Holding On (13 page)

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Authors: Meg Jolie

BOOK: Holding On
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“Why
do you think I asked you for lessons?” Carly teased back.

She
eyed up the mess they had made. Or, that she’d made. She had begged Quinn to start giving her cooking lessons on their days off. Quinn had agreed because even though she didn’t consider herself a superb cook it was impossible not to agree that she was better than Carly.

They’d started today, beginning with Quinn printing off a file full of easy recipes that she was sure Carly could handle
without instruction. Carly had skimmed through them, not looking entirely convinced but she didn’t argue.

Instead, they’d jumped right in with making chicken cacciatore, which Quinn insisted was easier than it sounded.

While she enjoyed spending the time with Quinn, Carly didn’t think cooking was all that easy...or enjoyable. It involved too much chopping and dicing. Not to mention too much clean up. It wasn’t hard exactly but it was time consuming. She’d already decided that maybe learning to cook wasn’t worth the effort. She hadn’t realized everything had the potential to take so long. But now the kitchen was filling with the incredible aroma. The chicken was now simmering on the stovetop and would be ready when their parents and Jake got off of work.

“You know, Carly,” Quinn said, “I think your cooking skills are just fine. It’s your patience that needs some work.”

“That’s probably true,” Carly said with a grin.

“I bet Mom likes this,” Quinn said. “She’s going to get spoiled if you start having dinner ready for her a couple of nights a week.”

Carly frowned. She was already contemplating telling Quinn that this might be their first and last lesson. “Maybe I’m too old to learn how to cook. Why didn’t she ever teach me to cook when I was younger?” Carly wondered.

Quinn shrugged. “She didn’t really teach me either, you know.”

“How did you get so good at it?” her sister demanded.

“Not by learning from Mom!” Quinn said with a laugh. “I started cooking with Jake. It’s not like you can learn to cook while you’re living in the dorm.”

Carly nodded because she was currently living in the dorm during the school year as well. She thought it was a reasonable excuse to be lacking in culinary ability.

“But why the sudden interest in learning to cook?” Quinn asked. She started pulling plates out of the cupboard so she could set the table.
Jake was planning on meeting her here, at her parents’ house, to join everyone for dinner. He’d been a bit hesitant when Quinn told him Carly would be cooking. But then decided as long as Quinn was overseeing the venture, it should all be okay.

She walked over to the table with the plates in her hand
s, glancing back at Carly, who seemed hesitant to answer.

Carly shrugged
as she tackled the mess on the countertop. “No reason.”

Quinn found that impossible to believe. Carly didn’t typically exert herself in any area unless she had something to gain from it. Quinn was almost positive that her rekindled interest in Jesse had a whole lot to do with it.
Quinn quirked a brow at Carly. Thoughts of Carly, Jesse—or any guy, really—and domestication all in the same sentence…It was a brand new concept.

“Are you sur
e?” Quinn started.

Carly seemed to sense where she was going with the conversation. She leaned forward on her elbows, resting against the freshly scrubbed down countertop.

“You know what? You have not told me about your honeymoon yet.” She was clearly trying to change the subject. “I want details.
Lots
of details!”

Quinn made a face at her sister to let her know that was not going to happen. “Carly, ew, no. You don’t need details.”
Why would she even want details
? Quinn wondered
.
The last thing
she
wanted to hear about was
her
sister’s sexual exploits. She shuddered at the thought.

Carly
was clearly about to protest so Quinn jumped in again.

“Alright.
The lady who ran the bed and breakfast was a complete sweetheart. She was an amazing cook. We had this fabulous peach French toast bake one morning and the most unbelievable hollandaise sauce on our eggs Benedict the next morning. I got the recipes from her so I’ll pass them on to you,” Quinn said. She continued to talk, not letting her sister get a word in. “The town had this lovely little ice-cream parlor that only served homemade ice-cream. It was
ahhhh
-mazing. The antique shops were incredible. Jake bought me this fabulous old sewing machine from the—”

“No!” Carly interrupted.
She slapped her hand down on the counter. “Are you kidding me? That is what you are going to share about your honeymoon?”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you we locked the door and almost never came out of our room?” Quinn asked.
“Except for the one afternoon we walked through town and visited every single antique shop?”

“Yes,” Carly said with a smile. “It would make me feel much better. What else?”

“Nothing else,” Quinn stubbornly replied.

“I’d tell you,” Carly said smugly.
“I’d tell you every last kinky detail.”

“And I’d run from the room screaming,” Quinn admitted. Then she grinned at her sister. “Okay, I’ll give you some kinky, sordid details
. If you admit to me that this little lesson in domestication has something to do with a particular tall, blond and hunky man from your past.”

“Just how many antique stores did you go to?” Carly asked, feigning a sudden interest in the prior conversation. “And what flavor ice-cream did you have?”

Quinn nudged her shoulder as she walked by. She went to the silverware drawer and she heard Carly sigh.

“Okay,” Quinn said
more seriously, “just tell me how things are going with Jesse.”

