I pulled back and faced Quinn. “You forgive me enough to help me with something?”
His brow rose. “Asking favors already? Shit. I knew something was up.” He sighed melodramatically. “What do you need?”
“Help me get back into shape.”
Mia looked over me and stated, “You’re in great shape, Har.”
I leaned my hip on the counter and explained, “Well, there’s this job I’m applying for that requires you to be in peak physical condition.”
Quinn shot me a look of confusion. “What job?”
I fought my grin. “I want to be a cop.”
Mia gasped loudly, looking from Quinn to me and clapping. “Oh, yay!”
“No shit,” Quinn beamed. “You and me, cops?” He shook his head, smiling hard. “Shit, we’re gonna be just like Turner and Hooch.”
“Hooch was a dog, dipshit.” I chuckled as I rolled my eyes.
Quinn nodded. “I know.” He smirked.
“You’re Hooch.”
Chapter Forty-Seven – Epilogue
Mia
A smiling Quinn took my hand and gently pulled me to him. He cradled me, rocking me from side-to-side. I had never felt this brand of happiness before in my life. I was immersed in it, drowning happily, never wanting to come up for air. We slow danced as Ed Sheeran sang thinking out loud.
It was our wedding day, and what was better was that it was Quinn’s birthday. I jokingly named the date and told him if we did it, he’d never forget an anniversary. He laughed as I said this, and then became mildly panicked, begging me to set the date.
We had a small church ceremony, and Father Brady, the same priest who had baptized both my brother and me, named us husband and wife. The only people we invited to join us were Mom, Harry, Terry and Bob, Ella and Mike, and Addison and Nick. We also extended an invitation to Quinn’s mother once I managed to track her down, but she kindly declined, claiming she had no right to attend.
I’d met with the woman who gave birth to my husband and had to admit—I was shocked. For someone as put together as Quinn, I didn’t picture a mature woman living in a trailer, smoking at least two packs a day and drinking whiskey at nine am, as his mother was.
Mama Quinn was a decent lady, but she was rough around the edges.
I’d asked Quinn if he’d like to see her, and he told me quite honestly that he wasn’t ready for that, but would never say never. I sent care packages to her every month, and she repaid me in affection. I quite liked our relationship.
My eyes roamed my husband and I took in his new tux. I smiled at the memory of our argument just the week before.
I pulled a garment bag out of Quinn’s closet. “What’s wrong with this tux? It’s a Ralph Lauren.”
Quinn scowled then mumbled, “It’s my hooker tux. I’m not wearing that tux.”
I rolled my eyes. “So? It probably cost a thousand dollars and looks amazing. Wear this.”
He threw himself back on the bed with a groan. “Mia, I’m not wearing the hooker tux on our wedding day.” I stared at him. After a moment, he raised his head and mock-whispered, “And, by the way, the suit was four grand.” He eyed me good. “What kind of nasty street-walker do you take me for?”
I huffed and looked down at the black suit peeking through the open zipper of the garment bag. “It looks good to me, honey.”
Our disagreement went on for another half-hour until Quinn got up, snatched the garment bag out of my hands, opened the window to his apartment, and threw it out, slamming the window closed again, all the while eyeing me in a way that said, ‘Say something…I dare you.’
My brows rose and I shrugged. “Okay. No hooker tux.” I walked into his laundry to place some of his tees into the washer. “We’ll go suit shopping tomorrow.”
He called out, “Love you,” but it came out muffled, and I just knew he’d placed a pillow over his face.
I chuckled to myself.
Quinn’s new tux was a three-piece and fitted him like a second skin. He wore it like he was born to, and secretly, I was glad he hadn’t worn the hooker tux.
We swayed from side to side, smiling into each other. He pressed a long kiss to my temple and uttered, “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”
I replied, “Only about a hundred times.” I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek to his. “Have I told you how handsome you look today?”
He sighed. “Not enough. Tell me again.” I smacked his stomach and he groaned before claiming, “Hey, I’m fragile. Tell me I’m pretty, dammit!”
I pulled back enough to look into those bright hazel eyes I loved with my heart and very soul.
My stomach flipped as it hit me.
I was now Mia Quinn.
Now, I wasn’t sure that I’d bloomed into the beautiful butterfly Quinn had drunkenly predicted all those years ago, but my life had flourished in a way I’d never thought it could.
I owed it all to Matt Quinn, and we were going to live happily ever after.
THE END
A note from Belle:
Hi there,
Thank you so much for taking the time to read ABOUT LAST NIGHT. I hope you loved Mia and Quinn as much as I do. It would help a great deal if you would please take the time to leave a review :)
Here’s a very small excerpt from AND ANOTHER THING, Harry’s book (no assigned release date as yet).
**********
I looked across the table at the little girl sitting by her mothers side. My mind went blank a moment before it started to do the math.
She was four.
The conversations around us went on, but Grace kept her eyes on me as I watched Faith closely. She looked pale, uneasy.
Faith was four.
My bet was that she was almost five.
A chill went down my spine.
Suddenly, I felt as though I couldn’t take in a single breath. Standing so abruptly that my chair damn near flung back, I absently rubbed at the ache in my chest. “When is her birthday?”
The table went silent around me.
Mia’s brow furrowed and she asked a confused. “Whose birthday, Har?”
My eyes landed on Grace. “When is Faith’s birthday?”
I knew her answer before she even spoke. She stared at me a long moment, petrified, before mumbling a shaky, “February.”
My eyes closed and I let out a harsh laugh. I didn’t need to ask the next question but as my entire life had just imploded, I dared to ask, if not for anything but confirmation. In dead calm, I spoke, “Is she mine?”
The entire table stayed quiet, apart from Terry’s loud gasped, “No!”
All eyes turns on Grace awaiting her answer.
Her response would change my life forever. Eyes shining, she swallowed hard, body trembling and whispered, “Yes, Harry. She’s yours.”
Terry snorted a laugh, mock-whispering, “Well, that’s some Jerry Springer shit right there. Cheers!” before raising his glass then downing his wine in one large gulp.
I stood tall, fury raging through my body, and looked into Grace’s beautiful green eyes. I was livid, but somehow managed to hide it. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
My feet took me as far as the parking lot before I started to hyperventilate.
What the fuck just happened?