Her face turned to look at him, tears forming over her bottom lashes. “She Came Back?”
“You came back, Keeks.”
Small sniffling sounds came from her direction and he lifted his arm to hug her shoulders, pulling her against him and kissing her temple. They didn’t say anything else for several minutes. There was nothing else needed. The dancer was Quinn’s expression of love and appreciation to her for returning to him.
It was all he’d ever wanted, and she had given that to him.
So he was giving this to her. His art, his fresh start in the world…for her.
She wiped at her face, turning to him. “It’s perfect, Quinn.”
“Come on, let’s go grab a glass of wine,” he told her. “People are starting to arrive. I’m going to need a little liquid courage.”
Kiera laughed, nodding her head. “God, yes. That sounds perfect.”
A few minutes later, they were both holding a glass and watching the patrons swirling around the gallery floor. There had been a small line outside, so the moment the doors opened, the room began to fill.
In all honesty, he was overwhelmed by the sight. They watched from a distance, trying to read the expressions of the people who circled his dancer.
“Babe, let’s get closer so we can hear what they’re saying.” Kiera nudged him.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I can see fine here.”
She didn’t argue, only squeezed his hand tighter. An older couple read the little plaque in front of his piece with the title and Quinn’s name, and they nodded several times before circling it again. A group of young women—students, maybe—engaged in a lively discussion with each other, pointing out different parts of the dancer with smiles on their faces. A lone man stood in front of it for at least five minutes, not circling or showing any expression, only staring. Several people snapped photographs, and someone even posed with it. That was a little weird, but the idea of his work possibly being posted online soon thrilled him.
“Ooh, there’s your mom!” Kiera pointed toward the gallery’s main door where Dee was now standing.
She looked lovely as always, dressed in a sparkly blazer and long skirt, her hair and makeup done. He hadn’t seen her so dressed up in a long time, and the effort made his heart warm. Not that she didn’t always look beautiful—she did—but she normally wore her hair in a loose bun with no makeup, and her outfits usually prioritized comfort over fashion. Even if his mother hadn’t told him fifteen million times, it was evident she was proud of him just from her presence.
He waved to her. “Ma!”
Her eyes landed on him, her face lighting up. His father stepped into the room behind her, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist. Jimmy walked in next. Then Casey. Then Kieran and Fiona, and Shea with the big pink earmuffs she always wore since she struggled with loud sounds. Kane and Nora waltzed in next, wrapped around each other as they always were. Rory and Clare came in last, his baby nephew in Rory’s arms and Clare’s baby bump already beginning to show.
The entire entrance was full of Kavanaghs.
“They’re all here,” Kiera said, emotion choking her words.
Every fear he’d had about being discovered, or teased, or whatever he’d thought might happen if his brothers found out, melted away. He’d thought having them here was the last thing he wanted, and yet now that they were, an empty part of him felt whole. They should be here to share his moment. He needed them with him.
They were boisterous and crazy and way too big, but they were almost as much a part of his work as he was.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he inhaled slowly. “They’re here.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Kiera replied, smiling at him with all the pride in the world.
He kissed her, one quick, sweet show of gratitude before they made their way back across the room to his family.
“So, I see you told everyone,” Quinn addressed his mother first.
Dee shrugged her small shoulders. “You knew I would.”
Quinn laughed and everyone exchanged hugs and hellos; it probably took a good five minutes to greet everybody. They all congratulated him, and there wasn’t a single naysayer among them.
“Which piece is yours, man?” Rory asked, patting Quinn’s back, his gray eyes already searching the room. “We’re dying to see it.”
Quinn pointed toward the dancer in the center of the room. “The metal sculpture there.”
“No shit?” Kane interrupted, a hand rubbing his freshly shaved face. Quinn hadn’t seen Kane shave for anything in a while, and the small detail touched him. “That’s you, Q?”
The entire family shuffled in the direction of the dancer, forming a semicircle around her. No one spoke. Everyone only stood and stared, taking in every inch of it.
Dee, sniffling and with her hands wiping at her face, said, “Quinny, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
Kiera nudged his arm, tipping her chin toward his mother as if to encourage him to go hug her. When he did, Dee squeezed his chest tightly, her tears wetting his suit. “I’m serious, mo mhac. I knew you were amazing, but this…” His mother gestured to the dancer. “This is magical, baby boy.”
“Your mother’s right, Quinn,” Seamus agreed, his light gray eyes showing more emotion than Quinn usually saw from his father. “This is impressive.”
Quinn’s brows lifted, absorbing the weight of his father’s approval. “Wow…thanks, Pops.”
Kane came up next to him and slapped him on the back. “Fuck, Q. I know I give you shit, but this right here is so much better than anything I’ve ever done in the ring.”
“Kane,” Quinn started. His brother was a world champion MMA fighter, so that was quite the exaggeration.
“No, man. I’m not pulling your chain. I’m serious. This is real, and this is powerful.” Kane patted his shoulder again. “I’m proud of you, man.”
