Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [147]
Her expression faltered. She looked down at the ground. “I know.”
“You are the best thing that ever happened to me, and if I don’t tell you that enough, then I am a total idiot.”
“You’re not a total idiot.”
“I don’t know about kids. I’ll be honest: the very thought scares me to death. I was not a great father, Rainie. I’m still not a great father. But I am willing to talk about it. If this is what you really, truly want, then I can at least explore the notion.”
“I want.”
“All right, then you have to be honest with me. Is it only kids you want? Because I tried . . . I thought . . . Rainie, each time I’ve asked you to marry me, why have you never said yes?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Because I thought you’d never stop asking. You’re not the idiot, Quincy. It’s me.”
He felt the world spin again. He had thought . . . Had been so sure . . . “Does that mean . . .”
“You think you’re scared of kids? Hell, Quince, I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of commitment and I’m scared of responsibility. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you and I’m afraid one day I’ll physically harm my child. We all get a little older, but we never completely outgrow our past. And mine is looming behind me now, this big giant shadow I want so desperately to leave behind.”
“Oh, Rainie . . .”
“I tell myself to be happy with what I’ve got. You, me, this is a good gig, better than anything I thought I’d have. And we do important work and meet important people, and hey, that’s not bad for a woman who used to be a human punching bag. But . . . but I get so restless now. Maybe happiness is like a drug. You get a little, then you want a lot. I don’t know, Quincy. I want so badly not to want so much, but I think I can’t help it anymore. I want more you. I want more me. I want . . . kids and white picket fences and maybe tea cozies, except I’m not sure I know what a tea cozy is. Maybe you’re frightened. But I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my mind.”
“Rainie, you are the strongest, bravest woman I know.”
“Oh, you’re just saying that so I don’t whoop your ass.”
She kicked at the ground in disgust, and Quincy finally smiled. It amazed him how much better he already felt. The world had righted. His hands had steadied. It was as if a crushing weight he didn’t even know he’d been carrying had suddenly been lifted off his chest.
This was not the time, he knew. This was not the place. But then he’d spent too much of his life waiting for perfect moments that had never come. And he knew better than most how fleeting opportunity could be. Life gave, but life also took away. He was older, wiser, and he didn’t want any more regrets.
He went down on his knee, a crush of dirt and pine needles staining his suit. He took hold of Rainie’s hands. She was crying openly now, tears streaming down her face, but she didn’t pull away.
“Grow old with me, Rainie,” he whispered. “We’ll adopt some children. We’ll cut back on cases, create a home, then do the fashionable thing and write our memoirs. I’ll be terrified. You can help show me the way.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be a good mother!”
“We’ll learn together.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be a good wife!”
“Rainie, I just need you to be you. And then I’m the happiest man in the world.”
“Oh for God’s sake, get up off the dirt.” But she was clasping his hands with both of hers now, and crying harder, and since he wouldn’t get up, she sank down to the ground with him. “We have to talk more.”
“I know.”
“I mean about something other than work!”
“I understand that, too.”
“And you have to tell me when you’re frightened, Quincy. I can’t stand it when you pull away.”
“I’ll try.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
She sniffed. “I mean, better than okay. I mean yes, I’ll marry you. What the hell. If we can catch a few killers, we oughtta be able to figure out this domestic thing.”
“You would think so,” Quincy agreed. He pulled her closer, wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He could feel her trembling now and understood for the first time that she was as nervous as he. It gave him strength. You didn’t have