Page 29 of What Love Can Do
“Holy…” Con murmured next to him.
It wasn’t so much that the ocean was wide and all-encompassing, it was more the feeling of insignificance that struck him more than anything. He was nothing, just a speck of meat and bones living on a big rock, which was really a tiny pebble in the vast universe. He tried to make sense of things, but in the grand, overall view, he was nothing. They were all nothing—a tiny collection of cells. His heart could quit on him this very moment, but this ocean would keep roiling and churning, frothing and crying its salty tears against the rocks below forever.
“You’re speechless,” Lilly spoke quietly behind his shoulder. Her hand came up and rested on the middle of his back. It felt wonderful to have her hands on him. Even Con had nothing to say, but a smile, when Lilly returned to the car, saying. “I’ll go get the blanket.”
“Mistress of picnics, that’s what you are. You should have your own television show.” Quinn winked after her, then noticed the look his brother was giving him. “What?”
He watched her sashay away in tight leggings that hugged the curves of her hips and ass. God, he wished he could flip her over on this sandy cliff and lay his head right on that thing, if it weren’t for Con tagging along.
They spent the morning and afternoon lying on the blanket, talking about anything and everything. It’d been a hell of a long time since his last vacation, probably five years during a break in rugby season when he and Rita had gone to Manchester for a few days to visit her family. It had felt like a vacation then, since he never went anywhere, but thinking back, it was just a blip. But this—this was true bliss.
Resting his head on Lilly’s flat belly, as she sat up on her elbows and tossed blueberries into his open mouth, he realized his brother hadn’t said much since they’d arrived. Con was a free spirit who loved his yoga in spite of the razzing of his brothers, who drank fancy teas, and who loved hiking and romps with nature. For all of that, he had a sharp mind and glib tongue. He could win any argument just by outlasting his opponent, and he was a natural when it came to smooth-talking the ladies. The ocean, however, had silenced him, only not in the worrisome way his grief had of late. Granted, Quinn had known his brother was drawn to the water, but he’d never spent much time with him by the ocean. He’d never seen Con so mesmerized by anything in his life.
Quinn could almost convince himself that he and Lilly were alone here and to his amazement, as if reading his mind, Con got up and began walking along the edge of the shore.
Who knew the lad could be so damn thoughtful.
“Alone at last,” he growled to Lilly, who giggled, but there was a shadow in her eyes that didn’t belong there given the beauty of their surroundings.
“What’s troubling you, Lil?”
She looked startled, as if not quite believing he’d read her emotions so accurately. “I was just thinking about my internship. Four days have passed since I got the news and my mother still doesn’t know anything. I don’t know why I’m so stinkin’ scared of facing her.”
“You need to be assertive, Lil. You’re what—twenty-two, twenty-three?”
She smirked playfully and tugged on his hair. “Twenty-seven.”
“Eh, ya, you definitely need to say fuck it, and do what you want, say what you want, like you do with me.” Giving her a roguish smile, he braced himself for another smack on the head. This woman loved to smack him, not that he minded.
“That’s easy for you to say, Quinn. Your mom didn’t have an iron fist. Yours told you to go live a life, fly and be free. Not my mom. You have four brothers to carry on your parents’ name, but my mom and dad only had me. They put all their eggs in my basket, so to speak. If I don’t take over the bed-and-breakfast, who will?”
“I see what you mean,” he said, trying to be supportive.
“But you’re right, I need to tell her soon. I have no choice. My biggest fear, though, is what if I decide to be selfish and hurt my mom, and in the end I don’t succeed? What if I get all the way out to Miami and find out it was all a fluke? That my audition muffins were a one-time deal, that I can’t recreate the same brilliance again?”
“Lilly, Lilly,” he interrupted her. “That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Quinn told her. She was looking for excuses not to succeed. “Stop living the life your mam wants for you, and start living your own.”
“Strong words coming from the man who doesn’t know where he’s going from here,” Lilly cooed.
Ouch. He tightened up at her words, but she was right, and he couldn’t blame her for making that connection. Lilly had one up on him in that she knew where she was headed. Her life was planned out for the time being, whereas him? Nothing. He needed direction, and he needed it soon.
“Is he okay?” Lilly asked, looking at Con who was down the beach some ways, now sitting cross-legged and staring out at the ocean as if in a meditative state.
“Con’s fine, Lil. And you’re right, I don’t know for sure where I’m headed from here, but once I do know what I want, you can be damn sure I won’t let anyone stop me from getting it.”
“But what if, Quinn,” Lilly continued with her fearful talk. “Once I tell my mother, once I hurt her by leaving, there’s no going back. The damage is done. What if I finish the internship, open my business, and discover that I can’t handle the orders? Like, what if I get too many?”
Quinn rolled his eyes. “Lil, do you hear yourself? You’re scared you’ll be so successful, you won’t know what to do? For crikey’s sake, you cross that bridge when you get there. If—when—you get to that point, because you will, because your sweets, muffins, and what not, they’re fantastic. If you get to that point, you hire help. Eventually, you want to get to the point where you’re not the only one baking all the damned time. You’ve taught someone else how to recreate them the same, exact way you make them, and then you can walk away, go on vacation, see the world, whatever. But you’ll know that your muffins are being made exactly the way you like them.”
“Nobody can make them like I can,” she said not-so-humbly with an air of mock importance. “At least, I like telling myself that.”
“Sweetheart…” He shook his head. He’d tried telling his father the same thing about The Cranky Yankee. “You know why most small businesses fail? Because owners become managers, bakers, doers of everything. They refuse to give up control, and before they know it, they’re exhausted while everyone else is on vacation, and they can’t figure out why. Trust me, coming from someone who saw it in my mam and dad every day…train others to work for you. They make your lovely products exactly the same way you make them. And poof—you’re free to live.”
“Is that how you do it?” she said in a mocking tone.
“Yeah, that’s how you do it.”
She stared out at the waves a bit, seeming to think about what he’d said. “Have you given more thought to what you want to do next? And where?” she asked suddenly.