“Uncle Quinny made that, Murphy,” Clare cooed to her son, bouncing him on her hip now as she pointed to the dancer. “Do you see that pretty sculpture? That’s by your uncle.”
Murphy reached out grabby hands toward Quinn.
Grinning, Quinn took his little nephew and cuddled him in his arms. “Hey, Murph.”
“He loves you,” Rory said, standing next to his wife. “Let’s hope he grows up like his favorite uncle.”
Kane rolled his eyes. “Not this ‘favorite uncle’ shit again.”
Quinn ignored Kane, instead lifting his gaze to his oldest brother, a welling of tears in his eyes at Rory’s words. “Thanks, man.”
He barely squeezed out more than a few words to the rest of his family as each of them showered him with praise. His family was completely serious, and completely supportive, and it meant the world to him. There was no teasing, no joking, no playing around. He wasn’t the family clown today. He wasn’t Kane’s agent. He wasn’t his father’s right-hand man.
He was Quinn, the artist. His own person. His own man.
“Thank you guys for coming,” he told them all, Kiera’s arm around his. He covered her hand with his, holding her tighter against him as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “You don’t know how much it means to me to have your support. I love you guys.”
“We love you, Quinny,” Dee gushed, running in for another hug.
“Shit, man, I’m half considering firing you as my manager so you can do this full-time,” Kane said, laughing. “You’re fucking talented, Q.”
Quinn grinned, almost hoping his brother would fire him. That was a decision for another night. Today was just about celebrating a new start, a new passion, and maybe a new dream.
“I always knew you were going places, Quinn,” Kieran pitched in. “Congratulations, because this is beyond anything I ever could have dreamed up.”
They all stayed for a few minutes before dispersing throughout the rest of the gallery and viewing the other artists’ works. Rory and Clare left first
because of the baby’s bedtime, and Kieran and Fiona weren’t far behind with Shea. Jimmy was there, but distracted as he worked on convincing a tall brunette to give him her phone number.
Trudy and Mandy came for a while, gushing over the piece. Quinn had spent years impressed by these women’s creative talent, so for them to return the compliment was high praise. They demanded to see his studio, and he relented that they could eventually. Finally, they headed home as well, having to relieve their babysitter.
Eventually, the evening waned; his family had gone, and the crowds had emptied. Quinn stepped into a cab with Kiera, ready to head home. They were both completely exhausted from the entire day, and its emotional heaviness.
“Hey, Keeks?” He turned to face her on the backseat as they headed to the Bronx, one hand on her knee.
Sleepy eyes looked back at him, a contented smile on her face. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
She nodded, a small chuckle weighed down with sleepiness emanating from her lips. “Well, duh. I’m fantastic.”
Quinn grinned, leaning back into the seat and closing his eyes. All he could hope was that when he opened them again, tonight wouldn’t have been a dream.
“Hey, Quinn?” Kiera lay her head against his shoulder, yawning loudly.
He opened his eyes, and kissed the top of her head. Both of her arms wrapped around one of his as she leaned into him.
“Yeah, Keeks?”
“I love you, too. I always have, but now it’s in an I-want-forever-with-you kind of way.” She placed a kiss against his shoulder. “I’m in love with you.”
Quinn kissed the top of her head once more. “I know, Keeks.”
“Good,” she replied, settling back against his shoulder and closing her eyes. “Also, we should discuss dresser space soon. I’m going to need at least one of your drawers for my clothes, but preferably five.”
He laughed, but his heart thumped in his chest with an overwhelming feeling of fullness—pure happiness. She was in love with him. This was real. They were all in.
He nuzzled his nose into her hair, whispering, “I love you, too.”
And definitely in an I-want-forever-with-you kind of way.
Chapter 24
“Bacon. Me. Good.” Kiera barely opened one eye, muttering her response to his breakfast food question.
“That’s it?” Quinn clarified, standing next to the bed. He’d woken up easily, still full of endorphins from last night. “Just bacon? No eggs? Toast?”
“Only if bacon is on it.”
He chuckled. “Okay, so bacon with a side of eggs and toast.”
“Hrmph,” she mumbled, pulling the pillow over her face and curling back under the covers.
Still chuckling to himself, Quinn pulled on a pair of sweatpants, letting them sit low on his hips as he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Last night had been a whirlwind, and he was still riding the high from seeing his art loved and appreciated by complete strangers from all over New York.
He spread toothpaste over his toothbrush and wet it with water under the faucet. Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror as he brushed, Quinn reminisced over the last few months of his life.
This time last year, he’d been on top of the world. His career had been his main focus, and while he’d enjoyed making metal sculptures and figures on the side, he hadn’t ever considered it more than a hobby. He’d traveled with Kane, made deals for him that made them both filthy rich, and actively recruited and signed new talent under the Kavanagh Legends brand.
Then the accident had happened. Winter thawed into spring and he hadn’t been able to enjoy a single moment of it. His recovery had been long and hard, but as spring turned into summer, he’d slowly begun to see glimpses of his old self again. Physical therapy with Kiera, rebuilding his strength at Legends gym, and the morning swims he did several days a week might not have brought him back to his former glory, but they had him walking without a cane and feeling normal again. The pain was less, medications fewer, and his confidence restored.
