a rubber hammer on the thigh. “Bang, bang, bang!”
Amy turned away from their contact, and Quint knew that whatever had barely started tonight was well over and rightfully so. “Okay, I’m leaving,” he said to the little girl and was rewarded by a bright smile. His leaving made her happy. He just wished it made him happy.
He looked back at Amy and knew he couldn’t just leave with bad feelings between them. “Listen, can we start over? No rats? No dead gingerbread family…and none of this? Can we just be friends?” That appealed to him on so many levels, just to talk to her, to look at her, to hear her voice. “Can we do that?”
She hesitated and oddly, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe until she finally nodded. “Okay.”
He held out his hand to her. “I’m Quint Gallagher. I work here.”
That brought a hint of a smile, and he loved it. “Amy Blake.”
The minute she put her hand in his, the minute he felt the fine bones and the heat in her, he knew he was a total liar and a sham. Damn it, he wanted to be friends, but there was more, so much more. “Good to meet you,” he murmured.
“Yes,” she breathed, then the contact was gone.
He forced a smile of his own. “Okay, I’m leaving. Maybe we’ll run into each other and…be friendly?”
Her smile was bigger now, but he hated that bit of relief he saw behind it. “Yes, of course. You’re welcome down here anytime.”
“Thank you.” He ruffled Taylor’s silky hair, bent down and said, “Remind me to never get you a real hammer. Bye bye.”
She looked up at him and frowned. “Bye bye.”
He glanced at Amy. “Good night,” he murmured and headed toward the door. It seemed to him that he was always walking away from her. A man not used to walking away from anything, was making a habit out of it with this woman.
A MY WATCHED Quint go and finally gave in to the need to hug herself tightly, as if that could stop this sense of fragmentation that had happened the minute the kiss had stopped.
Then Taylor toddled after him, and it was all she could do not to yell at her to stop. Quint must have heard her coming after him because he turned around.She watched the tiny child and the tall, lean man facing each other. Amy had a flash of what never had been for either of them. Rob and Taylor. It never had been. And in that moment, the sorrow over what could have been and never would be, hit her hard. She watched her daughter, so small and vulnerable, then Quint hunkered down to her level.
“You go back to mommy, Taylor, okay?” He looked at Amy over Taylor’s head, but was still talking to the child. “I have to leave.”
Amy couldn’t move. She felt immobilized by something beyond the grief, something she couldn’t understand. Then Quint urged Taylor toward Amy. Oddly, Taylor resisted for a minute, then Quint said, “Go and find baby.”
With that, Taylor took off, running back toward Amy while Quint straightened up. He looked at her from across the room, then turned and was gone.
Taylor found her baby and plunked down on her bottom, sidetracked with taking the doll’s clothes off. And Amy leaned back against the wall. Slowly, she sank down to sit on the carpeting, using the wall behind her for support, unnerved to be trembling. She closed her eyes tightly to stop the burning, then took a breath to try and ease the pain that came from nowhere to engulf her. Damn it, she’d grieved, really grieved, and she’d accepted being alone with Taylor. And she hated Quint for being there, for reminding her of that pain.
She had a life, a good life with Taylor. Not what she’d planned, but it was more than just existing or marking time, the way Jenn had suggested. She triedto breathe and calm her heart. She tried to let the pain go. And she tried not to remember what she’d lost. It was okay. It was part of grieving, to feel okay, then have the pain hit. She knew that. It had happened so much before, but it had been lessening. Until
Amy turned away from their contact, and Quint knew that whatever had barely started tonight was well over and rightfully so. “Okay, I’m leaving,” he said to the little girl and was rewarded by a bright smile. His leaving made her happy. He just wished it made him happy.
He looked back at Amy and knew he couldn’t just leave with bad feelings between them. “Listen, can we start over? No rats? No dead gingerbread family…and none of this? Can we just be friends?” That appealed to him on so many levels, just to talk to her, to look at her, to hear her voice. “Can we do that?”
She hesitated and oddly, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe until she finally nodded. “Okay.”
He held out his hand to her. “I’m Quint Gallagher. I work here.”
That brought a hint of a smile, and he loved it. “Amy Blake.”
The minute she put her hand in his, the minute he felt the fine bones and the heat in her, he knew he was a total liar and a sham. Damn it, he wanted to be friends, but there was more, so much more. “Good to meet you,” he murmured.
“Yes,” she breathed, then the contact was gone.
He forced a smile of his own. “Okay, I’m leaving. Maybe we’ll run into each other and…be friendly?”
Her smile was bigger now, but he hated that bit of relief he saw behind it. “Yes, of course. You’re welcome down here anytime.”
“Thank you.” He ruffled Taylor’s silky hair, bent down and said, “Remind me to never get you a real hammer. Bye bye.”
She looked up at him and frowned. “Bye bye.”
He glanced at Amy. “Good night,” he murmured and headed toward the door. It seemed to him that he was always walking away from her. A man not used to walking away from anything, was making a habit out of it with this woman.
A MY WATCHED Quint go and finally gave in to the need to hug herself tightly, as if that could stop this sense of fragmentation that had happened the minute the kiss had stopped.
Then Taylor toddled after him, and it was all she could do not to yell at her to stop. Quint must have heard her coming after him because he turned around.She watched the tiny child and the tall, lean man facing each other. Amy had a flash of what never had been for either of them. Rob and Taylor. It never had been. And in that moment, the sorrow over what could have been and never would be, hit her hard. She watched her daughter, so small and vulnerable, then Quint hunkered down to her level.
“You go back to mommy, Taylor, okay?” He looked at Amy over Taylor’s head, but was still talking to the child. “I have to leave.”
Amy couldn’t move. She felt immobilized by something beyond the grief, something she couldn’t understand. Then Quint urged Taylor toward Amy. Oddly, Taylor resisted for a minute, then Quint said, “Go and find baby.”
With that, Taylor took off, running back toward Amy while Quint straightened up. He looked at her from across the room, then turned and was gone.
Taylor found her baby and plunked down on her bottom, sidetracked with taking the doll’s clothes off. And Amy leaned back against the wall. Slowly, she sank down to sit on the carpeting, using the wall behind her for support, unnerved to be trembling. She closed her eyes tightly to stop the burning, then took a breath to try and ease the pain that came from nowhere to engulf her. Damn it, she’d grieved, really grieved, and she’d accepted being alone with Taylor. And she hated Quint for being there, for reminding her of that pain.
She had a life, a good life with Taylor. Not what she’d planned, but it was more than just existing or marking time, the way Jenn had suggested. She triedto breathe and calm her heart. She tried to let the pain go. And she tried not to remember what she’d lost. It was okay. It was part of grieving, to feel okay, then have the pain hit. She knew that. It had happened so much before, but it had been lessening. Until
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