Bad Boyfriend by K. A. Mitchell

Author:K. A. Mitchell [Mitchell, K. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Goodreads: 12359552
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2011-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chrissy was on a mission to make up for Peter’s behavior. Operating under the illusion that any cuddling would compensate for the loss of Hubert, she barely waited until Quinn was seated on the couch before dumping a squirming Gabe onto his lap. The baby scowled for a few minutes and then settled. Quinn figured he’d probably just shit. He lifted the bundle to his shoulder and tried a hesitant pat. No way was he pining for fatherhood. After a brief wet hiss, the baby fell silent.

“You’re magic,” Chrissy said. “I’ve been trying to settle him down for an hour.”

Quinn knew a setup when he saw one. “Do you want me to put him down?”

“Would you? Peter, show him. Thank you. I thought I’d be walking him all night.”

Ah. A double setup. Aside from random squawks and gurgles, Gabe had been fairly unnoticeable during dinner. He’d only howled when the birthday serenade had been in full voice, and Quinn could scarcely blame him. His male cousin was particularly shrill. On the way to the stairs, Quinn and Peter stepped over a recreation of the Battle of Anzio formed out of random fast-food toys from Paula’s purse.

Peter flipped on the lights in the room at the top of the stairs to reveal a nursery in soft shades of yellow. Peter hated yellow. Quinn had wanted a warm soft gold in the bathroom, but Peter had sworn it would make him puke to match the bile color. Now that Quinn thought of it, the house was full of the shade—in the dining room, the kitchen, the gold-colored carpet on the stairs. Maybe that’s why Peter’s face in the wedding pictures looked so sour, he was glaring at the carpet.

“Put him on his back,” Peter instructed.

Quinn lowered the sleeping infant into the crib.

“I never thought you’d want to be there. Thought I could at least spare you that. I’m sorry, Quinn.” Peter’s words were soft, so sincere, Quinn could almost believe him if he didn’t know Peter’s wife had put him up to it.

“You could have asked.”

“Okay. It’s not like it’ll come up again, so I can’t very well fix it.” Before Quinn could back away from the crib, Peter put a hand over his on the rail. “I miss you sometimes. I didn’t plan for it to go like this.”

Damn him. Quinn slipped his hand free.

Peter’s fingers tightened on the crib rail. “Don’t think it’s always easy for me. You’re the only guy I ever—”

Quinn looked away.

“You know,” Peter said, voice thick, “forget it. Hate me. I can’t fix it.”

Quinn wasn’t falling for this. He’d seen too much of Peter’s selfishness to believe he ever thought of anyone but himself. Then Peter had to do that blink thing, like his eyes were filling as he stared down into the crib, reaching out to pat his son’s stomach, drawing a sticky sigh from the baby’s lips. “Did you ever think about this? About us doing this?”

It wasn’t only sex and familiarity that had kept their lives intertwined all those years.

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