Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Heather,” Quinn warned as he stalked into the room. He flicked me a look. “Tea? Coffee?”
“Coffee. I brought doughnuts.” I raised the bag in my hands.
“Yes!” Angus bounced off the couch and stumbled at my feet. “Please.” He beamed up at me.
Laughing, I handed him the bag, but Quinn quickly took it. “One,” he warned his son.
I feared I had put Quinn in a foul mood for his last weekend with Heather. Biting my lip, I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. The front window took up almost the entire wall, giving a panoramic view out over the field across the road. You couldn’t see the sea from here, but you could from Quinn’s bedroom upstairs.
The kitchen was clearly custom, which didn’t surprise me considering Quinn’s profession. It was beautifully made with light oak cabinetry, a massive island, and white quartz countertops. All the appliances were hidden behind matching oak doors, except for the big range cooker along the back wall.
He had a huge U-shaped sofa in dark brown leather. No cushions, no frills. The dining table was a sturdy oak number that seated eight. There were photographs on the wall, some of the family, some of local scenery. Otherwise, it was basic and masculine. Very few touches of feminine softness, which surprised me because this was the house where Kiera had lived for years.
I wondered if she’d taken lots of stuff with her.
What she hadn’t taken was the wall of bookshelves behind the dining table. I let their family chatter filter into the background as I walked around the table to study the shelves. They were filled to the brim with tattered, used paperbacks and hardbacks. As I scanned the titles, I saw the genres ranged from thrillers to autobiographies, to epic historical, even some high fantasy and sci-fi books. Muddled in the mix were children’s stories, middle grade, and some YA.
I remembered Cammie telling me Quinn had gotten into reading after researching the books I was studying at uni.
Emotion thickened my throat as I stared at a wall of books that represented all the time lost between us. We’d become different people while we were adrift.
“If you’re looking for some romantasy, those are in my room.”
I startled, turning to meet Heather’s curious gaze. She’d snuck up on me while I’d been spiraling.
“No.” I shook my head, heart racing. “I was just … your dad wasn’t a big reader when we were kids.”
“Hard to believe. He practically forced me and Angus to become readers.”
“Aye?”
“Dad said we needed books because we live in such a small place with such a narrow view of the world. Books open the rest of the world to us.”
It was such a wise Quinn thing to say.
“He’s right.”
“We know.” She tapped my arm. “Come get your coffee and doughnut before we start the game.”
Quinn’s gaze was assessing as I followed his daughter over to the island. Angus was up on a stool, almost finished with his doughnut, his lips crusted with sugar.
“Just admiring your books,” I explained as I took the coffee Quinn slid toward me. “Are you reading anything good at the moment?”
“Haven’t had time lately.”
“Are you?” Heather filled the following awkward silence.
“Same.” I shrugged. “No time lately.”
“There should always be time for books.”
“Wait until you have a million essays to write at uni. See if you have time then.” Quinn reached for a doughnut and stuffed it into his mouth.
Heather pursed her lips while she studied him and then turned back to me. “Are you the reason he’s in a bad mood?”
Quinn choked and spluttered on a mouthful.
“What? What’s happening?” Angus glanced between us while my cheeks blazed. “Can I have another doughnut?”
“No.” Quinn swallowed his bite while he shook his head. His frown was directed at his daughter. “Sometimes you are mortifyingly too similar to your aunt, do you know that?”
“Aunt Cammie’s pure class, Dad. You couldn’t give me a bigger compliment.”
My lips twitched despite the awkwardness of the moment.
“Doughnuuuuuut.” Angus banged the island top with his palm. “It’s just sitting there all holey and lonely without my belly to keep it company.”
“Angus, I said one and only one. Heather, there’s something called tact. Have you heard of it?”
“Tact isn’t for the bold, Dad. I aim to be bold in life.”
“Why only one? That’s doughnut discrimination.”
“Nice word vocabulary, Angus!” Heather raised her arm over the island and her brother high-fived her.
The absurdity of the conversation had the laughter bubbling out of me before I could stop it.
When I was done, wiping amused tears that were probably a release from the culmination of weeks of emotional upheaval, I found all three McQuarries staring at me. Well, Angus kept side-eyeing the doughnut.
Heather was outright grinning.
Quinn’s expression was pained.
My heart turned over in my chest. We couldn’t spend the day with his children with Thursday night hanging over us. “Quinn, can we speak in private?”