One Year Later

Quinn, you promised.” I drop the camera down to my side and try my best version of a pout.

“You asked me when my brain was being ruled by my dick. Doesn’t count.”

“Come on, just one.”

He offers a begrudging smile, not what I was hoping for, but I snap the frame all the same. I could do this all day, staring at his beautiful features. My eyes flick down to his scar, but it doesn’t set my mind to turning anymore. I’ve seen everything behind Quinn, and it hasn’t defeated me. I’m stronger for it, and that’s the source of my courage to get up and press forward in our life every day.

My finger sets the shutter snapping as his slick smile resorts back to his usual hard line.

“When are you flying back?” I ask, backing off and walking alongside him through Hyde park.

“Tomorrow. Nate has a meeting set with Marco Mortoni. I need to be there, Em. You know I do. We’ve been working towards this for the last year.”

“I know. I’m pleased it’s gone according to plan.”

My smile is genuine because this meeting will mark a milestone in his business. Quinn and Nate have been working to clean up the business and cut the criminal interests he used to rely so heavily on. When we’d settled into a kind of rhythm with each other he started to open up about the Cane world. It was shocking, enough so that I was terrified of what I’d gotten into at first, love or not. But then he told me of his future plans. It’s taken a while, and it will be another year or two, if ever, before he’s resolved everything, but it’s another reason to hope for better. For safer.

“You’ll be over on the weekend, though. The funeral is next week.” Quinn’s mention of the funeral sends a shudder through me. Quinn’s father died nearly a month ago. He’s been in London with me ever since, barely talking about it. He arrived back from Chicago, announced he was dead, and then moved onto the next topic of conversation.

I never met his dad, but he was always a presence in Quinn’s life, a shadow casting him in the shade. And even though he’s now dead, I still find myself hating him for what he put his family through. I might never know the entirety of what he did, but I understand enough.

Quinn has hardly ever spoken to me of him, always hiding his true feelings, and I know not to push him on the subject, but I want to. Maybe I will one day. I’ll get deeper in and find the real reasons behind this empire he heads, but he gets the hard, stone-like gaze when I mention anything, building walls I can’t get through.

So, for now, I steer clear and wait for the right time.

The funeral will mean I’ll have to face Nate again. He’s the only other person who knows the full truth about me and Josh and what happened that night. I was surprised at how calm he was the first time we met when I went back to Chicago with Quinn. It would have been easier if he’d shouted or got angry, but he’s been stoic with me the handful of times I’ve seen him since. Less than happy, but not hostile at least. I’m hopeful that he won’t be like that forever, though. Out of all three Cane boys, he always seemed the least affected by the family name, or the business he works in. I hate the feeling that I pushed him further into it through my actions.

“Will Angie be there?” I ask, moving around the flower beds to get to the far side of the path. He frowns at me, watching my feet as if I might fall any minute. Thankfully, I don’t.

I know that realistically she can’t be there. Quinn’s mother hasn’t made it out of her room for years, but I feel she should be there to see her monster of a husband laid to rest. Not that she really knows what he was like according to Quinn. Not anymore.

“No. But Maria reports that she seems calmer these last weeks.” He pulls me back to him, linking our fingers. “I’m sure you’ll be able to visit with her at Christmas. She liked you.”

“That’s just you trying to give me another reason to spend Christmas in Chicago.” He smiles at that, making me raise my camera quickly. He pushes it away before I get a bloody chance at another shot, and keeps us walking.

 I gaze up at the ominous looking winter clouds, thinking about her. I met Angela Cane a few months ago when she was, as Quinn calls it, having a better moment. She was like a classic theatre star, ready to tread the boards. I’ve seen the darker side of her as well. The state she finds herself in when her medication wears off, or when the demons take hold. It’s a stark reminder of why I must keep strong in this world I’m now in.

“Anyway, I’ve been in London more than Chicago the last few months,” he says. “All because of you. I can’t be here all the time, Em. We’ve talked about that.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…” I let go of my camera and take his other hand, too, walking backwards to pull him along the path. “It’s just that...” I sigh, feeling agitated that we can’t compromise in our mixed-up life.  

“This is fucking ludicrous.” I halt, wondering what he’s talking about. “I would have thought staying here would be harder for you. Chicago would be simpler all round.”

I know what he’s talking about—staying in the same city that I murdered in, a constant reminder of what I did. But for me, it’s part of my penance. I’ve learnt to survive through the guilt. Quinn’s shown me that I have to.

I turn and look up at the clouds again, wishing there was something to make this all seem as simple as he professes it to be. I killed to protect him, and I won’t take that for granted. He’s in my life, irrevocably connected, and I make it a personal goal every day to show him how we can make the best of both worlds—the empire he runs and is slowly forging a new path with, and my small business, capturing moments of happiness for all to see—but he’s not content with how we are.

