“But that’s one of my favorite parts,” he complained, fastening his shorts. “You made me think the first morning you were here that I might have gotten you pregnant. Seems like I could touch you there if I wanted.” He blurted it out more angrily than he’d intended, and he wondered where all this emotion was coming from. He was logical, and he still had everything under control.
Then it occurred to him that he might not have everything under control after all. “Did you lie to me that first morning? Did we do it?” It came out hoarse: “Are you pregnant?”
“No,” she said quietly, gazing down at her manicured hands in her lap.
He reached over and took her chin in his hand, so she had to look at him. He asked again, “Sarah, are you pregnant?”
“No,” she said, glaring at him with dark-fringed eyes. She jerked her chin away.
“Then why do you act like you just saw a ghost?”
She huffed out a sigh. “What did you want to give me?” she asked coldly.
Reluctantly, he pulled the shopping bag from behind the seat. “I’m in a band. I have to get along with them. And sometimes that means doing things I don’t want to do.” He passed the bag to her.
She peered inside at her clothes from Quentin’s dresser drawer, which Erin had packed up for her.
“But, Sarah,” he began, taking her hand.
“ ‘But, Sarah,’ ” she repeated woodenly, pulling her hand away.
“I want to be with you,” he said in a rush. “Only you. But it will get me in big trouble. And I need to know how you feel about me.”
“I feel more than I should,” she said, meeting his gaze head-on.
“You think I’m in love with Erin,” he said. “I’m not. There was a time when I was, but that was a long time ago, and way before you.”
“You told me you were in love with her. In the emergency room.”
“I never told you I was in love with her,” he objected. “I told you I love her.” He laughed shortly. “I love Owen, too, on a good day.”
Sarah stared at him with the poker face.
“My God, Sarah,” he said, feeling the anger rise again. “You don’t still believe I’m on coke, do you?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t believe you’re stupid, either.”
Oh no.
She said through her teeth, “Why all this subterfuge? And if you pretend again that you don’t know what subterfuge means—”
He opened his hands. “To keep you away.”
She nodded. “Anything to protect yourself. You’re used to doing what makes you feel good at the moment. That’s fine when you’re twenty-one. Or, at least, it’s to be expected. But when you’re thirty, it’s irresponsible.”
He folded his arms. “And you think that before the Cheatin’ Hearts took off, I just worked at some shit job at the hospital, and never saved any money or did anything so I could support a family. The fact that I have money now doesn’t count for anything.”
“Of course it counts,” she said. “Of course your success with the band counts. But you live the band lifestyle. You tour, and you start fights, and you have a girl in every port—”
“I don’t have a girl in every port. We travel by bus or airplane.”
“—and that’s not what I want,” she said more loudly. “You see, even now, you’re not taking this seriously.”
“I am!” he exclaimed. “I’m taking this very seriously! But the person you’re describing is not me.”
“How the hell would I know that?” Sarah asked.
Quentin didn’t have an answer.
“This has been fun,” she said. “I mean, fun. This has been the most fun I’ve ever had. But, long-term . . . ”
“You’re not really a pink-haired girl,” he finished for her.
“I guess not.” She reached behind her neck to unclasp the emerald necklace.
“Don’t do that,” he said in alarm.
She paused with her hands behind her head, watching him.
“Just give me until tomorrow,” he said. “There’s something I need to do.”
Sarah shook her head. “It’s not what you can do. It’s what you are.” She put her graceful hand on his knee. “You need to go back to Erin.” Dragging the shopping bag after her, she jumped out of the big-ass truck and slammed the door.
He got out and followed her at a distance as the sharp crack of her shoes echoed across the parking lot. His crazy comic book villainess in high heels, abbreviated green dress, and brown ponytail striped with pink. Leaving him.
Think, Q. Think, Quentin. His mind was a blank. Just when he needed it most.
As she started the engine, he reached the BMW. He knocked once on the window and she lowered it.
He knelt on the asphalt so he was on her level. He asked her, “Are you bluffing?”
Her poker face remained motionless, but her dark brown eyes filled with tears.
“You’re not bluffing,” he breathed.
As she raised the window, her face was replaced with a reflection of Vulcan’s ass. Quentin stepped back and she sped away.
He stood alone on the black asphalt in the black night for some moments, willing the black mood to lift so he could think again.
Finally he spun around and looked up to the spotlit iron man for inspiration. Vulcan mooned him, mocking him.
“Come on, big guy!” Quentin shouted. “Turn around and look at me when I’m talking to you!”
The cool mountain breeze swayed the trees, and the frogs chirped in answer.
With a dejected sigh, Quentin turned for his truck. And that’s when it hit him. He had a big-ass truck! He was mobile. He could drive home to talk to his dad, the expert on falling headlong in love with the world’s most inconvenient woman.
15
Yes, you’re going to hell for knowingly having sex with the father of a pregnant woman’s baby. No, you can’t assign a numerical value to the great sex and insert it into an algorithm to figure out exactly how damned you are. It’s no use. You’re toast. If you get there first, save me a good seat.
Wendy Mann
Senior Consultant
Stargazer Public Relations
Sarah drove to the Galleria and packed her bags, because Nine Lives might be after her and she had no protector now. She moved to the hotel downtown where she’d played bridge with her mother and Quentin, but of course she couldn’t sleep. She found the gym and went for a long run.