hand.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Beck,” she said.
Quinn took her hand and gently shook it. “Bonjour, Madame
Leclair...” he said, then repeated what Margot had taught him, the ‘I’m sorry
for your loss’ in French.
Margot’s mother smiled sadly and nodded. “Merci,” she said
gratefully.
Margot had Remi show Quinn the bedroom that they would be
staying in, while she stayed behind with her mother and sister. When Quinn
walked into the small room, he couldn’t help but smile. It was Margot’s old
bedroom and it was sooo Margot. The walls were a bright florescent pink, with
lime green accents all over the room. Obviously, her mother never touched
anything. There were pictures still tacked to the walls of a young smiling
Margot with friends. A couple of posters were still on the walls of young men
that Quinn couldn’t name. They were probably actors or musicians who were
famous in France. Then Quinn saw the bed and almost groaned aloud. It was only
a double - Margot would have to sleep on top of him, or he was going to have to
sleep on the floor. He wasn’t sure if he could handle Margot sleeping on top of
him, yet. Quinn glanced at Remi who was standing by the door with his arms
crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face.
“Would you like me to get some extra blankets for the
floor?” Remi asked knowingly.
Damn Margot. She must have told her brother about his issues with touching. “Yeah, sure.”
Quinn sighed in resignation and dropped the bags in front of the closet door.
Remi chuckled and left the room. Quinn took the opportunity
to look at some of the pictures scattered around the room. On one section of
the wall, there was a bunch of pictures from what looked like high school.
Margot looked cute and a bit nerdy, but had a huge smile on her lovely face in
each one. On her nightstand was a picture of her with her arms around the neck
of an older man. The love and adoration in Margot’s eyes for the man she was
with was apparent.
Remi returned with a stack of blankets and an extra pillow.
He set them on the bed and turned to Quinn. He held up the picture. “Is this
your father?” he asked Remi.
Remi nodded. “Oui,” he said.
“Margot said he was a great guy,” Quinn murmured quietly and
looked back down at the picture.
“Oui, he was. I think he would have liked you,” Remi said
with a small smile.
Quinn glanced at him and frowned. “How can you say that when
you barely know me?”
“One trait that I share with my father is that he knew a
good man when he saw one. I can see that you are a good man, Quinn, and my
father would have seen that, too,” Remi said sincerely then turned and left the
room.
Quinn stared at the now empty doorway. Wow. He didn’t expect
that. Quinn returned the picture frame to the nightstand and headed downstairs.
He found everyone in the kitchen, sitting at the table. Feeling like an
intruder, Quinn shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped into the kitchen.
Margot waved him over, pulling out the chair next to her for him to sit in. She
gave him a small tired smile that had a tinge of pain in it. That’s when Quinn
remembered that she hasn’t had her foot propped up at all today. It would start
to swell and become more painful as the day went on if she didn’t prop it up at
all. Quinn reached over and turned her and her chair so that she was facing
him. He reached down and grabbed her calf, brought her leg up, and propped her
wrapped ankle in his lap.
Margot gave him a grateful look, and his heart fluttered in
his chest. He couldn’t remember ever caring so much about a woman. He’s never
been the kind of guy to take care of a woman if she was sick or hurt, but
something about Margot brought that out in him. He wanted to make sure that she
was comfortable; he didn’t like when she was in pain, and it just tore at his
heart when she would cry. Any other woman could cry and he wouldn’t really
“Bonjour, Monsieur Beck,” she said.
Quinn took her hand and gently shook it. “Bonjour, Madame
Leclair...” he said, then repeated what Margot had taught him, the ‘I’m sorry
for your loss’ in French.
Margot’s mother smiled sadly and nodded. “Merci,” she said
gratefully.
Margot had Remi show Quinn the bedroom that they would be
staying in, while she stayed behind with her mother and sister. When Quinn
walked into the small room, he couldn’t help but smile. It was Margot’s old
bedroom and it was sooo Margot. The walls were a bright florescent pink, with
lime green accents all over the room. Obviously, her mother never touched
anything. There were pictures still tacked to the walls of a young smiling
Margot with friends. A couple of posters were still on the walls of young men
that Quinn couldn’t name. They were probably actors or musicians who were
famous in France. Then Quinn saw the bed and almost groaned aloud. It was only
a double - Margot would have to sleep on top of him, or he was going to have to
sleep on the floor. He wasn’t sure if he could handle Margot sleeping on top of
him, yet. Quinn glanced at Remi who was standing by the door with his arms
crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face.
“Would you like me to get some extra blankets for the
floor?” Remi asked knowingly.
Damn Margot. She must have told her brother about his issues with touching. “Yeah, sure.”
Quinn sighed in resignation and dropped the bags in front of the closet door.
Remi chuckled and left the room. Quinn took the opportunity
to look at some of the pictures scattered around the room. On one section of
the wall, there was a bunch of pictures from what looked like high school.
Margot looked cute and a bit nerdy, but had a huge smile on her lovely face in
each one. On her nightstand was a picture of her with her arms around the neck
of an older man. The love and adoration in Margot’s eyes for the man she was
with was apparent.
Remi returned with a stack of blankets and an extra pillow.
He set them on the bed and turned to Quinn. He held up the picture. “Is this
your father?” he asked Remi.
Remi nodded. “Oui,” he said.
“Margot said he was a great guy,” Quinn murmured quietly and
looked back down at the picture.
“Oui, he was. I think he would have liked you,” Remi said
with a small smile.
Quinn glanced at him and frowned. “How can you say that when
you barely know me?”
“One trait that I share with my father is that he knew a
good man when he saw one. I can see that you are a good man, Quinn, and my
father would have seen that, too,” Remi said sincerely then turned and left the
room.
Quinn stared at the now empty doorway. Wow. He didn’t expect
that. Quinn returned the picture frame to the nightstand and headed downstairs.
He found everyone in the kitchen, sitting at the table. Feeling like an
intruder, Quinn shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped into the kitchen.
Margot waved him over, pulling out the chair next to her for him to sit in. She
gave him a small tired smile that had a tinge of pain in it. That’s when Quinn
remembered that she hasn’t had her foot propped up at all today. It would start
to swell and become more painful as the day went on if she didn’t prop it up at
all. Quinn reached over and turned her and her chair so that she was facing
him. He reached down and grabbed her calf, brought her leg up, and propped her
wrapped ankle in his lap.
Margot gave him a grateful look, and his heart fluttered in
his chest. He couldn’t remember ever caring so much about a woman. He’s never
been the kind of guy to take care of a woman if she was sick or hurt, but
something about Margot brought that out in him. He wanted to make sure that she
was comfortable; he didn’t like when she was in pain, and it just tore at his
heart when she would cry. Any other woman could cry and he wouldn’t really
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