quinn jogged onto the deck toward one more note on the rail. She tore it off, her heart hammering.
Now that you’ve downed a solid half of your latte (I know you did), how about you join the guy anxiously waiting for you on the dock?
She peered through the hanging tree branches to a glimpse of Cooper in dark jeans and a loose fitting white dress shirt, facing the lake.
Though racing on the inside, Quinn took slow strides down the stairs and across the lawn. Cooper turned when she stepped onto the dock. A lake-scented breeze blew through his shirt and rustled the soft hairs that had grown a little longer around his ears since she first met him.
All this time, she’d been convinced finding love was like chasing after dandelion seeds blowing across an open field. But the moment his eyes anchored her, she knew searching hadn’t been necessary. Because whether she fully understood it or not, love had already found her.
“Cooper, I’m—”
“No, please.” He lifted a hand. “Let me go first.” He crossed the wooden boards but seemed to stop himself from reaching for her. After lowering his head a moment too long, he brought his hazel eyes to hers again and inhaled.
“Quinn, listen, we both made mistakes. My pride wanted me to believe you were the only one, but that’s not fair. I’ve been lying to myself for a long time.” His gaze strayed to the speedboat docked beside them. “The entire self-image I’ve built has been a front. Something that started out as an act but then turned into an identity I was too caught up in to let go of. Because, honestly? I was scared to find out who I was without it.”
Breaking the barrier that’d restrained him a moment ago, Cooper reached a hand to the back of her neck. “Until I met you.”
She breathed in at a touch even more affectionate than his words.
His fingers caressed the skin beneath her ear. “Now that I know who I can be with you and Brayden, I don’t want to pretend to be anyone else anymore.”
She slid her hand over his, not trusting her voice.
“I didn’t sign the contracts. I’m not going anywhere.”
“What? But what about your dad? Your investments?”
“It took a little work, but I managed to find an investor interested in buying me out once the business gets underway. This is what my dad would’ve wanted—for me to realize none of that is more important than my investment in my son. I belong here with Brayden. And you. If you’ll still have me.”
She couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. Was this really happening?
“You’ve called me out on being a mess more than once since you first showed up at my door.” His lips quirked just before the look in his eyes deepened. “Truthfully, I might never stop being one, which is why I’m positive you’ll always be the best part of me.”
Cooper dipped his head to meet her gaze. “I know we’ve made some wrong choices.” His maddeningly attractive grin hitched to the left. “But what do you say to starting over with the right one? You willing to take one more leap?”
Breathing with more freedom and certainty than she’d ever experienced, Quinn grabbed Cooper’s hand, ran to the end of the pier, and jumped into the unknown she no longer feared. Because, with him, she didn’t leap alone.
They bobbed to the surface. Cooper swiped his wet hair back, his face a smile of shock. “You’re not becoming an adventure junkie, are you?”
As his arms circled her waist, Quinn curled hers around his neck and flaunted his impish grin back at him. “Then who would be your Pepper?”
He tossed his head back, laughing. “I knew you’d come around eventually.” Sobering, he brushed off the water droplets coursing down her forehead. “I love you, Quinn Mary Beth. Every stubborn, grammar-correcting, stress-baking part of you.”
“I love you too.”
“You do, huh?” His dimples sank so far in his cheeks, they probably met on the inside. “Does that mean you’re willing to dive into more than just this lake with me?”
She pretended to debate the offer. “As long as you promise it’s not our last leap together.”
Cooper framed her face in his hands. No matter how many times she’d tried to convince herself a look wasn’t the same as an actual kiss, his eyes always proved her wrong.
“I promise, QT. It’s only the beginning.”