“And then I came along,” I repeated.
Quinn smiled. “And you showed me what it meant to be a woman.”
And because babies have impeccable timing when it comes to interrupting poignant moments, Helena let out a belting scream that could be heard even without a baby monitor.
I chuckled softly and got out of bed. I pulled on a pair of gray sweats and then followed Quinn to the nursery.
I scooped Helena from her crib, put her to my shoulder to soothe her, and then walked to the changing table. I changed her diaper quickly and then handed her off to Quinn, who’d already sat down in the comfortable padded rocking chair in the corner of the room. She opened her robe and put Helena to her breast.
“I could be convinced to have a party,” she said after a long while.
“Could you?” I asked as I leaned against the crib.
She nodded. “With good food and cocktails. Conversation with friends. Maybe a band. But I’m not wearing white and I’m not saying my vows in front of other people.”
“Quinn,” I began, “I have your vow every morning when I wake up next to you. If you want a party instead of a formal wedding, we’ll have a party.”
Her smile was slow and full of warmth.
A cell phone in the other room rang.
I arched a brow. “I’m guessing that’s Barrett and the clan calling to wish us a Merry Christmas.”
“Answer it,” she said. “And tell her our happy news.”
Chapter17
QUINN
Sasha tookthe baby from me and left the nursery. I headed to the bedroom and quickly threw on a pair of lounge pants and a sweater before going to the living room. I came up behind Sasha who was seated on the couch with a phone in his hand and a video chat open.
“Hi, Quinn,” Barrett greeted with a wide smile.
I smiled back. “Merry Christmas, Barrett.”
“Merry Christmas. Let’s spend it together in person next year.”
“We’d like that,” I said, speaking for both Sasha and I.
“It would be so much more convenient to spend holidays together if you just lived here. Are you sure I can’t convince you guys to move to Scotland?” she asked.
“The weather is too dreary,” Sasha said.
“Youthink the weather is too dreary? You. The Russian.”
I smiled to the camera. “The Russian won’t admit it, but he’s become fond of walks on the beach and sunshine.”
“Not the monotony of such an easy life, though,” Sasha stated. “I need a change.”
Barrett paused. “Are you guys moving back to New York?”
“At some point,” I said. “No time frame, though. But speaking of time frames…” I trailed off when Flynn appeared on the screen holding something in his arms that was swaddled in a gray blanket.
“Petrovich,” Flynn said.
“Campbell,” Sasha replied in the same droll tone.
But then Flynn grinned.
