About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(92)

I stopped mid-step and tried again. “Mia’s my sister, Quinn. And you…”

…stepped in where you weren’t needed?

Are you f*cking serious, man? Just say what you need to say.

I breathed deeply and spoke the words calmly, even though my heart was racing. I spoke to Quinn first. “I said some things to you that I didn’t mean. I mean, you deserved them, but they weren’t true.” His brows raised, but a faint look of amusement passed his face.

I spoke to Mia next, stepping forward, wanting her to look me in the eye. “You told me you loved Quinn before I even knew it was him. I told you I hoped it would work out between you guys, because…” I paused, lowering my voice to a hush, “…because I could see, even then, that you were in love with this nameless, faceless guy. You deserve to be happy, Mia. I’ve never wanted anything more than for you to be happy.” My throat thickened with emotion. “And I took happiness away from you by the way I reacted to your relationship with Quinn. I made you miserable.”

She swallowed as she blinked back tears.

My heart broke.

I reached out and took her small hand from her side, holding it between both of mine. “I am so sorry, Minnie.” I closed my eyes and forced out the words. “I love you and hope that you can forgive a stubborn * for not supporting you when you needed it most.”

A sniffle sounded, then she flung herself at me, her arms cinching around my waist like a vise. Her tears stained the front of my shirt, but I didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around her and held her as though it would be the very last time.

She cried, and cried, until finally, she pulled back and punched me right in the gut. My breath left me in a whoosh, and she yelled a broken, “You are an *!” Then she pulled me back in for another hug, part wailing, part laughing.

Quinn looked down at Mia and muttered out the side of his mouth, “So that’s why they call it ugly-crying.”

Mia laughed in outrage, swiping away tears, elbowing Quinn in the ribs. “You’re an *, too.”

I smiled at them, relief releasing all the pent-up tension in my shoulders. I kept my eyes on Quinn. “We good?”

“Depends,” he stated slyly.

My eyes narrowed. “On what?”

“On if you’re going to be the best man at our wedding,” he challenged.

I sniffed a laugh, half relieved. “Yeah, man. I think I can do that.”

He held out his hand and I took it immediately, pulling him in for a man-hug. We slapped each other on the back, and I uttered, “Congratulations, guys. I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Thanks, man,” Quinn responded, while Mia simply smiled.

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 FortySeven – 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.