Page 65 of Quinn, By Design

“Because you owed Grandpa?”

“I didn’t want my success to be at the price of your peace of mind.”

She’d needed him, whether she’d known it or not.

“You owed Grandpa, and you pitied me. That’s insulting.” She was visibly donning body armour, her shoulders straightening, her spine stiffening, because without meaning to, he’d painted her as a victim.

“I’ve just spent a year making bloody frames to pay my brother back. I didn’t want another debt I’d spend years regretting.” His justifications sounded pathetic spoken aloud. “But my feelings for you were—are—complicated.”

“You’re not making me feel any better.”

“Your dream is to keep McTavish’s running, and you worked out the best way to do that. My dream was my business. What right did I have to insist my dream was more important than yours? You needed some financial breathing space. I thought I could juggle all the balls at once. If I’d told you about the exhibition, you’d have felt guilty for asking me to work.”

“Or I might have seen the importance of the exhibition to Grandpa’s foundation,” she said solemnly. “You didn’t give me a chance.”

“What do you mean?” He was weary of fighting his critics, himself and now her.

“The chance to decide if my dream was more important than yours. If I could achieve mine differently. If your dream was a better way of honouring my grandparents.”

She’d been consumed by despair when she’d met him. Not the most rational starting point to make clear decisions. Niall knew because he’d been there.

“My brother put his dream on hold to pay back my father’s debts. I never knew the truth, until we talked last year.”

“And not talking to your brother gives you the right to make all the decisions in our relationship?” She shook her head at his highhandedness.

“I told you my da died suddenly. Shortly before he died, Da was swindled by an Irish woman. Da asked me to check out someone when I got to Ireland. I made a few calls, got a few ‘not available at the moment’ brush-offs, and didn’t push hard enough. After all, I was doing something important. I was a big man. I’d won a prized mentorship. People were keen to meet and be with me.” He’d swaggered all over the place, keen to buy strangers a beer, stuffed to the gills with ill-fitting pride.

“If I’d pushed harder, sooner, I might have found out she was a swindler.” He stared at Lucy, breathing hard, his heart and mind still ruptured. “My da might have kept his money and his life.”

“Does Liam know you blame yourself for your father’s death?” Her face had softened, and her pity was as unwelcome to him as his was to her.

“I’ve told him about what Da wanted me to do.”

“What did he say?”

“That he and a private detective spent months trying to track the woman and the funds down. They drew blanks again and again when they thought they had a lead.” Niall had interviewed the private detective and found no gaps in their research.

“But ifyou’dpersisted in those few days you had before his death, you’d have solved everything. That’s remarkably arrogant. It’s worse than arrogant not to tell me about the exhibition when it has material bearing on the success of the foundation. And it’s monumentally stupid to think Grandpa would class me as disposable property in his will.”

“You think I’m a patronising idiot. Face facts. You can rent or sell this property as you originally planned. You’ll have the funds to establish Cam’s foundation, and I can stop second-guessing myself about what the hell crazy plan he had in his head.” Niall cursed himself for his incoherence.

“You’ve got no idea what you’ve done,” she accused. “Whereas I have to live with the knowledge that every decision I’ve made from the day I met you has led to you having no workshop, no home, and no exhibition.” Each criticism landed like a whip tip on the tenderest of his extremities.

“I didn’t expect to fall for you.”Not the time for this confession, Quinn.

“You’re claiming you’ve fallen for me?” She scoffed, and he deserved her disbelief.

“Restoring furniture took time out of my schedule.” Niall took a half-step toward her, and she stepped back. “Wanting to be with you was the bigger issue. I didn’t want you to feel responsible for me not doing my own work.”

“Arrogant and blind. Not a pretty combination from where I’m standing.”

“Maybe not.” He’d spent hours trying to balance all the equations and failed. “But my self-respect is important to me. I’m not a good provider.” In defence, he voiced the bitterness building since he’d added up all the contributions she, not Cam, made to his budget. Poison she didn’t deserve spilled out of his mouth, because self-respect had to count for something. “Not the right kind of man for the heir to the McTavish estate, who, when the dust settles, is stupidly rich. I can’t be a pet poodle, bankrolled by your money.”

“Screw you, Niall.” She threw a hand in the air, like a toreador signalling the coup-de-grace was imminent. “Now you’re being offensive. You object to me cooking you a few meals, paying for a few groceries. Your family has shown me hospitality.

“You keep adding to my debts.” Like a punch-drunk fighter, he listened to himself blame her.

Her head jerked back, as if hit by an uppercut to the jaw. “You don’t owe me anything.” Her voice cracked. “If anything, I owe you. That’s what I wanted to tell you last night. I finally figured it out.”

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