At Your Most Beautiful, Harper Bliss [books to get back into reading .TXT] 📗

the age card and tell Quinn that experience had taught her doing something out of anger was seldom a good idea, but, in hindsight, she should have done just that. Because now all four of them, Quinn and Maya but also Bill and Brooke, didn’t know what to do with themselves.

Quinn sat at the kitchen island typing furiously on her phone. Maya had no idea what she did on that too-small device all day long, but Tommy and Beth were exactly the same. Maybe that was why neither one of them had even mentioned Quinn this weekend when Maya had gone over to babysit Ethan—they’d been too busy living their lives, their real ones, and also the ones that existed on their phones. No wonder they were so exhausted all the time.

Maya walked over to Quinn and put a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you take a break from that thing?” she asked.

Quinn put her phone away as though all she’d needed was someone to tell her to do so.

“There’s a surprising amount of press,” Quinn said. “Imogen from the gallery is getting all excited about the pre-opening buzz.”

“It’s not every day you have Quinn Hathaway’s art on display in your gallery.” Maya squeezed Quinn’s shoulder.

Quinn let her head fall back against Maya’s belly. She heaved a deep sigh. “What if they don’t come?” Her tone was defeated, as though her only choice was to accept that the worst might very well happen—that her own parents wouldn’t show up for her moment of glory because they didn’t agree with who their daughter loved.

“There’s just no way.” Maya spoke from her own experience as a parent again. Regardless of not having a rebellious bone in his body, Tommy had managed to get under Maya’s skin quite a few times in his life, but it would never have stopped Maya from wanting to be with him when something significant happened. She couldn’t think of anything he might do that could keep her away.

She understood Bill and Brooke’s reaction better than she admitted out loud to Quinn, but she also knew that they loved their daughter no matter what and that they were the kind of people who would want to share this special moment with her. Bill would be there beaming with pride and Brooke would probably be going around the room telling everyone who wanted to hear—and everyone who didn’t—that she was the artist’s mother.

But Maya could presume all she wanted; people could still surprise you. She was especially surprised by Bill’s refusal to call his daughter. Because he usually called her every day, it meant something when he didn’t. And it hurt Quinn so very much. Maya hated being the source of so much suffering.

“I could try to talk to them,” Maya offered. It would be awkward and horrible, but she would do it for Quinn. She would brave Bill and Brooke Hathaway’s chagrin. Because at least this crappy ordeal had made something very clear to her: she wanted to be with Quinn and she was willing to fight for that. At least against the Hathaways. She would deal with her own family when the time came—one battle at a time.

“And say what?” Quinn asked.

“Just listen to what they have to say, for starters.” Maya imagined Quinn had been too angry to really listen to her father’s arguments.

“I don’t want them getting into your head.” Quinn slipped off the chair and faced Maya.

“That’s the last thing you need to worry about right now.” Maya cupped Quinn’s cheeks in her hands. “They can’t get into my head. It’s not possible. It’s too full of you.” Maya smiled. “You have my word.”

“People’s word isn’t worth that much to me right now.”

“I hope mine is.”

Quinn nodded. “Your word is sacred to me.” She managed a wry smile. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Then let me help you. I hate seeing you like this. You should only be nervous about your show right now, not about your family.”

“I can’t believe he hasn’t called.” Quinn’s voice broke. “He must be so fucking pissed at me. Or maybe Mom’s mad at him, although that has never stopped him before.”

“Not hearing from them is driving you crazy.” Maya’s determination grew. In a way, she had caused this. Maybe she was the only one who could make it better. “What’s the worst that can happen if I call your mother?” Maya shrugged, trying to look more casual than she felt. “She could hang up on me, but we already have her silence.”

As the phone rang, Maya wondered which emotions were going through her old friend Brooke as she saw who was calling. Rage? Defiance? Unadulterated motherly wrath? Maybe Brooke was considering if she should pick up at all. Maya ignored her own emotions. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to have this conversation.

When Brooke picked up there was a brief silence on the other end of the line before she said, “Maya?”

“Hi, Brooke. How are you?” It was an automatic question. It was what you asked the person you’d called. Maya hadn’t prepared a bunch of arguments to support why it was okay for her to be with Brooke’s daughter. She just wanted to break this wretched stand-off the Hathaways were in. She wanted joyful Quinn back, who showed her the tattoo on her side whenever she felt like it—which was often, Maya had learned, and not always in an appropriate environment.

Brook didn’t immediately reply. It was both easier and harder to do this over the phone. Maya would have liked to be able to see Brooke’s face but she was also glad she didn’t have to deal with the possible disapproval plastered all over it. At least she had picked up and hadn’t hung up instantly. Brooke probably wanted to find a way out of this as well, but pretending it wasn’t happening wasn’t going to solve anything.

Brooke’s silence continued.

“Look.” Maya decided to fill the gap. “I know you’re upset, and I