When she turned around, she saw that the previous
smile had fallen from Carly’s face. She shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell. Jesse is just…Jesse.”

“Mom said you stayed at Mandy’
s last weekend,” Quinn knowingly said. Their mother was either the most oblivious parent alive…or she was excellent at
pretending
to be oblivious. If she pretended to believe the stories her daughters fed her, she could pretend that they were following her rules. It was easier to avoid confrontation that way. So that is what Margo often did. She’d chosen to remain blissfully oblivious to her daughters’ exploits over the years.

“Mandy didn’
t even come home for the summer,” Carly said, speaking of her childhood best friend. A friend she often pretended to visit so that she had an excuse for not coming home at night. “Okay, yes. Fine. I stayed at Jesse’s. All weekend. Happy?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn honestly told her. “
Are you
? Are you happy?”

“I’m not
un
happy,” Carly said.

Quinn wasn’t sure if she should believe her or not. She couldn’t imagine jumping from one guy to the next the way Carly did.
Even worse than that, she couldn’t imagine having the kind of open relationship the two of them seemed to share. And while Carly always made it sound like it didn’t bother her, Quinn had a feeling that on some level it did. Because she was sure that her sister cared for Jesse way more than she’d ever admit.

“It’s just,” Carly started, taking Quinn by surprise, “I know I’ll never have what you and Jake have. I’m just not that kind of person. I don’t think I’m meant for commitment and long-term relationships.”

“Maybe not yet,” Quinn said. “But you will be ready for it one day.”

Carly didn’t look convinced of that at all. “I don’t know Quinn. I just don’t think I’m the kind of girl that guys think of that way.”

“Maybe,” Quinn carefully said, “that’s because you don’t let them think of you that way. You always keep your distance.”

Carly hesitated before saying. “I haven’t been keeping my distance from Jesse. Not really.”

“Soooo…?” Quinn pressed. “Do you think things are finally going to go somewhere with the two of you?”

A small smile flickered across Carly’s lips. “I don’t know,” she honestly replied. “Maybe?” She went to the fridge and took out a small bag of limes. She placed them on the counter and then handed Quinn a recipe card.

“What’s this?” Quinn asked. She assumed it was Carly’s attempt at changing the subject. She glanced at the card anyway, noting the familiar handwriting across the top. “Mom’s key lime pie recipe? Oh, yum! I haven’t had this in ages.”

Carly nodded and looked hopeful. “Can you teach me how to make it?”

Quinn scanned over the recipe. “Sure,” she said. “I’ve never made it before but it doesn’t look too hard. How happy is Dad going to be? He’s going to want you to make dinner every night,” Quinn teased. “Mom never makes dessert unless it’s for a special occasion.”

“Oh,” Carly said with a slight frown. “I’m not making it for you guys.”


Oh, really
?” Quinn drug out the question. She asked it with a knowing grin.

Carly breezed by Quinn as she went to the cupboard that held the mixing bowls.

“Key lime pie is Jesse’s favorite. He invited me over…you know, later tonight. After dinner.” She turned around with the big red bowl in her hands. She had an embarrassed expression on her face. “I just…I thought it would be nice if I brought him dessert.”

Quinn thought of all of the ways that she could tease her sister over that comment. But she didn’t. Admitting to wanting to bake Jesse a pie—when baking was
so
not her thing—was tantamount to Carly totally laying her heart out for Quinn to see. She knew that in her own way, this was Carly trying to be the kind of woman
she
thought a guy would want to keep.

Quinn didn’t exactly agree. She thought Carly had a set of wonderful qualities all her own. Qualities any man would love to have in a woman. But she also could tell by the cautious way her sister was looking at her that she wasn’t in the mood to discuss it.

“Okay then,” Quinn said happily. She reached for the bag of limes. “Let’s teach you how to bake that man a pie.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10

“A
re you crying?” Quinn whispered across the empty space. A smile was fighting its way onto her lips. She was trying hard not to allow it complete access.

“What?” Jake asked as he cleared his throat. “No!”

But he wouldn’t look at her. Instead, he wandered over to the paper-covered bulletin board that hung on a wall in the small room. He stood with his back to her. His hands were in his pockets. Apparently he was more interested in reading about the warning signs of diabetes than he was in facing his wife.

“Aw, Jake, that’s so sweet,” Quinn cooed as she slipped her shoes back on.

She was now in the second trimester and their latest appointment had just ended. Everything was looking good and everything was right on schedule. The doctor had just left the examination room after finding their baby’s heartbeat. It was their second appointment. Jake had accompanied her to the first one as well. The first time he’d pretended that he hadn’t gotten all teary eyed when they heard their little one’s heartbeat
whoosh-whooshing
through the monitor. Quinn hadn’t been sure so she’d let it go.

But this time, there was no doubt.
Quinn had turned to Jake with a smile on her face. He was smiling too, though obviously deeply affected. Hearing his baby’s heartbeat had turned Jake to mush. Quinn rubbed a comforting hand across his back as she let her smile take hold.

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