Chapter 43 Quentin
FORTY-THREE
QUENTIN
Quentin tried to enjoy his last day on set.
Really, he did. There were so many things he should have been soaking in.
The director, for once, was in a suspiciously good mood, handing out coffee gift cards like an overenthusiastic mall Santa.
The crew was all smiles, snapping photos, cracking jokes, and reminiscing about the past few months.
Tessa pulled him into a hug, already misty-eyed. “Don’t get me wrong, I had my doubts initially, but you were amazing to work with. You’ve got real talent, Quentin.”
“High praise,” he said dryly. “I’ll embroider it on a pillow.”
This was what he had wanted when he signed on. Validation from his peers. Proof he wasn’t just a handsome idiot with good lighting. And yet none of it landed.
Because his head was not here.
His head was picturing Sadie stuffing her life into a duffel bag, booking an early flight, and slipping away before things got too real.
He knew her. Knew the way she pulled back when things got too real, too solid beneath her feet.
He had seen that flicker in her eyes. The one that said this matters and that’s terrifying.
She had disappeared from set mid day. That wasn’t a good sign. Midday departures screamed existential crisis. Or food poisoning. And he was fairly certain it wasn’t food poisoning.
He clenched his jaw, nodding absently as a crew member handed him a framed photo from set, grinning like this was supposed to be a celebration.
He moved through the motions, handing out wrap gifts. Avery got an embossed leather binder with her initials in gold. Tessa got the perfume she had raved about months ago. Even Reggie got a gift card to that fancy restaurant Avery wanted to try.
And then, there was Sadie. She would get keys. Three of them: one to the ranch, one to his house in Los Angeles, and one to the cabin in Lake Tahoe. A key to every place he called home.
She could come and go as she pleased, flit between them at will. Redecorate them if she wanted. Burn them all down in a fit of artistic expression. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that she knew that wherever he was, she had a place.
Would she use them? Would she ever walk through that door and choose him? He had no idea but he had to try.
The day of filming ended, and with it came the much-anticipated wrap party, held in one of the old barns on the property. Avery had gone full commitment on the zombie theme. The e-vite had featured a zombie cowboy tipping his hat, blood splattered across the brim.
Quentin knew he had to make an appearance. Avery had spent weeks planning the damn thing, and skipping it would earn him a death glare that could turn him to stone.
Inside, the party was in full swing. Skeletons dangled from the rafters, a fog machine belched out eerie mist, and a punch bowl labeled Stomach Acid sat menacingly on the refreshments table.
The liquid inside was an unnatural greenish-yellow, the kind of color that looked radioactive, maybe even sentient.
He gagged just looking at it. Beside it sat a tray of cupcakes decorated like tiny brains sat on a tray, glossy and disturbingly veined with red icing.
Quentin smirked to himself. Of course Sadie had a hand in this. She never did anything halfway.
He hung back near the doorway, letting the buzz of the room wash over him. People were laughing, clinking glasses, taking blurry selfies in front of a cardboard coffin labeled RIP Sleep Schedule.
For a moment, it pulled him somewhere else.
He thought of Delly, how she would have lost her mind over a party like this, how she would have been first in line for a brain cupcake.
But the thought didn’t hit like a sucker punch this time.
No sharp wave of guilt, no hollow ache clawing at his ribs.
Instead, it rose gently, warm and easy, leaving behind only a smile.
Sadie had unknowingly recreated the kind of joyful weirdness his sister used to live for. And instead of hurting, it felt like a small gift.
Then, his gaze landed on her. He spotted Sadie across the barn, standing near Tessa.
And for a moment, everything else faded.
The music, the noise, the questionable zombie decor, it all blurred in the background.
She was laughing, head tilted back, eyes sparkling.
She was so beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made his chest feel tight, like his ribs had suddenly been resized for a man with a less full heart.
How the hell was he supposed to let her go?
Quentin made his way through the crowd, exchanging nods and brief conversations as people clapped him on the shoulder, congratulating him on the film. He stopped to chat with a few crew members, thanking them for their hard work.
He zeroed in on the last sugar cookie, iced white with a disturbingly realistic splatter of fake blood. Just as his fingers brushed the edge, so did Sadie’s. Their hands collided, fingertips grazing like a spark struck twice.
It felt like déjà vu, like that first day they met on set, but this time, everything was different. He wasn’t lukewarm about her. He was stupidly and hopelessly in love with her.
