You Had Me At -- ON HOLD --

Chapter 9

My classes ended the first week of December. I had several weeks off and I decided to go home for a few weeks but intended to be back in Charlotte for the holidays. Quinn's birthday was on the twenty-third of the month, and I wanted to be there for him since there really was no one else for him to spend time with other than his teammates, and as he'd pointed out many times, he spent enough time with them. Nevertheless, his teammates were going to take him out to for a night on the town, but were they going to make him dinner and a cake? Likely not.

I spent time in Ottawa with my parents and sister. I loved being able to catch up with my sister and have a pre-Christmas celebration with my parents. I was relieved that my father didn't ask me if there was a chance I'd might reunite with Luc. Every trip, without fail, he pointed out all the wonderful things about my ex. Why did he always manage to forget the terrible things?

Two nights before I left I called Luc and we met for dinner. It was my way of extending an olive branch and keeping our relationship friendly, although I'm not sure why. I didn't owe him a thing.

He was surprised to hear from me and immediately jumped at the opportunity. We met at a small French restaurant he frequented with out-of-town guests. When I saw him I felt my heart jump in my chest. It had been so long since I'd last seen him and yet he hadn't changed a bit. He was still the same man I'd fallen in love with so many years ago. He kissed me lightly on the cheek and helped me into my seat.

"You look wonderful, Claire," he said with his adorable accent. He hadn't learned English until his teens and the seductive accent had always enveloped me, not to mention scores of other women. My sister had let slip—well, intentionally let it slip—that Luc had an active dating life. It was her way of letting me know she didn't think we should ever get back together.

"How have you been, Luc?" I asked, sipping some white wine. I needed something to get me through this evening, but not too much that I'd do something I'd regret.

"I've been good. I've been thinking about you a lot. I wanted to call you on Emily's birthday, but it was too painful."

Funny enough, I hadn't thought about him on her birthday. Not once had he even crossed my mind. There was simply too much pain there. "I think about her all the time, you know." I could feel a tear well up in my eyes. Emily had his beautiful blue eyes, childlike and full of life. Every time I looked into his eyes I saw her and it tugged so painfully at my heart. "Let's not talk about it, all right?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. How is Charlotte?"

"Good. I'm teaching and it feels good. I'm glad I made the decision to go."

He laughed and reached across the table for my hand. "I'm happy that you're happy, but I miss you every day."

Miss me? When I was around, he barely remembered I was there. Just like he'd barely remembered about Emily being there. I would never forget that day, and it burned in my memory. I'd left him with our daughter for only an hour. I'd gone to pick up an evening dress for a fundraiser the following week. My instincts had told me to take her along, but she'd insisted on staying with her father. When I'd returned I saw Luc on the phone with a colleague, oblivious to everything around him. I asked him where she was, interrupting his call. He seemed annoyed and shrugged. I began to panic. As wonderful a daughter she was, Emily was extremely inquisitive. I called her name and searched for her throughout the house. She would have answered, I knew that much. I then thought of the pool, the pool I'd always hated. I remembered running out the patio doors and seeing her lifeless body floating. I dove into the water to pull her out. By then Luc had ended his call and come to see what had happened.

"Call 9-11," I had screamed to him as I pulled her out of the water and began with mouth-to-mouth recitation. How scared had she been in that water? Wondering where we were? Struggling to breathe? How that day haunted me as I tried to wake her up, but I knew she was dead. By the appearance of her body, the color of her skin, there was no hope of breathing life into her. But I tried and tried until the paramedics came. One of them pulled me away from my dead daughter and the last thing I remembered clearly about that day was staring into Luc's blue eyes as anger, loss and hatred began to boil within me.

"How are your parents?" I asked.

"They want to hear from you."

"I should call them."

He frowned a little "They still are hoping for us."

I wasn't caving on this. "I thought a divorce would solve that."

"They love you a lot."

Part of me wanted to believe that, but his political aspirations meant more to him than I ever would. And the fact his daughter had died under his watch... well, that had hurt his political career more than anything else could have.

"I've started a new life, Luc."

"I know and it doesn't include me. I've accepted that." He shifted in his seat, and I knew he was about to change the subject. "I have some business in South Carolina in February, it would be nice to come visit you."

"That would be nice." I could have told him all about Quinn but I held back. The less he knew about my life the better. "We'll have to try to meet up." But I'd avoid it if I could.

"I'd like that. "

***

The rest of my trip was uneventful and soon I found myself back in Charlotte again and at one of Quinn's games. During a game against Sacramento, Quinn fell onto a spectator just behind the home basket. Normally, it would have been harmless except for the man's pen lodged deep into Quinn's thigh. No one was clear on how the freak accident occurred, but he was immediately taken from the game and to the nearest hospital just in case of infection. His screams could be heard throughout the crowd as he was taken off court. I was concerned for him and wanted to leave the game and attend the hospital myself, but it was Goran who texted me later in the game that the pen had been removed and Quinn had been given a tetanus shot in the event there was infection.

I went by his place late that night. He hobbled to the door then hobbled back to his sofa and propped the leg up on a coffee table he'd bought a few weeks ago. He was wearing shorts and the affected leg was bandaged.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Now I know what it must feel like to have a fork plunged into you."

"How the hell did that happen?" I asked, trying not to laugh at his misfortune.

"How should I know?" he said angrily. "Apparently, the guy was writing something down when I landed on him."

It was such an odd injury, and if Quinn had a to miss a bunch of games he'd be pissed. "How long are you out?"

"Maybe a week. It's not that bad but it's getting sore."

"What did the doctor tell you?" I asked, sitting next to him and staring at the leg. He had very nice legs. How had I not noticed before?

"I'm supposed to keep my weight off of it a few days, but I should be okay by the weekend."

"Are you still going out with the guys?"

"Of course. I deserve a celebration. You are more than welcome to come, Claire."

"I'll have you to myself on Sunday, providing you are free of any drunken stupor."

"I wouldn't miss a meal at your place."

I often wondered what Quinn truly thought of me. Was a sisterly figure in his life, or worse yet a motherly figure? I was certain he had no notions of romance when I'd seen the few girls he dated. If they dated more than a few weeks they would sit with me at the game and then Quinn would quiz me later on what I thought of them. Most of them were bleach blondes with perfect bodies. I assumed they were for sexual purposes only although I never asked and never thought to. What he did with his female friends were none of my business.

Yet, every time there was a new one I felt a little more bad about myself. Obviously, if he'd found me the least bit attractive then the women he dated would surely resemble me in some way, but they never did. No, I was sure he saw me as only a friend, but how did I see him? I couldn't answer that just yet, or worse, I didn't want to answer it.