“I can’t forget, Quinn. I’ve already conceded the house.” We’ve been over this argument a dozen times.

It took Quinn one month half living in my house before he had me moved into a beautiful apartment, complete with garden. I didn’t want to live in the apartment he already had. Too many bad memories and thoughts about the Quinn of the past.

“Moving to Chicago won’t mean you’ll forget anything,” he says.

“I think the conversation of where we live is still open to negotiation.”

We’ve not been able to agree, and while the shift in power and business direction takes place, I’m happy to stay in London. Quinn has other ideas, though.

“How about we negotiate now. I want you to come back to Chicago. I’m fed up of splitting our fucking lives in two.” He looks at me and gives me a hard stare.

He’s deadly serious.

“Hate to tell you, Quinn, but that’s not how to negotiate.” I shake my head at him and tug on his hand, wanting to continue our walk rather than get into another argument.

“It’s how I negotiate, and no matter how clean the business is, I’ll always get what I want in the end. Remember, you’re helpless when I get my hands on you, dirty girl.” He beams his full Cane smile, and I raise my camera to get the shot I’ve been after for weeks.

It’s bittersweet, though, because I know he’s not going to let the moving thing go.

“Quinn, please listen to me. I’m not ready to leave. I can’t. My business is here, my parents...”

“Bullshit. You’re afraid,” he cuts in. “You’ve been afraid for a year, waiting for me to suddenly ask for my revenge or some shit. Tell you it’s all been a lie. It’s not fucking happening, Em.”

“I can’t just run away with you and live happily ever after. Not after what I’ve done.” My voice is quiet and I scan the park around us to make sure there’s no one in earshot.

“You won’t let yourself forget what happened, no matter where you live. There are other counsellors you can see, other rehab facilities you can volunteer at. I don’t even know why you’re bothering. It’s over, Em. Done.” He backs away from me, frustration etched into his face. “And I’m getting damn tired of not being able to protect you.”

“Protect me?” His statement confuses me.

“Protect me then. Do you think I enjoy living in the shadow of what my brother did to you? Hell, kidnapping you and locking you away has crossed my mind more than once, Emily.” He huffs and stares out into the park. “I’ve fucking done it before.” My brows rise at the comment. “I won’t let anyone else I care for get hurt. Not again.”

My argument to stay in London softens as I watch him look at the floor.

“You protect me just fine.” I move in and steal a kiss, desperate to right this between us but unable to find a solution. “Can we talk about this later?” I take a few steps away, hoping he’ll drop the subject and we can just enjoy the rest of the day. “Please? I don’t want to waste the precious time we do have together arguing.”

He tosses my hand away, still not letting the argument building drop.

“What will it take, dirty girl, huh? Do you want my name?” His name?  “Will that help you take me seriously?” My eyes widen like saucers as I catch on to what he’s saying.

“Your name? As in…”

“As in I fucking do. The ring. The name. Half of what’s mine.”

“You’re proposing?” The shock in my voice is clear, shown by my hands flying to my face.

“Only if you move your ass to Chicago. That’s my terms.”

“You’re giving me terms for our engagement?”

“More terms of engagement, I should think.”

I can’t keep up with this man. Marriage? My heart pounds in my chest, ecstatic at the thought of being bound to the man I love for the rest of my life. I assumed he’d never agree to marriage. It really isn’t a Quinn thing.

“Should we roll your dice on the matter, too?”

He smirks, but doesn’t reach into that pocket. “Everything is always on my terms. You should have learnt that by now.” He doesn’t move to close the gap between us. He won’t. If I want physical contact from Quinn, I’ll have to ask for it.

“Aren’t I the exception to your rule?” The gap between us is now only a foot and I fight my urge to reach out and hug him.

“You are my only exception, Em. But not about this. You move your ass to Chicago and you can have the whole damn world.”

I search his eyes and find his usual steely reserve. My mind rushes to go over all the possible reasons why this isn’t a good idea, but my heart stomps them all out before they form into full coherent thoughts.

“I like the sound of that,” I say, wrapping my arms around him and focusing all of my attention on him.

“Is that a yes?” He finally reaches his arm around my waist, providing the comfort I need from him right now. I love this man and everything he’s working towards. And I knew that one day I’d have to make the decision to either move to Chicago or end things. I can’t contemplate my life without him now, though. He’s the other half of who I’ve become.

The man I love.

Living with Quinn and forging a new life together doesn’t have to mean I forget the sacrifices made to bring us together. Wouldn’t I be doing the exact opposite by walking away now? Dishonouring Josh’s memory and all the pain we went through to reach where we are today.

I stare into his eyes, and watch a storm of emotion play behind them. He’d deadly serious about everything he’s said, and I realise I haven’t appreciated the situation from his point of view. I must be important to him. Quinn Cane simply wouldn’t ask otherwise. Ultimatum or not.

Mrs Emily Cane, though?