Quinn
I swear to God, I would give just about anything to be able to stop time, just for this week.
Alessandra leaves me in four days. It’s been business as usual lately, all our girls showing up on time, all our clients paying in a timely manner. But even while business is booming and my brothers are in high spirits, I can’t shake the uneasy feeling creeping over me the closer Alessandra’s departure date becomes.
For the first time in my life, I feel helpless. What can I possibly do? Ask her to change her mind? And for what. . . to stay in Boston and be a nanny? Italy is her passion, the dream she’s held on to for as long as she can remember. What kind of man would I be if I asked her to give that up?
I promised myself a few days ago to let her go. To make the most of this last week with her and take her departure like a man. There are certain things I just can’t offer her. The dream life she’s planned for herself in Italy is one of them. So, for now, all that’s left for me to do is make her remaining time here as magical and painless as possible. And that starts with an incredible dinner-and ends with mind-blowing sex.
Just as I pull out my phone to text her and confirm our dinner plans later, a ping draws my attention to my computer where a new email notification has popped up. At first, I don’t recognize the address. I put my phone back down on my desk and frown at the screen as I click open the email, and the first line makes my heart skip a beat.
Mr. Kingsley-Found information regarding your mother’s family. Call for details.
I read the email, then read it again, my eyes moving so quickly that the words blur together. When I hired a private investigator after Alessandra suggested it, I didn’t think anything would come of it. I’ve heard so many stories about these guys being major scams, half of me is screaming that this is just another lie, another asshole out to make a buck off my sentimental curiosity.
But the other half of me needs to know exactly what this asshole thinks he found.
I pick up my phone and immediately dial the PI’s number, my heart racing five times faster than it was a second ago. The phone rings longer than I expected, and just as I’m about to hang up, throwing away the possibility of a larger family, I’m stopped by a gruff, scratchy voice.
“Yeah, all right, what is it?”
I roll my eyes. Why does this guy have to be such a fucking stereotype? “This is Quinn Kingsley. I just got your email.”
He clears his throat. “Right, Mr. Kingsley. You might want to sit down for this.”
“Already got that covered, thanks.” Just spit it out, already.
“Well, I ran your mother’s name through some different databases, and, uh, it looks like she gave up a baby for adoption about thirty-six years ago. A boy. I found the guy’s address if you’re interested.”
The investigator keeps talking but I tune him out, my mind suddenly fuzzy and blank. A baby?
What the fuck is going on?
“Listen, I don’t know what you think you found,” I say, cutting him off, “but that’s impossible. I have two brothers, and there’s no way our mother would have kept a fourth one from us.”
“I only found a first name,” he says, ignoring my comments. “It’s, uh. . . William. He’s thirty-seven and lives in a suburb outside the city.”
Thirty-seven. That puts him right between me and Gavin.
Holy fucking shit.
I quickly wrap up the conversation with the PI, who doesn’t have any more information to offer. He tells me the bill should arrive in the mail this week, and I tell him I’ll pay him extra if he can find me a way to contact this guy. Phone number, home address, email. . . hell, at this point I’ll take carrier pigeon.
When I hang up the phone, I’m still reeling from the news. Another brother. After all these years…
Suddenly, Cooper comes bursting through my office door, a large stack of folders in his hands, already explaining what forms I need to sign. But the moment he sees the shock plastered on my face, he replaces his serious business tone with a sly, mocking one.
“What, did your nineteen-year-old girlfriend dump you or something? Was it a problem with her bedtime?”
I don’t answer, instead burying my face in my hands, my elbows propped on my desk.
“Hey, look, man, I’m sorry. I know she’s twenty-two; I’m just busting your balls. Breakups are, uh, hard. Trust me, if anyone understands, it’s me.”
Cooper’s words barely register with me. I still can’t believe that we have another brother.
“Seriously, dude, what’s going on?” He sets the folders down on the edge of my desk.
I run my hands roughly over my face before sighing and looking my brother in the eye. “You might want to sit down.”
He sits, and I explain to him what I just learned from the private investigator. After Cooper’s initial shock wears off, we agree to set this information aside for now and tell Gavin together when he gets back from a work trip to Florida.
As Cooper stands to leave, he shakes his head and chuckles. “I seriously thought when I first walked in that something had happened with Alessandra.”
“Yeah, well. That’s a whole other issue. This is her last week in America.”
“Fuck, dude. Better make the most of it.”
• • •
The rest of the week flies by in a blur. Alessandra and I spend every free moment we have together, grabbing a delicious bite to eat and making love with more urgency and passion than ever before. I’ve had a hard time focusing on work all week-Alessandra has picked up the habit of sending me dirty texts in Italian, just in case anyone catches a glimpse of one of our messages.
Earlier in the week, Alessandra had to cancel our hastily scheduled quickie to babysit the kids for an extra half hour. Apparently, Lorraine got stuck in traffic, and even though the kids were asleep, someone had to be there to watch them. We would have moved our quickie to later, but I had a work function to attend that my brothers couldn’t cover, so Alessandra and I resolved to spend that half hour on the phone, laughing and chatting and doing everything in our power to pretend our relationship wouldn’t be ending in a matter of days.
Now the week is almost over. She’s leaving tomorrow, and I haven’t seen her all day. Deanna planned a small get-together for Alessandra tonight, and even though she invited me, I decided it would be best if I let her friends have her for the night. Lord knows we’d never be able to keep our eyes-or our hands-off each other.
I decide to send Alessandra one last dirty text for the night, just to tide her over until our last date before she leaves tomorrow evening.
You can’t imagine what I will do to you later.
She responds: I have some ideas.
I spend the rest of the night finishing as much work as I can so that my time with Alessandra tomorrow can be as long and meaningful as possible. But in the back of my mind throughout the rest of my night, I can’t do anything to silence the small, panicked voice in the back of my mind saying, What the hell am I gonna do when the woman I love leaves?