Claire moved her hand away.
‘Thank you. I needed to hear that.’
‘And I needed to hear you tell me you tried,’ Quinn said. ‘For a while, I didn’t think you did.’
‘I did.’
‘I know. I don’t think I’d considered how hard this might be for you. It’s not your fault, Mum. It’s me, a small business, against a big firm. We all know who wins in these instances.’
Claire shrunk into her chair, crossing her arms. ‘Don’t give up.’
‘I won’t.’
They fell quiet, both listening to the jazz music and the happier customers around them. The server appeared, asking if they wanted anything else, though Quinn wondered if she sensed something was wrong at the table.
‘All good here.’
‘Great,’ the server said. ‘By the way, my cousin came into your shop. Loved the place.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’m very proud of him.’ Claire beamed.
‘Hope it gets saved,’ the server added before heading back to her job.
Quinn traced a finger over the rim of his mug as his mum leaned forwards, resting her elbows on the table.
‘Can I come to the protest?’
Quinn’s eyes widened. ‘You want to?’
‘Yes,’ Claire said. ‘Maybe if Harold sees me there, it will hit home what he’s doing.’
‘Yes, you can come to the protest.’ Quinn tilted his head. ‘But is that an excuse to come to the party afterwards?’
‘Absolutely. I’ve got my dress picked out already.’
They laughed, any tension beginning to dissolve between them. It almost felt like an hour of therapy to Quinn. He knew he could go about the rest of this week feeling a little lighter, knowing that whatever the outcome, his relationship with his mother would not suffer.
Claire raised her mug. ‘To Kings & Queens.’
Quinn clinked his own mug with hers. ‘To Kings & Queens.’
ChapterThirty-Six
‘Let’s go Christmas tree shopping.’
‘Ivy, Christmas is in two days,’ Quinn said. ‘You haven’t got a Christmas tree?’
‘Oh, it’s not for me. My house has been decorated since November.’
‘Then who is it for?’
‘Hermione.’
He felt a kick in his stomach. Last night, a bottle of wine down and on his second Christmas romcom, his vibrator lying just inches away, he’d wondered if he should call off his deal with Hermione, even though the ink on the contract wasn’t even dry. If you could call a digital signature ink, that is. The idea of writing for Noah’s mum, hearing her story, and hearing stories ofhimmade him feel odd, like he was nostalgic for something he never had.
The only thing that had convinced him to stay was watching Hermione’s last Christmas film, and seeing how talented, charismatic, and engaging she was on screen. Of course, he watched that when the vibrator was tucked away. Thank you very much.
