Page 84 of A Simple Life

I leaned over the table, smiling at Abby. “What was your favorite part?”

“The dolphins,” she replied immediately, holding up the pink heart-covered stuffed dolphin I had bought her at the gift shop. “And the sharks,” she added. “The colored jelly ones. All the fishes!”

“So, all of it?” I asked.

“Yes!”

She’d been in awe. Turning her head constantly so as not to miss anything. Asking questions, staring at the overhead tunnel, laughing in delight at the antics of some of the fish and the dolphins. Quinn had been entranced as well, and I was glad I had been before since I had a hard time tearing my gaze away from their enjoyment.

On the elevator ride up the CN Tower, Abby had been nervous, but she relaxed when I picked her up, and she nestled into my side. In the restaurant, she had looked around, mesmerized by the view from the table, but unimpressed otherwise. The lunch was really more for Quinn. Luckily, they had a decent kids menu, and Abby was enthusiastic about the chicken fingers option.

Quinn sipped her wine, staring at the vast expanse laid out before us. We had selected the charcuterie appetizer, and I ordered the steak, while Quinn chose the blackened chicken. Abby snacked on a few bits from our appetizer and was now busy chatting up her new stuffie, telling her all about Enid and Fluffy.

I leaned over to Quinn. “Having a good day so far, darlin’?”

“Amazing,” she replied.

“We’ll check in to the hotel after, then walk over to the boat.”

There was a small ruckus at a table across the restaurant, a man’s condescending tone reaching my ears. I shared a grimace with Quinn. “Someone’s not happy.”

“I used to hate going to restaurants with Preston. He always complained about something. Demanded to speak to the manager and get some sort of compensation. I found it embarrassing.”

“Some people are like that.”

Our food arrived, and I rubbed my hands together. “Ignore them and let’s enjoy our meal.”

Quinn nodded. “Sounds good.”

We ate and talked about the aquarium and the upcoming boat trip. Abby, as usual, was droll and clever, making me laugh. I had preordered dessert, and Quinn’s eyes were round, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as a small cake was placed on the table and the staff sang happy birthday to her. We ate the rich dessert, somehow finishing the whole thing, even as we protested about being too full. It was a great lunch, and I was almost giddy with how well the day was going.

That feeling came to a complete and abrupt halt as we headed to the elevator, Abby between us. The lobby area was empty except for one couple waiting already, their backs to us. There was something recognizable about the woman, but I couldn’t place her. Something about her height and the tilt of her head seemed familiar. The man beside her spoke, and I recognized the timbre of his voice as the complainer in the restaurant. Quinn gasped quietly when he talked, stepping back. I looked at her, concerned, as the couple turned and the identity of the woman became clear to me. As did the man to Quinn.

Quinn’s voice was horrified as she spoke.

“Preston?”

I glared at the woman clinging to his arm, my voice a low snarl.

“Moira.”

QUINN

For a moment, we all stared. I felt as if I were trapped in some farce, and I waited for someone to yell Gotcha! But it didn’t happen. Abby pressed into my side, staring up at her father, her grip on my hand tightening. I felt John’s anger, and I stared at the woman standing beside my ex.

There was no denying she was beautiful. Her hair and makeup perfect. Her clothes probably worth more than my rent for a month. But if you looked closely, you saw the coldness in her eyes, the pinched look on her face, and the boredom of her expression.

Preston had changed since I’d seen him last. Though he’d always been tall and lanky, now his shoulders were more rounded than before, his posture not as stiff as it used to be. He’d grown a beard, and his hair, something he’d fussed and preened over, had thinned some and was now more gray than dark. He wore glasses, another new addition, and the frown lines around his mouth and forehead were deep. He looked discontented and haughty.

A look that only grew when he saw me and Abby.

“Quinn,” he said in a mocking tone. “What a surprise to see you.” His gaze flickered to Abby. “And Abigail.”

“Abby,” she responded.

He lifted his eyebrows. “Typical,” he muttered.

John made a low noise in his throat, and Preston cast a look at him, slowly taking in his stance. His gaze lingered on his boots. He chuckled, the sound dry and nasty. “Dating a cowboy now, Quinn? How…quaint.”