Five months. That was all it had taken to reduce him to a man who would willingly hand over keys to every property he owned and say take me with you.
Without thinking, because thinking had never worked where Sadie was concerned, he curled his fingers around hers, trapping her hand beneath his.
She turned to look at him, eyes caught between amusement and challenge. He met her gaze and held it, pulse racing, waiting.
She could have pulled away but she didn’t.
Instead, she did the one thing that shocked him: she laced her fingers through his.
It was small, almost nothing. For the girl who always kept the exit in sight, this felt like stepping inside and locking the door.
A silent yes in a language only he seemed to understand.
A voice came from behind them. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Sadie and Quentin turned in unison to find Tessa watching them with the kind of disgust usually reserved for public displays of affection or unseasoned chicken.
“Where there’s Sadie, there’s Quentin,” Tessa muttered, raising her drink like she was making a toast to suffering. “Lurking around like a horny little poltergeist.”
“A poltergeist?”
“A horny one,” Tessa repeated, completely unfazed. “You just appear. Uninvited. All broody and breathing loud.”
“That’s just my face,” he said, grinning. “But sure, slander me.”
Sadie was already laughing, the kind that made her shoulders bounce. God, he loved that laugh.
Tessa narrowed her eyes, then looked up and deadpanned, “Aw. How cute. Are you two about to make out under a zombie carcass?”
Quentin followed her gaze and immediately regretted it. Suspended above them was a foam zombie dummy, half its face melted off and dripping with very convincing fake blood. Its one dangling eye stared into his soul.
“Wow,” Sadie whispered, clutching his arm. “Just like I always imagined.”
He pulled her in like they were in a twisted Hallmark movie. “It’s a metaphor,” he said solemnly. “Love after death.”
Sadie laughed under her breath. “You mean love near death. That thing’s definitely leaking. I think it just growled.”
He smiled, eyes softening. “You like when I hover?”
“I’m getting used to it,” she said, her finger trailing lightly down the center of his chest. “Could warm up a lot faster if you gave me that cookie you were about to eat.”
Tessa groaned dramatically. “You two are gross. I can literally hear the eye contact.”
Quentin didn’t move his gaze. He leaned in closer, voice just for Sadie. “You can have the cookie,” he murmured. “You can have the tray. You can have the barn. You can have my entire—”
“Okay!” Tessa shouted. “We get it.”
Sadie laughed and almost leaned into him, noses nearly brushing.
Tessa covered her eyes. “Oh my God. Do it or disperse. Stop building tension like you’re charging admission.”
Sadie pulled back, laughing. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m dramatic?” Tessa scoffed. “I’ve endured five months of your ‘we’re not together, we’re just emotionally entangled and constantly touching’ act. The crew has a group chat without the two of you. It has screenshots.”
“There’s a chat?”
“And spreadsheets!” Tessa shouted. “Color-coded timelines. Bets. I lost money betting on the two of you going public after the snowstorm. You’re both dead to me.”
Quentin turned to Sadie, drawn to the way her eyes glittered like she was thoroughly enjoying the chaos. She didn’t look scared. Not even a little rattled that the entire crew knew about them and that gave him hope.
Sadie turned to her. “Wait, you were betting on us?”
Tessa swayed slightly, punch sloshing in her glass. “Are you kidding? I was the bookie. I made a March Madness bracket out of your emotional tension.”
Quentin frowned. “That feels… deeply invasive.”
“Oh, please,” Tessa scoffed. “You’ve been making heart-eyes since Valentine’s Day. Sadie’s been wearing your hoodie since March. Don’t act brand new.”
Sadie, still grinning, shook her head. “I think she’s had too much of the ‘stomach acid’ punch.”
Tessa wobbled slightly, peering into her cup. “Damn right I have. And I stand by everything I said.” She took another sip, grimaced, then looked at Sadie. “What is in this stuff?”
Sadie shrugged. “Whatever booze Avery and I found around the set.”
Tessa’s eyes widened as she took another sip. “Damn. It’s strongggg.” She let out a tipsy laugh, pointing a wobbly finger at them. “But you know what’s stronger than this punch? The ungodly, soul-destroying, tension between you two.”
Quentin chuckled, but when he glanced at Sadie again, the teasing glint in his smirk softened. “Can I steal you for a minute?”
Tessa threw her head back. “SEE?! Poltergeist. You summoned him.”
“Yeah,” she said, setting down her drink. “You can.”