Chapter 10
QUENTIN
Standing in front of the full-length mirror at Giovanni’s Exclusive Men”s Wear, I watch the tailor, a guy whose eye for detail is sharper than his shears, tweak the hem of my tux. The fabric is a black so deep it seems to swallow light. Not a bad look for Ryder and Jenny”s engagement bash tonight.
Pretty slick for a dude whose usual attire is a ”Friday the 13th” t-shirt and sweats.
But then, I”m supposed to be more than ”just a guy.” I’m an Anderson. In Seattle, that name opens doors, gets me whatever I want without much fuss. Tonight, it means I’ll see her again.
Carmina.
I smooth back my hair, taming any rebels. It’s been five days since the reading. Between the whirlwind at work and Danity’s latest drop, we”ve hardly spoken.
But tonight, that changes.
I’m set on picking up where we left off at Sopra, before she called it a night.
The tailor steps back, his work done, just as my cousin Killian lounges against the wall, amusement in his amber-brown eyes. ”Not bad, Q. Might start calling you ”GQ”.”
I roll my eyes and adjust a cufflink. ”You get paid for those jokes?”
Killian just laughs and passes me my jacket. ”Never seen you so upbeat about going stag.”
I don the jacket, its fabric settling perfectly. ”Is that so weird?”
”For you?” He saunters over, eyeing me. ”Hell yeah. What happened to Twisty Tina—uh, the aerialist?”
Adjusting my tie in the mirror, I reply. ”Tiana. And we”re not a thing anymore. Decided to fly solo. Got to make sure this party”s flawless. And for your information, I can survive without a fling for a week.”
He chuckles. ”Just doesn’t seem like you.”
”Maybe I”m just focusing on work.”
Yet, as I say it, Carmina’s image floods my thoughts—the way she looked in the rain, or during that reading, or how our kiss felt before she pulled away.
I shake my head clear as Killian claps a hand on my shoulder. ”Taking our intervention to heart, huh?”
”Don”t kid yourself. Just too busy for distractions.”
He smirks. ”Since when does work stop you? Besides,” his smirk fades, ”we’re the last Anderson bachelors. Even Carmina’s got a date tonight, and you don’t.”
I freeze. ”Carmina has a date?”
”Yeah, some hotshot doctor. Went through the whole grapevine to get to me.”
”Great, our family”s a walking game of telephone.” I swallow hard, my pulse racing. ”Good for her.”
Killian squints at me, then whistles. ”You”ve got it bad, huh?” I straighten my tie, stepping away. He holds up his hands. ”Hey, being jealous just means you care.”
”I’m not jealous,” I snap, my hands clenching. ”I’m focused on work. On being the best Best Man for Ry. And getting through this wedding without any disasters.”
Killian chuckles and claps me on the back. ”Right, right. Because avoiding disasters has always been your top priority,” he smirks, catching the glare I shoot his way before he saunters off, leaving me to finish getting ready.
Standing in front of the mirror, adjusting my cufflinks, Killian”s words echo in my head.
The idea of Carmina walking into tonight”s party—a party we both poured our hearts into—with a date on her arm tightens a fist around my stomach. I can”t recall ever feeling this...irritable. So off my game.
Looking at my reflection, I admit maybe Killian has a point.
Having a date myself might just tip the scales. Show Carmina I”m too indifferent to be bothered by her moves.
It”s short notice, but I”m confident I can find someone.
Despite Killian being a thorn in my side, he occasionally makes a good point.
Sighing, I grab my phone and start scrolling through my contacts for a potential date.
* * *
CARMINA
Stepping into Ryder and Jenny”s engagement bash, a buzz of excitement hits me. For once, I”m in a dress that screams elegance rather than ”I”ve been laboring over pasta.”
And it feels damn good.
As Alex and I walk into the Seattle Starlight atrium, the transformation amazes me.
The sky-lit atrium, with its thirty-foot ceilings, outdoor courtyard, and rooftop views of North Seattle, now resembles a magical garden. Twinkling lights and pastel flowers everywhere—it’s straight out of a fairytale.
Our consultants, Puddle and Glitter, are nothing short of magicians.
And I”m not the only one enchanted.
”Wow,” Alex murmurs, his hand resting on the small of my back as we wait to be checked in.
I can feel his gaze on my upswept hair and the curve of my red dress. For the first time in ages, I let my shoulders drop, soaking in the moment.
It”s not even Alex I”m leaning into. It”s the atmosphere, the evening, the escapism.
I catch a glimpse of my date—Alex, looking at me with eyes full of apology, the same eyes that have been sorry since he came back, blaming his cold feet on stress at work and family issues.
It”s an excuse I”m willing to accept tonight, especially after my mom”s call a few days ago. After refusing treatment for her depression again, she ended the call with a bitter ”I hope you”re happy, ingrata.”
Ungrateful—a label that”s haunted me since my dad left at thirteen, and after every failed relationship my mom has had since.
But tonight, I refuse to dwell on that. Tonight is about forgetting.
”Are you okay?” Alex whispers, his concern breaking through my thoughts.
I nod. ”Yeah, just lost in thought.”
He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I respond with a small smile. Alex, with his dark hair and height, is the epitome of the perfect date.
Calm. Polite. Well-educated. No drama.
Unlike him.
And as if my thoughts have summoned him, I spot Quentin at the atrium entrance, scanning the room. And he”s not alone.
Standing next to Delilah—the woman who fixes our company”s copy machines—I”ve never really spoken to her, but I think that”s her name—Quentin looks even more handsome than usual.
His dark-blond hair is its typical kind of messy, and his deep green eyes are lit up with laughter as he chats with Delilah, standing tall beside him.
But what really gets me is how casually his arm is thrown over her shoulders, sending a pang right through my heart.
As if he can tell I”m watching him, Quentin turns his head, and our eyes meet. Just like that, my heart starts to race.
I quickly look away, feeling heat fan over my neck.
”Something wrong?” Alex asks, noticing where my attention had gone.
”No, it”s nothing.” I force a smile. ”Actually, I”m kind of thirsty. How about we grab some drinks?”
”Sure,” he says with a smile, reaching for my hand again. ”Lead the way, mi amor.”
I try to laugh off his cheesy line, but I take his hand anyway.
We head to the bar, a trail of warmth following us through the crowd. I can feel Quentin”s gaze on me, but I”m determined to stay focused on Alex.
Gripping Alex”s hand tighter, I square my shoulders and refuse to look back.