Now his career was going in a whole new direction—an artistic path he’d never before considered—and he loved it. He was still working for his father and his brother, but sharing the workload with Flynn a little more willingly. Quinn had definitely been unsure about the guy at first, but honestly, he was glad to have the help. Less time over there meant more time in his studio, and since the gallery had offered him another spot in their next showcase in the spring, as well as having received several offers for commissioned pieces, he could use the extra time.
Quinn knew he had Kiera to thank for almost all of his new life. She’d helped him get out of his own way, stop his pity party, and do what he needed to do to get better and chase dreams he hadn’t even known he had. Not once did she treat him like an invalid, or show even a flash of disgust at the scars on his legs or back, or doubt his art and talent. She accepted him wholeheartedly, and through her eyes, he’d learned to accept himself the way he was, too. She was pushing him to be the best version of himself, and he finally felt he had the direction and motivation to do just that.
Quinn rinsed out his mouth and grabbed a washcloth, preparing to clean his face.
Kiera was here almost every night, and he woke up to her gorgeous face every morning. It was, very literally, everything he’d ever wanted. She was everything he’d ever wanted. In fact, he wanted it so much he had already made a copy of his house key for her and he planned to present it to her today and ask her to move in with him.
Since returning to New York and giving up her apartment back in Seattle, she’d been technically living with her mom, but she spent almost every night with him. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind she’d say yes, but he didn’t just want to lob the question at her. He wanted it to be special somehow, a romantic moment, and that would take a little planning.
Quinn had almost asked her at Thanksgiving a few days ago, but his whole family had been there. They were a lot in general, but on the off chance Kiera said no to his proposal to move in together, he couldn’t risk his brothers seeing that. He’d considered making it a Christmas gift, but that was still over three weeks away and he wasn’t sure he could wait much longer.
Splashing his face with water, he rinsed himself clean and headed for the kitchen to begin making breakfast, his mind still contemplating possible romantic gestures. He grabbed a package of bacon out of the fridge, along with some eggs, cheese, and butter, and moved to set it all on the counter, then frowned when he couldn’t find any free space.
Stacks of mail and random clutter they’d dropped here over the last few days had taken over his counter. Quinn shoved some of the junk aside and laid the breakfast supplies down, then began sorting the mail into smaller piles. That done, he attacked everything else, putting things back where they belonged.
Kiera’s purse was splayed across the counter as well, so he lifted it by the handle and turned to carry it over to the side table by the front door. The handle slipped from his grasp and the purse flipped over; its contents immediately tumbled out and scattered across the floor.
“Fuck,” Quinn groaned, trying to catch several things in midair but failing miserably.
Exhaling loudly, he put the purse back on the counter and bent down to begin retrieving the spilled contents. His knee complained a bit at the motion, but he scooped everything up anyway. “How the hell did all this fit in that little bag in the first place?” he moaned, even though no one was around to hear him. Standing again, he put everything that had fallen back on the counter and began replacing the items.
…Seattle, Washington, for the upcoming spring term.
Quinn’s hand paused, his eyes flickering back to the words on the sheet of paper he’d just been sliding into Kiera’s purse. A familiar nervousness churned in his stomach as he pulled the paper back out and unfolded it so he could read the whole thing.
…your acceptance to the Myers Truman Physical Therapy Fellowship…Seattle, Washington…upcoming
spring term…a subsequent acceptance to the University of Washington…the remainder of your training…
Quinn dropped the letter back onto the cluttered counter, his hand flying to his stomach as a wave of nausea hit him so hard he was sure he’d lose it. One hand on the counter’s edge and his eyes closed, he inhaled slowly until he felt it pass.
This had to be wrong.
Opening his eyes, he picked up the letter again and checked the date.
“Shit,” he groaned quietly, reading the entire letter a second, and third, time.
The date was a little over a week ago, but there was no mistaking it was correct. This letter was about the January semester starting in a month…in Seattle! Based on the date it was mailed out, Kiera must have gotten it sometime in the last few days.
And she’d said nothing to him—not about the acceptance, or that she’d even applied to something that could take her thousands of miles away.
Quinn’s mind started running through the possibilities at hyperspeed. Maybe she’d wanted this fellowship from the start and he was just a distraction for her while she was here. Maybe she’d forgotten all about what sounded like the biggest opportunity of her life or was trying to find the best time to tell him she was leaving. Maybe she’d already turned it down and would spend the rest of their life together regretting what she’d given up.
“I must have been tired last night to have left my lipstick on the floor.”
Quinn spun around to see Kiera bending down to scoop up a small tube of lipstick he must have missed when it rolled out of her purse. She stood back up and smiled at him, displaying the metal tube in one hand.
“Kiera…” He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to even begin to ask her about the letter…to ask if she was leaving.
The smile on her lips slowly slipped away as her brows furrowed and her eyes flickered down to the letter in his hands. A look of horror overtook her as her eyes suddenly widened and she began shaking her head. “Quinn, that’s not what it looks like.”