Natalie giggled again. “Hard to keep things like farting a secret, Mom. Plus, it was in Target and you tried to make me take the blame for it.”
Mick grinned and pulled Natalie in for a hug. “You know your mom’s going to be mad at me now, right?”
“Because now you know she farts a lot?”
Mick burst out laughing. So did Tilly.
Quinn groaned and covered her face. “You’re all going to be sorry someday when I’m gone and you have no one to laugh at.”
Tilly’s smile went from amused to nostalgic.
“What?” Quinn asked.
Tilly shrugged. “Mom used to say that.”
“Help me up,” Quinn demanded of Mick, who hoisted her out of the chair. She then moved to Tilly at the counter and wrapped her arms around her.
Tilly sighed. When Quinn was pregnant, she got very emotional. And very huggy. There was no fighting it so she hugged her sister back and set her head on her shoulder.
Natalie tapped on Tilly’s shoulder and then crawled into her lap to join the hug. Tilly felt her throat tighten and her eyes burn. She had no idea where she would be without Quinn in her life. And by extension, Mick and Natalie. They were her family, her only family, and they meant everything. Quinn sniffled and Tilly knew she felt the same.
“Can we have pizza now?” Nat asked between them.
Tilly laughed, relieved the emotional moment was over, thwarted by the mention of pizza. “Yes, please.”
After dinner, Quinn walked Tilly out. The night was gloriously clear, nothing but stars glittering like diamonds across a black velvet night.
“So what’s up?” Quinn asked. “You’re . . . off.”
“I’m not.”
“Liar.”
Tilly sighed. “It’s no big deal.”
“Then spit it out.”
“I’m suddenly feeling . . .” She tossed up her hands. “This weird sense of disappointment that I’m not some famous artist.” She waited for Quinn to laugh.
But her sister slipped an arm around her waist and didn’t laugh. “You’re feeling dissatisfied with your life.”
Tilly’d had goals for herself. She hadn’t met them. Dylan’d had goals too, and though things hadn’t happened as he’d planned, he’d done something with his life. Something pretty amazing. He’d served his country. He’d seen the world, flying as a pilot for hire. And now he was his own boss. He’d gone from punk-ass kid to soldier to pilot to businessman.
And she . . . well, she dabbled in the arts. “Yeah,” she said to her sister. “I’m dissatisfied. There’s an art fair in San Luis Obispo this weekend and I didn’t get chosen to be in it. It feels worthless, Quinn. I’m a nobody. I’ve done nothing with myself.”
“Stop it. You’re a great teacher.”
“I’ve been teaching for a week and a half,” Tilly said dryly.
Quinn shook her head. “What’s really wrong?”
Tilly sighed again. “Dylan’s in town.”
Quinn expressed no surprise and Tilly froze. “You knew,” she breathed. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”
“I knew only because I’m a nosy-ass wife. Dylan contacted Mick a few weeks ago looking for an attorney to draw up a partnership agreement for Wildstone Air Tours. I read the email. Trust me, I wanted to tell you—”
“But you didn’t.”
“Only because I knew it should come from him, not me. I knew he’d want to tell you he was back himself.”
Tilly laughed in disbelief. And hurt. And anger. “And what about what I would want? Or doesn’t that matter?”
“Tilly—”
“No, Quinn. No. I’m your sister. You know what he did to me, you know how I felt after he deserted me.”
Quinn bit her lower lip.
“What?”
“He never deserted you. He went away to give you the chance for a good life.”
Tilly stared at her. “Are you kidding me? You know this how?” When Quinn opened her mouth, Tilly put up her hand to stop her from speaking. “No, never mind. Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear you talk right now.”
“Tilly—”
She turned and got in her car. As she pulled out of the driveway, she caught sight of her sister standing on the sidewalk looking ten years pregnant, her arms wrapped around herself, and Tilly had to squash a flash of guilt to maintain her righteous anger.
She drove around for a bit, unsettled. Unhappy. Seeing Dylan, talking to him, had brought back a bunch of feelings from when she’d been a silly kid with silly hopes and dreams.
She’d been so naive.
Did he see her that way too?
She finally ended up at Mason’s place. They didn’t hang out as much as they used to but he was still a good friend. He lived in an apartment complex filled with mostly college students and shared a three bedroom with four other guys. He answered the door with a smile on his face, which faded quickly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Everything.”
“I’ve got a good way to solve your pain.” He waggled a brow. “Naked, of course.”
“We no longer soothe our collective pain,” she said. “We agreed about a year ago to stop doing that.”
“You agreed,” Mason said. “I’m just respecting your wishes.”
It was true. She hadn’t been with anyone in a long time. But though Mason was very attractive, she wasn’t feeling men right now.
Liar, a little voice inside her whispered. You’re feeling Dylan.
“The bar,” Mason said, reading her expression, taking her rejection good-naturedly, which was one reason he was such a good friend. “We’re going to the bar.”
“I’m broke.”
“My treat,” he said.
“You’re broke too.”
“There’s always money for a beer.” He put her into his car and off they went.
The Whiskey River Bar and Grill was the only game in town for nightlife. Which meant it was packed. Tilly was surprised to see that they’d even cleared some tables and put up a makeshift dance floor, which was rocking tonight.
“It’s the owner’s birthday,” Mason said. “Boomer wanted a dance party. Want to dance?”
Tilly heard him, but her gaze was caught and held by someone at the other end of the bar.
Dylan.
He was with Ric and Penn, but he broke away from them and came toward her until they stood toe to toe. “Sorry,” she said to Mason. “I can’t dance. I have to yell at someone.”
Mason divided a look between them, lifted his hands, and backed away, but not before muttering “good luck” to Dylan beneath his breath.
Dylan didn’t take his dark, serious eyes off Tilly.
“You talked to my sister,” she said. “You didn’t talk to me, but you talked to Quinn.” Having heard enough, she turned to leave, but Boomer took the mic.
“Everyone on the dance floor,” he said. “I want to dance with my wife and have you all with us.”
Tilly turned to leave but Dylan reached out and snagged her hand, moving slow enough that she could have easily evaded him if she wanted to. But apparently she didn’t want that because she let him wrap his warm fingers in hers and lead her to the dance floor, when he pulled her into his leanly muscled body. She opened her mouth to say something, not really even sure what that might be, but he put a finger to her lips.