“Oh.” Olivia’s eyes rounded along with her mouth. “Oh…my…”
Quinn pushed to her feet and waved Olivia to a corner while telling the workers, “You all have jobs. Do them.”
The staff drifted to different areas of the kitchen. While their mother stayed with the pregnant chef, Quinn paced in a small strip, one hand on her hip and one rubbing her forehead.
“This is a really important job,” she said in a hushed tone. “It’s an engagement party for the Rough Rider’s captain and his fiancé. All the players and their wives and family will be here. The team owner, the coaches, the trainers…” She ran out of air, paused to take a shaky breath and tears glistened in her eyes. “This is huge. If we blow this—”
“Okay, slow down.” Olivia tried to get a big picture view of the situation. “First of all, the place looks absolutely amazing, Quinn. It’s a fucking fairytale out there.”
That made her sister laugh a little.
“The bar is flowing, so everyone is going to be half drunk in about thirty minutes, which means anything that does go wrong will only seem half as wrong as if they were sober.”
Quinn grinned, but gave her a get-serious, “Liv.”
“Our prego is the caterer right? Didn’t she have everything prepared?” Olivia looked around the space, her gaze halting on the giant refrigerators. “There. Isn’t everything nearly ready to serve?”
Quinn was so caught up in her panic, she didn’t seem to hear the question. “The company hasn’t been doing well. We really need this event to—”
“What?” Olivia’s attention focused. “Mom said—”
A bubble of nearly-hysterical laughter popped out of Quinn. Olivia’s words died on her lips and anger sliced a path through her body. Anger a decade old that still flared hot in seconds.
Olivia took a step back and crossed her arms.
Quinn panicked and grabbed Olivia’s forearm. “No, no, no, no, no. It’s not like that, Liv. That’s not—”
Quinn exhaled and collected herself, but the cut inside Olivia already throbbed painfully. And the way it could break open like this made her wonder if it would ever heal.
“You know mom,” Quinn said, flustered. “She’s a lot like you. You both want to do everything yourselves. She’s not going to trouble you with her problems, especially not when she doesn’t get to talk to you very often.”
Olivia dropped her arms and glared at her twin. “You’re really making me want to pitch in here, Quinn.”
Quinn pushed her hands into her hair and squeezed her eyes closed. “God, Liv, just stop. You’re so damned sensitive I can’t say anything right.”
“C’est le foutu bordel.” Regret, hurt, anger swirled in her gut. She pressed her fingers to closed lids and rubbed tired eyes. She wanted to go find the sexy Tate, bury this fresh hurt, and get on the next plane back to Paris.
“I hate it when you do that,” Quinn bit out. “It’s so rude.”
She dropped her hand and looked at her sister. It was 2 a.m. for Olivia. She’d worked a full shift at the restaurant before catching her seven-hour flight to DC. And in the face of this old, tired conflict with her family, exhaustion kicked in. This wasn’t how she wanted to spend their short time together. “I said this is a fucking mess. Just tell me what you need.”
Her sister huffed, pressed her hands to the sides of her face and looked at the floor. Her hands were shaking and tears glistened in her eyes. And, dammit, just like that, love grudgingly pushed Olivia’s anger aside.
She stepped in and wrapped Quinn—older by two minutes—in a bear hug, the kind her sister couldn’t easily escape. Olivia instantly felt the bond they’d formed in the womb. They may have fought over the years, they may not be able to live together, but they would always be part of each other. “Shh, stop, Quinny. It’s going to be okay.”
Quinn pried her arms from between their bodies, wound them around Olivia’s neck and started crying.
Merde. Olivia’s own eyes burned with tears. She squeezed them tight and held Quinn close. Merde, merde, merde. She hated this. Hated this irreparable tear in her family.
“Shh, shh,” she tried to calm her sister even while her own emotions were spiraling out of control. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I’m tired.”
Quinn exhaled hard, sniffled, nodded against Olivia’s shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry too. It’s been a rough year.”
Olivia rolled her eyes to the ceiling, stuffed the anger and said, “Talk to me. What do you need right here, right now?”
Quinn pulled away and Olivia let her. Olivia felt the staff’s eyes on them, felt the nervous tension in the room, but she ignored it. That she was used to; that she could handle. Her relationship with her sister and her mother had never been anywhere near as easy.
“This crowd is a huge foodie pack,” Quinn said, wiping at her cheeks.