After the End (15 page)

She disappeared through the swinging doors and Brady grinned. “That’s Susan. Hell of a cook, even if she is prickly. If you listened to her talk, apparently my whole line would lay down and cry without her.”

“Would they?” I asked, chasing Brady’s smile with my fingertips.

“I refuse to inflate her ego any more than necessary” was his answer as he gave my fingers a playful bite, as he slid his arms around my waist. As he came home, and I was right there, was
there
with every part of me.

It ached, yes. Ripping off scabs always did. But after the blood was gone, after you’d cried and bled out and hurt, wasn’t that when you healed? I had to believe there was something good after all that pain.

I think Brady could sense the difference, the way I was trying so hard to be present, because as he kissed my chin absently, his eyes were on mine. There was hope there, yes, wary and fragile. We were perched on a soap bubble, teetering between solid ground and nothing. What I’d done had hurt him, I realized all at once. Not just a little, not just an annoyance—waking up alone in that bed, having me shut him out, had hurt far more than just angry words and a rant. He didn’t know if he could trust me.

There was a drop in my stomach, a frown creasing my forehead. “I’m sorry,” I told him softly, tracing a path across his cheek with my fingers. “About before.”

“Quinn—” He tried to stop me but I kept going, stubbornly.

“It was my fault. How I handled things was shit.”

He sighed. “I know. But we already talked about this, Quinn. It’s okay, we’re… moving on.” He nodded a little, trying for a smile, this one less brilliant than the ones I treasured. “And everyone is going to make mistakes. I do, all the time. It’s human. We are human, nothing more.”

I rolled my eyes, teasing him. “You’re disgustingly sweet.” But he laughed and I kissed him again, hooking my hands lightly around the back of his neck. It was getting easier.

The graveyard was still with me; Aaron’s ghost was still there, yes, but this was so solid and real I was beginning to let myself see the difference. To feel what it was to be alive.

“You drew?” Brady was surprised as he saw the notepad and the evidence of my efforts. Flipping through the pages, his eyebrows raised, studying each sketch intensely. There were dresses made of butterflies and kings dancing with nymphs, but in the middle of it all was the god of the sun. He was brilliant, and he orchestrated the world around him with deft movements; his smile took over the page, beaming light down on the masses. “This is really good, babe.”

A bit uncomfortable with his praise, I shifted, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand. “They’re sketches,” I dismissed, but he shot me a look.

“They’re good,” he insisted simply, flipping to the next one, a simple picture of him in the kitchen. There were plates and bowls flying around him, but he was calm, commanding, a captain at the stern of his ship. Brady laughed quietly, holding it up to study it in better light. “This one especially,” he kidded, nudging a hip against one of my legs. “Excellent subject matter.”

He was teasing. I wasn’t, though, when I murmured, “I thought so.”

God, that look again. The hopeful, worried, hesitantly pleased one. It seemed so out of place on Brady’s face, like he’d gotten too skittish to be really sure of anything anymore. Instead of making me afraid, though, I found myself wanting to take care of him. To show him he could trust me to be careful, to match his strength. I wanted to be better because of him.

“I need to go and check on things out there.” Brady took my hand and I laced my fingers with his, squeezing them lightly. “Can I interest you in some hors d'oeuvres and my charming company?”

“Who could say no to an offer like that?” I slid off the table and took his arm; we walked back out into the hallway. It was a rare moment of stillness: the music playing, trembling around us, the conversations muted. The staff was out in the main room and we were alone.

I stopped him there, and when he turned to look at me, eyebrows tilted upward in question, I took his hands and tugged him in to me. My arms went around his neck, his fingers curled around my hips, and just like that, just that easy, we were dancing. His startled look faded into a smile and I leaned up to kiss him, slowly, as we moved together.

“I thought you didn’t dance,” he murmured.

I nipped his lower lip and buried the noise he made into another kiss. “I’m feeling inspired to try new things.”

His forehead rested against mine, and we stayed there, in the dim light, in the soft sway of music. I touched his cheek and he smiled; his arms slid around my waist and I leaned into him, loving how he felt, wanting nothing more than the strength of him, gentle and sweet.

