Quentin crunched into his apple. “Need help setting the table?”
“No, thank you. I’m almost finished.” She poked him playfully in the ribs. “You don’t know the proper way to fold napkins anyway.”
He grinned. “Didn’t seem like a skill I’d need in order to practice law.”
She laughed. “Go on with you, boy.”
Chuckling, Quentin wandered across the sun-drenched room, which was surrounded by walls of glass and overlooked a lushly manicured backyard. It was his mother’s favorite room in the elegant Victorian house he’d bought for her when he made partner at his old law firm. Although he knew he could never repay her for all she’d done for him, that had never stopped him from lavishing expensive gifts on her.
Georgina came from a proud old Southern family who’d disinherited her when she married Quentin’s father—a brash young amateur boxer from the wrong side of the tracks. After Quentin was born, Fraser Reddick had traded in his boxing gloves for a badge and a steady paycheck. But he’d never forgotten his first love. Quentin’s fondest childhood memories included trips to the gym with his father, who’d taken him into the ring and taught him how to box. The first victim of Quentin’s vicious left hook was a neighborhood bully who’d made the mistake of calling him a pretty boy. That offense, coupled with a lewd slur about Quentin’s mother, had landed the tyrant in the emergency room. Furious and appalled by his violent behavior, Georgina had grounded Quentin for a month and forbade his father from giving him any more boxing lessons. But whenever her back was turned, Fraser had winked at Quentin and whispered proudly, “How’s my champ doing? Man, what a bruiser!”
Quentin smiled now at the memory. God, he missed his father. Although Sterling Wolf had become like a surrogate dad to him over the years, no one could ever fill the void left by Fraser Reddick. Which was probably why Quentin’s mother had never remarried. She’d loved Fraser so much that she’d defied her powerful family and forfeited her inheritance to be with him. Even after he died, she hadn’t gone crawling back to her parents to beg their forgiveness. Instead she’d channeled her grief into raising Quentin and making sure that he never lacked for anything. Georgina was the epitome of a steel magnolia.
“So, June bug, I didn’t expect to see you until Reese’s baby shower this evening.”
Pulled out of his reverie, Quentin turned from the window. “I know. I figured I’d surprise you.”
Georgina glanced up from arranging silverware on the table. “You did surprise me. Made my day, too.”
They traded affectionate smiles.
As Quentin walked over and discarded his apple core in a plastic trash bag filled with cut flower stems, his mother asked, “How’s Alexis?”
“She’s good.” He smiled softly. “We’re good.”
“We?”Pausing in her task, Georgina arched a finely sculpted brow. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
As Quentin grinned at her, he realized how much he’d looked forward to confiding in her. “Lexi and I are dating, Ma.”
She went still. “Is that so?”
He nodded, all but bouncing on his heels.
“Well.” A slow, pleased smile spread across Georgina’s face. “It’s about time.”
Quentin stared at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to wake up and realize you’re in love with that girl.”
“What?”Quentin exclaimed, startled. “No, Ma, you don’t understand. This just happened. While we were in France.”
Georgina smiled, shaking her head slowly at him. “Precious heart, you’ve been in love with Alexis for years.”
“Years!” Incredulous, he barked out a laugh. “Quit playing, Ma.”
“I’m not.”
“What in the world makes you think I’ve been in love with Lexi foryears?”
An intuitive gleam filled Georgina’s dark eyes. “A mother knows these things.” At his skeptical look, she sighed. “Okay. Since you’re a lawyer, I’ll support my case with evidence. Exhibit A? The way you look at Alexis. The way your eyes light up whenever you talk about her. The way you can’t help touching her, even for the briefest moments.”
Quentin swallowed. “Circumstantial. Those examples don’t prove anything.”
“All right, Counselor. How about this example? When Alexis got married four years ago, you took itveryhard.”
Quentin clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body going rigid.
His mother’s expression gentled. “I watched you during the wedding ceremony. You looked positively tortured, sweetheart. When the minister asked if anyone objected to the marriage, I swore you’d be on your feet and charging down that aisle faster than I could say ‘Lord have mercy.’ And you weren’t very sociable at the reception either. Alexis had to practically beg you to dance with her. And the look on your face as you held her? Oh, baby, it just about broke my heart. And what did you do after the reception? You drove to Michael’s restaurant, sat alone at the bar and got drunk. Not drunk from too much celebrating. No, you got lick-your-wounds drunk. The bartender had to fetch Michael to drive you home, you were so incapacitated.” She paused, arching a brow. “Strange behavior from someone whose best friend had just gotten married, don’t you think?”
