Chapter 19
CARMINA
If satisfaction had a name, it would be Quentin Anderson, written in bold, underlined, and maybe even glittered.
Lying there, bathed in a post-orgasm glow that could light up a downtown Seattle block, I already know I want more. And not just the physical—though Quentin definitely sparked desires I didn’t even know existed.
But something deeper. More lasting.
I don’t really know what ”lasting” means in my chaotic life. But I do know I’ve been guarding my heart like Fort Knox forever.
Would it be so bad, giving Quentin a key?
Every kiss felt like a promise of something good, something worth coming back to life for. Promises sweetened with powdered sugar and maple syrup when he finishes those pancakes.
My stomach rumbles at the thought of fluffy, warm stacks dripping with butter and sweetness. But it also aches with a different kind of hunger.
Just as the image of Quentin”s broad, muscular back comes to mind, a noise—other than my stomach growling—disturbs the peace. The sound of a phone ringing. I groan, not wanting to break my satisfied glow.
But when the phone rings again, curiosity wins.
It’s definitely not my cell, and I doubt anyone other than Freddie or Jenny would call this early on a Saturday.
Pinpointing the noise to the hallway bathroom, I wrap a sheet around me and head out. My bare feet slap softly against the hardwood floors, my half-Greek goddess, half-rumpled mess look probably on full display.
As I approach the bathroom, the ringing stops. Taking a quick peek through the cracked door, I see Quentin”s phone on the sink counter. I hesitantly pick it up. It’s a missed call from a number I don’t recognize.
Probably just a wrong number or telemarketer, I think as I turn to leave. But then something catches my eye.
A notification from a messaging app pops up on the screen.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I click on it.
In bold letters, there’s a message from Delilah, Quentin’s date from the engagement party. The wide-eyed brunette.
It reads:
Need a date for Ryder”s bachelor party weekend?
Suddenly, the air feels stifling, nearly suffocating. My heart is in my throat, and I can’t move. Even when Quentin’s footsteps break through the haze, I’m frozen to the spot.
”Alright,” he says, climbing to the top with a tray of breakfast foods in his large hand. ”We”ve got options: Ramsay pancakes I’m apparently famous for, or toaster waffles. Maybe even cereal if you”re feeling adventurous.”
From the bathroom doorway, I turn to face him, still stiff and unyielding.
”What”s wrong?” he asks, his smile fading at my expression.
I hold up his phone, showing him the message from Delilah. His face falls as he realizes what it means.
”Oh, that,” he says, eyes shifting from the phone to me. ”I was going to tell you about that.”
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
”I mentioned the bachelor party weekend to Delilah at the engagement party.” He blinks. ”I didn”t think she”d take it as an invitation.”
I lift a brow. ”Is it?”
”Hell no,” Quentin says, setting the tray down on the nearest flat surface. ”I”ll make that clear to her.”
”You sure?”
”Positive.” He comes over and takes my hand. ”I only have one date in mind for the bachelor party weekend, and that”s you.”
The knot in my throat loosens, but unease lingers.
”This Delilah woman calls a lot for someone who”s not invited,” I murmur.
Quentin grins, taking his phone from my hand. He glances at the screen before showing it to me. ”It”s not all her. Look, Danity”s agent also called and texted.” He turns the screen back around. ”Looks like Danity”s ready for her book tour stop in San Francisco, and she wants us to come.”
”Us?”
”You, me, maybe Freddie. Danity works better with backup. We”re a good team, you and me.” He moves closer, meeting my eye level. ”What do you say?”
I pause. “San Francisco?”
”Yeah, it”s close to Oakland, where you”re from. Doesn”t your dad still live in LA? Maybe we could visit him. Or swing by the Bay to say hello to your mom.”
Panic bubbles up. Oakland is where I grew up. It will always have a part of my heart. But going anywhere near my mom is a recipe for disaster.
”Won”t that be difficult with Ry and Jenny”s joint bachelor-bachelorette party next weekend?”
”Nah, the San Francisco stop is on Wednesday. I”ll book us something private from Tuesday night to Thursday. We”ll be back before the weekend even starts. And...” His green eyes focus on my face as he places a knuckle under my chin. ”The girls told me that Spring Break is this week, which means they can come too.” He smiles. ”Unless you plan to stay for the Spring Break parties as well?”
I laugh at his suggestion. ”Yeah, because me doing the Roger Rabbit at thirty is really going to draw a crowd.”
”We could always use some extra promotion for Danity”s book tour,” Quentin laughs, pulling me closer. ”Then it”s settled. We”ll go to San Francisco. Maybe we can even make a pit stop in Oakland on the way back.”
He grins, and I”m silent as he traces my lower lip with his thumb. I hesitate, trying to come up with an excuse, but Quentin”s hopeful expression makes it hard.
He”s good at making me let my guard down, even when I have a million doubts.
”Okay,” I finally say. ”For the book tour. And for the girls.”
”It’ll be fun.” He kisses my shoulder, now speaking against my skin. ”Maybe we can even sneak in a mini-vacation while we”re there,” Quentin suggests, his breath tickling me. ”Just the two of us.”
I nod, letting myself fall into the fantasy of a romantic getaway with Quentin and a break for Gabi and Val. With Jenny and Ry”s wedding coming up, us as Maid of Honor and Best Man, and Danity”s new release looming, supporting Quentin—after everything he”s done for me—seems like a no-brainer.
If only my brain worked that way.
I hug Quentin tighter, resting my head on his chest as he kisses my forehead.
”Now that that”s settled, let”s make our plans and eat.” He wraps me in one arm, reaching for the abandoned tray with the other. ”I”m starving.”