“Come home with me tonight.” I wasn’t sure how long we’d danced—the music had moved on to other songs, the chatter outside the door had risen and fallen, and he’d relaxed completely into me—but my voice broke the quiet between us. He raised his head, looking startled by the offer.

“Quinn….” He trailed off into a sigh. “Last time didn’t go so well,” he reminded me, regretful, thumb rubbing along my lip. “And this is good, babe. You and me, we’re so
good
. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“I’m not jumping ahead,” I told him seriously. “I’m right here.”

“What happens in the morning?” It was a valid question, and I made myself stop. I made myself acknowledge the tight hurt in my throat, the nerves that were skittering along under my skin.

“I probably will be a little sad,” I admitted, cupping his cheek. “But I’m going to make you pancakes and coffee. We’ll read the morning paper together and I’ll steal the funnies and you’ll suffer silently while I read the ones out loud that make me laugh. I’ll miss him, Brady, but I want to learn how to do that while I fall for you.” I met his eyes, wanting him to hear this, to hear all of it. Needing so badly to say it all out loud. “Because I am. Falling for you.”

Taking in a low breath, Brady didn’t move. His gaze flicked up to mine and then downward, those brilliant brown depths troubled. After a long moment where I was so sure I’d broken this beyond repair, he offered, quietly, “I’ve already fallen.”

My heart tightened, joy and fear all together making my whole being constrict painfully. But it was good; it was terrifying and wonderful. Just like love should be. Just like I already knew it could become.

Leaning up into him, I kissed him. While the music played, with his arms around me, I kissed Brady Banner. It was scary and exhilarating and complicated, but it was
us
. And I was beginning to wake up and see the world enough to want more.

“
C
AN
I interest you in a salmon and crab cake with caviar?” Conner was at my elbow, flashing me a smile as he held a tray in front of me. “Or perhaps a fingerling potato and steak bite with truffles?”

I gave the man a look. Conner had been given strict instructions to make sure I didn’t get neglected, and he’d taken to the job with glee, making sure I got tastes and sips of everything that was flying out of the kitchen. “I think we’ve established the rules for the evening, Conner,” I told him sternly, eyes wide as I took in the offerings. “I want everything. Let’s not be bashful. Bring on the truffles.”

Conner laughed, handing me both appetizers and flopping down in the chair next to me. He’d been working the room all night, making sure everyone was fed and happy. “I hate these cocktail focused things,” he complained. “Sit-down meals at least have downtime. My feet are going to hate me tonight.”

Brady was back working, and I’d insisted he not worry about me. Conner seemed to like having someone to come by and talk with every so often, exchanging gossip about the other staff and some of the guests, refilling my glass, and checking that I was never lacking for something delicious. I’d also met the rest of Brady’s crew, one by one, throughout the night.

They were a good group, all of them fiercely loyal to Brady. I could see why; other than the stolen moments with me, he was working just as hard as any of them, ensuring the event went off without a hitch.

“So, am I what you expected?” I asked, almost dying of bliss at the first bite of the crab cake.

“Have to admit, you’re not Brady’s type.” Conner gave me a critical look. “He seems to be more into that high-maintenance gym bunny thing.”

Now this was the good dirt. “Oh really?” I asked, sipping my wine. I’d have to stop after this glass unless I just wanted to fall asleep once I got home. Look out, wild man on the loose—two glasses of wine and I took naps. “Who says I’m not a gym person?”

Conner laughed. Loudly. “Yeah, okay,” he smirked, gathering his tray again. “I’m just so sure you’re on the treadmill every day.”

I thought about being insulted. I was too busy shoveling my food in my mouth, though. “This is all natural,” I told him with an arch look. “And you really should only run if something is chasing you.” Fiddling with my glass, I cut a glance over at Conner, venturing, “How do you know what Brady’s type is?”

Conner hesitated before shrugging. “Because
I’m
Brady’s type. We used to be a thing, a long, long time ago.”

Oh.

Awkwardly, I just kind of blinked at Conner. He laughed again, patting my shoulder. “God, don’t look so scared. I’m not going to go all crazy ex on you. Seriously, we dated for, like, three months a hundred years ago. We worked for the same catering company. He was fresh out of college. It was a thing. We were
so
bad together. Trust me, we’re way better friends.”

