Page 126 of One Time in Paris
“But I’m the one who insulted you.”
Quinn sighed. “Look, I’ll admit, I was angry in Nashville. But you weren’t entirely wrong. I almost lost the woman I love by being a fool when I was younger. I don’t love to be reminded of the fact, of course, especially by my obnoxious younger brother, but it’s true.”
“That’s a hell of a way to give an apology,” Aiden said in a wry tone.
Quinn smirked. “I’m trying, you know.” He approached the other side of the counter. “You shocked me. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised that one of us might fall for Isla—I’ve always seen her like a sister—but I was still shocked. And I suppose a protective side of me reared its ugly head. It was wrong of me to kick you out of my house, and Elle’s been upset with me ever since. I just didn’t want to see Isla get hurt or for things to get messy. But it wasn’t my place to interfere or judge you so fiercely. Retrospectively, I can see how I made everything worse.”
Aiden blinked at him.
Am I dreaming?
When Aiden didn’t answer, Quinn’s eyes flickered with regret—and resignation. He exhaled sharply and turned toward Mason. “Your turn,” he said, walking over toward the couch and sinking beside him.
“Right. What he said,” Mason said with a frown.
Quinn elbowed him in the side. “Well, you’ve got to do better than that.”
Mason rolled his eyes. “I shouldn’t have interfered,” he said in a flat voice, with considerably less enthusiasm. Then he lifted his chin. “But I maintain I was barely involved.”
“You were a bloody snitch,” Quinn snapped. “Made everything so much worse.”
“That’s for goddamn sure.” Aiden chuckled.
Mason sat back on the couch and crossed his arms. “How was I to know that they loved each other? It’s Aiden. Stirring up scandal is practically a hobby.”
“Tosser. That’s the worst apology I’ve ever heard.” Quinn scowled.
Aiden almost smiled. Shaking his head, he relaxed his shoulders, feeling slightly less wary. “And that’s what you’ve come all this way for? To apologize?”
The idea was ludicrous.
To begin with, Aiden was the one usually having to issue apologies—it’d been that way for all his life. Broken window? He got the blame. A fight between them? He’d be punished.
Not that he hadn’t usually deserved it.
Not always, though.
That was the trouble with being the second born, though.
“Mason and I have, anyway. Callum has his own reasons and, sorry, but he hasn’t quite told us what they are. We left London last night and stayed in Inverness so we could be here first thing. You didn’t, by any chance, happen to watch the premiere of Isla’s show a couple of nights ago, though, did you?”
Aiden shook his head. Even the sound of her name cut through him like glass. He’d tried to reach out, but she’d asked for silence. Time to think. And he’d given it to her. Every aching second.
That had been the hardest thing of all. He’d wanted nothing more than to send her a message. Had typed them out and let his thumb hover over thesendbutton. Only to force himself to delete the message and turn his phone off.
He wanted to respect her wishes, but it was killing him.
And it had been a week. He didn’t think he could handle watching her on that show. Not right now. And depending on how things went between them, maybe not ever.
“My service is a bit spotty here,” he answered truthfully. “But also, no.”
“You should watch it,” Quinn said quietly. “It might ...help. Maybe. It helped us anyway to see your side better.”
What in the hell does that mean?
Aiden lifted his brows. “My side?”
Mason gave him an impatient look. “Just watch the damn thing.”
