Men Like This. Roxanne Smith
you go down with a sinking vessel, Captain. Cutesy metaphors aside, you’re going to disappoint your fans. Besides, who says you’ve got the chops for romance? Your characters are too busy stabbing each other in inappropriate places to fall in love.”
She released a dramatic sigh of disgust. “It was one time! Everything since has been your run-of-the-mill, knife-you-in-the-neck stabbings. Let it go.”
“Sorry. The really disturbing ones stay with you.”
She harrumphed and held a hand out for the freshly printed stack of papers in the printer tray behind his desk. “Give me those. Maybe a little legal work will help blot out the memory.”
“I should be so lucky.”
* * * *
“Breathe, Quinn, breathe.”
Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
Telling Richard about her plans to move to London to write a romance novel had been a trial in courage. Spilling the beans to her son had been far less fun, an emotional battering ram of guilt and apprehension as Seth had told her under no uncertain terms he intended to stay in California, even if it meant living with his dad for another year.
Preparing to tell Blake the news and Seth’s subsequent decision required mustering every ounce of confidence she possessed. And some she didn’t.
“He’s a glorified number cruncher. No one special. Not anymore.” If she said it a million times, it wouldn’t make it true. Blake would always be special to her. She’d worshipped him up until the day she’d received the damning phone call from an office busybody with a grudge against Blake informing her of his affair.
The cab driver, who steadfastly ignored Quinn mumbling to herself in the backseat, deposited her at the curb in front of her former home. She climbed out and gazed at the gorgeous pale blue colonial.
She loved this house. She’d spent ten years decorating it with great care and pride. She didn’t blame Blake for wanting to keep it. He hadn’t had to try too hard. Divorce had left her in shambles. What was one more loss?
Blake answered the royal-blue front door and greeted Quinn with a curt nod before stepping back to allow her entry.
Seth waited inside to give her an enormous, encouraging hug. “Hey, Mom.” She took comfort in his mumbled breath against her shoulder. He pulled away. “Can we get lunch after you talk to Dad?”
She ruffled his hair. “Yeah, sounds great.”
“Okay. I’ll be upstairs till you’re ready.” He headed for the staircase.
She admired the way his thick, dark hair bounced as he raced up the steps two at a time. The rogue gene from Aunt Emily had beat out the blond he should’ve inherited from both Quinn and Blake. Seth’s eyes, however, were undeniably his father’s—hazel and beautiful. Like mint and honey.
Blake led her through the house to his office as if she didn’t know the way. She tried to ignore the changes. Kira had wasted no time putting her tasteless stamp on things. Ugly braided rugs covered the flawless hardwood floors, and she hardly recognized the oak dining table stained a hideous shade of red.
Her heels clicked on the floor of Blake’s office—no rugs in here—and she sent a silent whisper of thanks for the added height. Once again, Angie had convinced her into the soaring stilettos, this time with some nonsense about keeping her back straight. Totally worth it to find herself almost a full inch taller than her ex-husband.
The shoes reminded her of Jack. He’d towered several inches over her last time she’d worn them. Suddenly Blake didn’t seem so imposing.
Quinn smiled. Comparing the two men might be her ticket to surviving this encounter. She had only to recall the disdain on Jack’s face when she’d talked about her ex.
His office hadn’t changed with the exception of the picture frames on his desk and bookshelves. They held photos of Kira now. Quinn blocked out the initial sensation of needling pain as she imagined decade-old photographs of herself tossed out like garbage and focused on how there wasn’t a single picture of Seth in sight. Transferring grief to anger wasn’t healthy, but it felt better than a breaking heart.
Blake sat without inviting her to do the same. She sat anyway.
“Have you found a place yet?”
Despite his coolness toward her, Quinn missed him. How could she not miss the man she’d spent almost half her life loving? She missed everything from how his pillow smelled to the sprinkling of blond facial hair left in the sink after his morning shave. It seemed like the small things hurt the most.
Today he wore a pale gray button-up with the sleeves rolled up twice. It was unbuttoned at the top and showed off his collarbones and a hint of fine, blond chest hair. Still the golden boy he’d been in high school when she’d first fallen head over heels for him. He’d looked at her like the moon lived in her eyes in those days. What happened?
The moon bolted, honey, and took up residence in Kira’s eyes. Kira had ambition to match Blake’s. She was a woman in his field of work who understood the demands of the job and sympathized, a woman demanding and driven like him.
They’d get married and have bossy, imposing children.
Sometimes Quinn wished she would’ve tried harder to be that woman. Maybe Blake would’ve respected her had she been Very Important in an Office like him. Instead, she’d happily taken up the reins of housewife and become what he liked to sneeringly call complacent. She’d confused it for content.
She fought the urge to cry. “Soon.”
He nodded his approval. “Good. It’s been stressful. Things will get better once Seth moves back in with you.”
Her nostalgia faded abruptly, replaced with disappointment and a familiar mild surprise. “Seth’s a great kid. How stressful can having him around be?”
“He’s a teenager. Thirteen. He’s loud and distracting. When Kira and I bring work home from the office, it’s impossible to get anything done around here. And forget entertaining clients.”
Quinn smirked. The asinine smile always rubbed Blake the wrong way. “Maybe try spending some time with him instead of letting him sit up there alone in his room.”
Blake sighed in his put upon way. It was, she believed, designed to let her in on how tedious he found her. “It’s nothing personal. He is a good kid. I love him.”
She sensed more to the story. Her ability to read him irritated him more than usual since the divorce had been finalized, but the old adage proved true. You can take the girl out of the marriage, but you can’t take the marriage out of the girl. She crossed her arms. “And?”
He started to reply, hesitated and began again. “Kira and I would like to start a family of our own. He’s my son, but Kira wants—”
It was like being zapped with lightning if lightning zapped people with outrage instead of electricity. “Let me guess. Kira wants purity. Am I right?” She didn’t need to wait for an answer. “Of course I’m right. She doesn’t like having Seth around because he’s mine. Blake, he’s yours, too. Why aren’t you offended? If she really loves you, shouldn’t she want to learn to love your son?”
Blake leaned back in his wheeled chair and spoke like a man trying to explain the cosmos to a monkey. “She can’t help but feel a certain way about my child with you. It’s not her fault. Our marriage is something Kira feels she has to live up to no matter how many times I’ve assured her you and I no longer care for each other. Our history intimidates her.”
Why wasn’t he capable of a single pinch of sensitivity? She nodded absently. “If that’s how you feel, you’re not going to like what I came here to tell you.”
Blake eyed her warily. “You didn’t come here to tell me you were going to find a house soon?”
Quinn