It was strange anytime to meet an ex-boyfriend. Even weirder to know it was the guy who’d been bringing me food all night. But I never would have guessed there had been anything between the two of them. It wasn’t like I was suddenly boiling over with raging jealousy. I just wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“So
you’re
high-maintenance.” I decided to go for teasing, keeping my tone light. Conner gave me a flat-out grin.

“I’m totally worth it too,” he assured me, hefting the tray back up on his shoulder and heading out into the room again.

Huffing out a laugh under my breath, I watched him go, contemplating. I felt Brady come up behind me before I heard him speak, and I leaned back as his hands came to rest lightly on my shoulders. I’d put my mask aside for the moment, as had he, and we smiled at each other in greeting. “You look serious,” he mused, sitting beside me. I drew his hand into mine, resting them on my knee.

“Conner.” I shrugged.

“He’s been taking care of you?” Brady’s gaze was sharp as he scanned the room. “I swear, I will kick his ass if he left you to starve. He’s probably flirting with someone and letting his food get cold.”

“Nah, he’s been good,” I assured Brady, raising his hand so I could kiss his palm. Brady’s expression all but melted, and I got a warm jolt all through me at the sight of it. “He just told me you two used to date.”

Brady blinked, startled, before he gave me a sheepish grimace. “Christ. I was going to tell you about that, but then I was busy and I didn’t think and….” He winced a bit further, studying my face anxiously. “I swear, it’s been years. And it wasn’t even a
thing
so much as, you know, working late and going out a lot and way too many shots of tequila. There were a couple of months there, but it was—”

I cut him off, tugging him in to kiss him quiet. “Brady,” I told him, holding his gaze. “I don’t care that you dated someone however many years ago. You’re not sleeping with him now, right?”

Giving a mock shiver, Brady shook his head. “Definitely not.”

“So, it’s fine.” And then, quieter, “I believe you were going to tell me. It’s an ex, Brady. We both have them.” There was one question, though, that I hesitated in asking. But finally, I ventured, “Why did you ask him to bring me the box? And food and stuff?”

Rubbing a hand across his face, Brady paused. “He’s one of my oldest friends,” he told me frankly. “Whether or not I’ve seen him naked, Conner and I have been friends for nearly a decade. I trusted him to make sure you were alright while I worked.”

It wasn’t malicious or a test or anything like that—not that I’d seriously thought it could be. Brady might be a lot of things, but discovering he had a thing for men who worked out did not mean he was suddenly manipulative or cruel. Still, I relaxed at the confirmation. This was the guy who patiently stayed with me even while the specter of my dead partner lurked over the relationship. I could handle him being friends with a former boyfriend. I wasn’t
that
insecure.

“I dated Tracy once,” I informed him, arching my eyebrows over my wineglass as he snorted out a laugh. “It’s true. We were in fourth grade, and she was the only girl I didn’t think was icky. We kissed on the swing set, and then she stole my cupcake. I left her for my crush on Rudy Morten, who is now a dentist.”

Shaking his head, grinning at me, Brady pulled me in for a hard kiss. “You, sir,” he told me in a murmur, “are dancing with me. Right now.”

We did. He made me feel like awkwardness was for other people, and I could feel him relax into us, into my arms, as we moved around the floor. I laughed as he described the process of making sure five hundred mini chocolate soufflés didn’t fall even while your pastry chef was so tired he kept whipping the mayonnaise instead of the egg whites. He introduced me to everyone as his boyfriend, his hand on the small of my back and mine around his waist as we mingled and mixed, as we drank more wine and I didn’t once wish for a nap. But mostly, we danced.

It was perfect.

C
RASHING
back against the wall of my apartment, I grabbed at Brady’s suit coat and shoved it unceremoniously to the floor. His mouth was on mine, hot and hungry, devouring me while I was helpless to do anything but moan. I slid my hands down his back, palms flat against the soft fabric of his shirt until I could shove them down under his waistband. I curled my fingers around the gorgeous curve of his ass, nails digging in, and jerked him closer. He groaned into our kiss and my tongue tangled with his, both of us panting for breath when we pulled away.