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“A few years back, he and Quinn were both with the FBI down in California. For my thirtieth birthday—” Roxie paused, her nose wrinkling. “Damn, that was almost four years ago. Anyway, they flew over and surprised me for my thirtieth. It was the sweetest thing...”
“I know,” Alex said with a sigh, caught up in Roxie’s nostalgia. “I’ve seen the picture.” At her friend’s confused look, she explained, “Quinn has a picture of the three of you from your birthday party in his bedroom.”
Roxie’s eyes danced with mischief. “I’m not even going to ask how you know about his bedroom.”
Heat rushed over her face. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t hold back the smile that erupted.
“I’m just messing with you, Alex, but from the look on your face, that’s a conversation we’lldefinitelyhave later.” She winked and reached for more pie plates. “Anyway, about a year or so later, Quinn’s folks were in that horrific car accident and passed away.”
Her jaw dropped. She knew Quinn’s parents had passed, but she hadn’t known any details. Seeing the grief and sadness coloring her friend’s face made her soul ache.
“Quinn resigned from the FBI and moved back here to Hudson Island for good,” Roxie continued with a sniff. “Before we knew it, he’d been elected sheriff. Joe started coming to visit more. They’d both always talked about moving home, but now that Quinn was here permanently, Joe had been giving it more thought.
“Then one night, we’re all hanging out at Monty’s Tavern—Quinn, some chick he was seeing, Joe, me, and my then boyfriend Paul—and Joe lost his freaking mind. Just out of the damn blue, he starts yelling at me. I mean, serious, full-on screaming. I’d never,everseen him treat anyone the way he was treating me. He was calling me a slut and a whore and then punched my boyfriend in the face.”
Alex’s eyes widened in surprise. Joe? For the life of her, she couldn’t picture it.
Roxie pointed at her. “Your face right now?Exactlyhow I felt. I was shocked. I had no idea what was going on in Joe’s head or why he was acting like a freaking crazy person. It was madness. Quinn’s pulling Joe off Paul. I’m throwing stuff at Joe and screaming. Absolute chaos. The next day I go over to Joe’s to talk—well, yell—and the guy isstilla complete jackass. He won’t apologize for acting like an asshole and then proceedsagainto call me a stupid slut! Can you believe that?”
No. She sure as hell couldn’t.
“Then he left. Just like that.” Roxie snapped her fingers. “Tossed everything in his bag and left. He hasn’t been back to Hudson since. When he showed up a couple weeks ago, that was the first time he’d stepped foot on the island since our big blowup. And to this day, the shithead has yet to apologize. Or explain.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. “He was one of my best friends. You could safely say Quinn was my left arm and Joe was my right. Now he absolutely hates me. And I have no idea why.”
Alex was at a complete loss for words. Roxie always radiated confidence. Always. Hell, she was downright cocky. But now, standing at her workstation with her shoulders slumped, she looked... lost. There was a vulnerability in her eyes that Alex hadn’t seen before. Yeah, it made Roxie a little more human and a whole lot less intimidating, but still. This wasRoxie.
“I’m so sorry I brought this up,” she said as Nina and Ella walked through Comfort Food’s back door. They were chatting a mile a minute.
“Don’t worry about it,” Roxie said with a soft smile. With a quick exhale, the woman put her no-nonsense boss-face firmly back in place. “Thanks for letting me know he’s going to be there tonight. One should always know where the enemy is at all times, right?” The teasing smile she flashed didn’t reach her eyes.
As Roxie made her way toward Nina and Ella, no doubt to give them the list of what still needed to be done, Alex’s heart hurt for her friend. Behind that über-confident facade, there was a world of pain. And she had a feeling that she’d just unknowingly ripped off the bandage that had been hiding it.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
The busy day continued, and dish after dish was put into and pulled out of the ovens. As usual, Comfort Food was filled with decadent aromas, and the workstations were littered with delicious treats.
At two on the dot, the last of the mini chocolate tarts were removed from the oven and placed on the cooling racks. At precisely three, most of the items were packed, and Roxie was steering Alex out the door while calling out final instructions to Nina and Ella.
After a quick stop at the post office, Roxie proceeded to give her a dizzying play-by-play of which items would be at food stations and which would be passed around by the hired waitstaff.
“I’ve done a detailed diagram on how the girls are setting things. You and I will be there tonight, along with Nina, should anything come up. Not that anythingwill, but you never know, right?” Roxie glanced down at her watch as she pulled into the driveway she shared with Quinn. “It’s a good thing we’re a bit ahead of schedule. Be at my place by four, and we’ll get all dolled up.”
Alex only stared. And shook her head.
“What?”
She couldn’t tell if Roxie was currently fueled by crazy amounts of nervous energy or if this was simply how she worked. Either way, witnessing her in overdrive was... something else.
“In the five minutes it took us to get from the post office to here, I don’t think you actually took a breath,” she said, marveling. “It was just one. Continuous. Sentence. It was really quite impressive.”
Her friend’s eyes rolled as she got out of her car. “Alex, my dear, you have been spendingwaytoo much time with Quinn. You’re beginning to sound like him. Not a good quality. Not at all.” She turned away with a wink and started toward the guesthouse. Without looking back, she called, “Don’t forget, Alex. My place. No later than four.”
At precisely four o’clock—because she didn’t have a death wish—Alex walked through Roxie’s front door freshly showered and dressed in her standard uniform of jeans, a T-shirt, and a zippered sweatshirt.
“Bedroom’s in the back,” Roxie shouted, her words muffled.
As she followed her friend’s voice, she scanned the living room. It was tastefully decorated in dark purples, emerald greens, rich navy blues, and plush burgundies. Furniture and decorative pieces were scattered about in a cluttered yet comforting manner. Through an archway, she saw a small, pristine kitchen that looked as though it had never been used.
When Alex stepped into the bedroom, she smiled. Gone were the lush jewel tones of the living area; soft, peaceful blues and whites reigned here. “Did you do the decorating in this place, or was it already like this?”
