I don’t know what to do except give him time to recover. I feel helpless as I watch Quinn struggle, frustration etched on his face.
“This is… why… I don’t… talk about her…” His head jerks upwards, and he blinks as though waking from a dream. “Ugh. I’m sorry.” Just like that, his voice is back to normal.
“You’ve got nothing to apologise for.”
“What I was trying to say is that I understand what it’s like to lose someone. I know the circumstances aren’t the same…”
“No,” I agree. “My mum is still out there somewhere. There’s a chance I could talk to her again, whereas you…” I tap the side of the tumbler. Is it a bad idea to pour another scotch? “I’m sorry.” I scratch my stubble. “God. That puts things into perspective. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I left it too late to contact Mum. If…” I shake my head. “But what would I gain from contacting her? If she wanted me and Beau in her life, surely she’d have been in touch by now?”
“Would knowing she’s okay give you some peace?”
I wipe my hand over my face. “Maybe. But I think I need more than that.”
Quinn arches his eyebrow.
“I need to know why she left us. I know that’s selfish.”
“No, it’s not.”
I stare into the empty tumbler. I do know how I’d feel if I left it too late to reach out to Mum. I’d hate myself. Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to call the private investigator to get the ball rolling, but I know I have to. Not that I can do anything about it right now.
I look at Quinn, who has been quietly waiting as I sift through my thoughts. “Thank you.”
He smiles sheepishly. “I’m not sure I did much. But if you ever need a sounding board again, let me know.”
“You did more than you know.” I want to reach across the table and put my hand over his.
Quinn clears his throat. “I think I’ve annoyed you for long enough.” He stands. “I’m going to go to the lounge to do some work.”
“Quinn.”
He pauses.
“Thanks for the chat.”
“You’ve already done that.” He smiles softly. “As I said, anytime.”
“For the record, you weren’t annoying me. I don’t think you could ever annoy me.”
Quinn’s eyelashes flutter. His smile widens. “Umm, thanks.” He nods to the photo. “Was that your happiest memory of you and your mum?”
I drop my gaze to the photo. It’s of me, Beau, and Mum on a beach in Corfu. “Yes.”
“I have a couple of photos like that too. When I look at them, I try to remember the good times instead of the sadness I feel now.”
I return his stare. “Does it help?”
“Sometimes. I know our situations are different, but I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
“Thank you. You’re amazing.”
Quinn blushes and grips the table. “Do me a favour?”
“Anything.”
“Save the compliments for when I’m sitting down? If they make me feel too good, I might end up on the floor.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
