She hesitated before nodding. “Uh-huh.” Reluctantly, she stepped aside, and I walked inside, my hands firmly fisted into the pockets of my jacket.

Quinn tied the laces on his sneakers and straightened, spotting me. His body turned rigid, protective, as if I were a rabid dog Mia needed shielding from. I had done this. I deserved every ill feeling that passed through me at that moment. “Har,” he greeted guardedly.

I jerked my chin at him in acknowledgement then turned back to Mia, who stood stiff by the kitchen counter. “I need to talk to you.”

Her eyes darted from me to Quinn then back again. “Um, okay.” She turned back to Quinn, her expression unreadable.

Then Quinn stepped over to us. “I was just leaving. Got to pump my guns, if ya know what I mean.” He made his way toward Mia, reached down to cup her cheeks, and then brought his face down to place a long, soft kiss to her lips. Her eyes closed as Quinn brought his lips to her ear and whispered something. She reached up, placing her hands over his at her cheeks and nodded.

It was clear as day. They loved each other. There was no mistaking it. My mouth opened and I rushed out, “Can you stay a sec? What I need to say, both of you need to hear.”

Quinn’s brow narrowed at me, posture defensive. His arm came around Mia and he pulled her into his side. “All right. Go ahead.”

The spotlight was on me. And suddenly, words vanished. I stood there, blinking over at them, biting the inside of my cheek, my fingers twitching. Frustration caused my eyes to shut tightly and I sighed. Then, I paced. “You know, sometimes you do or say things that you wish you n…”

Oh, how cliché. Come on, Har. You can do better than this.

I stopped mid-step and tried again. “Mia’s my sister, Quinn. And you…”

…stepped in where you weren’t needed?

Are you fucking serious, man? Just say what you need to say.

I breathed deeply and spoke the words calmly, even though my heart was racing. I spoke to Quinn first. “I said some things to you that I didn’t mean. I mean, you deserved them, but they weren’t true.” His brows raised, but a faint look of amusement passed his face.

I spoke to Mia next, stepping forward, wanting her to look me in the eye. “You told me you loved Quinn before I even knew it was him. I told you I hoped it would work out between you guys, because…” I paused, lowering my voice to a hush, “…because I could see, even then, that you were in love with this nameless, faceless guy. You deserve to be happy, Mia. I’ve never wanted anything more than for you to be happy.” My throat thickened with emotion. “And I took happiness away from you by the way I reacted to your relationship with Quinn. I made you miserable.”

She swallowed as she blinked back tears.

My heart broke.

I reached out and took her small hand from her side, holding it between both of mine. “I am so sorry, Minnie.” I closed my eyes and forced out the words. “I love you and hope that you can forgive a stubborn asshole for not supporting you when you needed it most.”

A sniffle sounded, then she flung herself at me, her arms cinching around my waist like a vise. Her tears stained the front of my shirt, but I didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around her and held her as though it would be the very last time.

She cried, and cried, until finally, she pulled back and punched me right in the gut. My breath left me in a whoosh, and she yelled a broken, “You are an asshole!” Then she pulled me back in for another hug, part wailing, part laughing.

Quinn looked down at Mia and muttered out the side of his mouth, “So that’s why they call it ugly-crying.”

Mia laughed in outrage, swiping away tears, elbowing Quinn in the ribs. “You’re an asshole, too.”

I smiled at them, relief releasing all the pent-up tension in my shoulders. I kept my eyes on Quinn. “We good?”

“Depends,” he stated slyly.

My eyes narrowed. “On what?”

“On if you’re going to be the best man at our wedding,” he challenged.

I sniffed a laugh, half relieved. “Yeah, man. I think I can do that.”

He held out his hand and I took it immediately, pulling him in for a man-hug. We slapped each other on the back, and I uttered, “Congratulations, guys. I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Thanks, man,” Quinn responded, while Mia simply smiled.

I pulled back and faced Quinn. “You forgive me enough to help me with something?”

His brow rose. “Asking favors already? Shit. I knew something was up.” He sighed melodramatically. “What do you need?”

“Help me get back into shape.”

Mia looked over me and stated, “You’re in great shape, Har.”

I leaned my hip on the counter and explained, “Well, there’s this job I’m applying for that requires you to be in peak physical condition.”

Quinn shot me a look of confusion. “What job?”

I fought my grin. “I want to be a cop.”

Mia gasped loudly, looking from Quinn to me and clapping. “Oh, yay!”

“No shit,” Quinn beamed. “You and me, cops?” He shook his head, smiling hard. “Shit, we’re gonna be just like Turner and Hooch.”

“Hooch was a dog, dipshit.” I chuckled as I rolled my eyes.

Quinn nodded. “I know.” He smirked.

“You’re Hooch.”

Chapter Forty-Seven – Epilogue

Mia

A smiling Quinn took my hand and gently pulled me to him. He cradled me, rocking me from side-to-side. I had never felt this brand of happiness before in my life. I was immersed in it, drowning happily, never wanting to come up for air. We slow danced as Ed Sheeran sang thinking out loud.

It was our wedding day, and what was better was that it was Quinn’s birthday. I jokingly named the date and told him if we did it, he’d never forget an anniversary. He laughed as I said this, and then became mildly panicked, begging me to set the date.

We had a small church ceremony, and Father Brady, the same priest who had baptized both my brother and me, named us husband and wife. The only people we invited to join us were Mom, Harry, Terry and Bob, Ella and Mike, and Addison and Nick. We also extended an invitation to Quinn’s mother once I managed to track her down, but she kindly declined, claiming she had no right to attend.

I’d met with the woman who gave birth to my husband and had to admit—I was shocked. For someone as put together as Quinn, I didn’t picture a mature woman living in a trailer, smoking at least two packs a day and drinking whiskey at nine am, as his mother was.

Mama Quinn was a decent lady, but she was rough around the edges.

I’d asked Quinn if he’d like to see her, and he told me quite honestly that he wasn’t ready for that, but would never say never. I sent care packages to her every month, and she repaid me in affection. I quite liked our relationship.

My eyes roamed my husband and I took in his new tux. I smiled at the memory of our argument just the week before.

I pulled a garment bag out of Quinn’s closet. “What’s wrong with this tux? It’s a Ralph Lauren.”

Quinn scowled then mumbled, “It’s my hooker tux. I’m not wearing that tux.”

I rolled my eyes. “So? It probably cost a thousand dollars and looks amazing. Wear this.”

He threw himself back on the bed with a groan. “Mia, I’m not wearing the hooker tux on our wedding day.” I stared at him. After a moment, he raised his head and mock-whispered, “And, by the way, the suit was four grand.” He eyed me good. “What kind of nasty street-walker do you take me for?”

I huffed and looked down at the black suit peeking through the open zipper of the garment bag. “It looks good to me, honey.”

Our disagreement went on for another half-hour until Quinn got up, snatched the garment bag out of my hands, opened the window to his apartment, and threw it out, slamming the window closed again, all the while eyeing me in a way that said, ‘Say something…I dare you.’