“I’m not ready yet.”
“You’ve missed your big opportunity, you know. We could have had a double wedding if you’d played your cards right.”
“Aaron and I aren’t like you and Lisa,” she said. It came out more sharply than she’d intended and Quinn took a pull on his beer before responding.
“I just want you to be as happy as I am, Ames.”
“I know. Sorry.”
He shifted one of his feet so it rested on hers, big and warm, letting her know without words that she was forgiven. He smiled at her, his eyes heavy-lidded from all the alcohol.
“Tomorrow’s going to be a great day. The best day of my life,” he said.
Her heart ached with sadness and happiness as she looked at him, the two emotions so hopelessly mixed she knew she’d never get them untangled.
“You’re going to be a great husband.”
“I know,” he said. Then they both laughed at his shameless arrogance.
SHE TWISTED in bed, rolling over onto her side. God, how she hated the idea that he was in pain, that all that hope and happiness had gone up in flames. Worse, that she hadn’t been around to comfort him because she’d chosen to push him out of her life when he’d needed her the most.
How could Lisa have done this to him? Amy could still remember the way her friend had glowed on the morning of their wedding. And the way Quinn had looked at Lisa when she’d walked up the aisle toward him. A match made in heaven, everyone had said.
And Lisa had thrown all that away. Amy simply couldn’t comprehend it.
She was drifting toward sleep when an insidious little thought weaseled its way into her mind: now that Quinn was getting a divorce, he was free again. Available.
Her eyes snapped open. Her heart kicked out an urgent, panicky beat.
Don’t. Don’t even think it. Not for a second, you idiot.
But she was wide-awake, and the thought was lodged in her brain, glowing like neon.
Quinn was free to love again. If he wanted to.
“Don’t be an idiot,” she said out loud.
Because she’d been waiting for Quinn Whitfield to notice her since she was fourteen years old. A full sixteen years of yearning, longing, jealousy and heartache. Long enough to know better.
She closed her eyes and pushed the weasel words down into a deep, dark corner of her mind. Because she did know better. Even if some aberrant, hope-springs-eternal, deluded part of her psyche refused to lay down and die, most of her knew the truth: Quinn had never seen her as anything other than his good friend. And nothing she ever did would change that.
SHE SLEPT BADLY and woke early. Her first thought was that Quinn was getting a divorce, her second that she now owned the Grand.
Great priorities. Not.
She lay in bed reviewing the evening’s momentous events, then started to formulate plans for the day ahead. The way she saw it, she had two options—hunt down Quinn and ask all the questions she hadn’t asked last night, or find Reg Hanover and talk him into giving her early access to the Grand.
She chose option B, because she might be a hopeless case where Quinn was concerned, but she wasn’t stupid. No matter how wonderful and sad and torturous it was to have him in town, tomorrow he would fly home to Sydney. The Grand was her future, her big dream come true. She needed to keep that fact top of mind no matter what other distractions were on hand.
By nine she was waiting out at the front of the council building, keeping watch for Reg’s distinctive beige Volvo. She saw him turn in to the parking lot and waited until he’d parked before walking toward him.
“Ms. Parker,” he said stiffly as he exited her car. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Amy spared a glance for today’s tie—a sketchily drawn blue marlin leaping on a purple background—before focusing on Reg’s face.
“I want to talk to you about getting access to the Grand before settlement.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” His tone implied that he thought her request was inappropriate, to say the least.
Amy gave him her brightest smile. “I don’t see why not. It happens all the time, and it’s not as though there’s a tenant. The place has been empty for years. Surely it’s to the community’s benefit that the restoration start as soon as possible?”
Reg opened his mouth to reject her again.
“Before you say no, I should warn you that I’ll be back tomorrow to ask the same thing. And the day after that, and so on. I’ve always been stubborn like that.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“I know, but I also know where you live, Reg.”
He glared at her, his thick eyebrows meeting in the middle. She could see his desire to punish her for last night’s defeat warring with his need to be rid of her. She held her breath, waiting to see which way he would jump.
Ten minutes later she was pushing the chrome-and-glass front doors of the Grand wide open. She stepped into the dusty foyer and glanced around.
“Honey, I’m home,” she called, her voice echoing in the empty space.
It was tempting to gloat a little, but she’d done her celebrating last night. She rolled up the sleeves on her bright orange sweater and performed her first act as owner of the Grand, tearing down the tattered yellow paper that had masked the front windows for years. Light streamed into the foyer, unkindly highlighting the old cinema’s many flaws.
“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll put you right.”
An hour later she was dragging a small mountain of damp cardboard out to the rear parking lot. She’d arranged for an industrial-size rubbish bin to be delivered first thing Monday, but she was too impatient to wait until then to get started. She hefted the cardboard onto the pile she’d created near the door just as a dark sedan pulled up next to her rusty old station wagon. It took her a moment to recognize Quinn behind the wheel. She dusted her hands down the front of her jeans as he exited his car.
“I should have known you’d be here,” he said.
He was wearing faded jeans and scuffed brown boots with a charcoal-gray sweater. Her heart did stupid, teenage things as she took in his broad shoulders and lean hips and wry smile.
“No point in wasting time.”
“How much rent are the council charging you to have early access?”
“None.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “How’d you pull that off?”
“I have my
