Chapter 42
Teagan
I walk in the house from my lunch date with Ian. It’s something we used to do monthly, but lately has been happening weekly, either lunch or dinner. The increase due to the fact that I’m home more than I was while competing, on top of him also prioritizing his relationships more now.
I’ve been enjoying seeing him more and this new, more carefree side to him. Plus, things between him and Quentin have never been better, taking a huge weight off my shoulders.
So overall, life’s been really good lately.
My pregnancy has been moving along well too, my only issue being the back pain I’ve been getting. It’s finally not hurting today for the first time in a week, a win I’ll take these days.
Between my belly and my tits growing, I’m not sure which is to blame for the increase in pressure on my lower back lately. I’m just happy my days of nausea are over. The only symptoms I really have now is lower back pain, being hungry and horny twenty-four seven.
Quentin’s been giving me back rubs on the couch nightly, and it’s taken everything in me not to try to and have it go further than that.
There’s been a shift between us, and I don’t know exactly how platonic we are anymore. Between him taking care of me, our mini golf outing that seems like a date the more I think about it, and the smiles and gazes that linger more than they once did.
Add in our intimate moments and things don’t seem as clear-cut as before.
The need for him has always been there, and lately it’s been more potent than ever.
Seeing him talk to our daughter through my belly, finish setting up her room, or attending to me has me wanting to do unspeakable things to him. There’s something about seeing a man do manly things that is the biggest fucking turn-on.
But while that need has been poking at me, so have the reminders that this has the potential to end really badly.
If we try to make it work and it doesn’t, then what kind of life is that for our daughter? Tension-filled pick-ups and drop-offs, never doing family parties together, or celebrating holidays together.
Whereas right now, we can do all of those things with no hostility.
It’s why I’m grateful that we were interrupted on the couch that night. Because I was about to tell him that I want to try–being together, that is. I took it as a sign from the universe that I wasn’t meant to say those words and tucked them back into a mental box that I don’t plan on opening again.
Shaking off the thoughts, I make my way to the kitchen, noticing that Quentin’s office door is open and there are muffled voices.
I shouldn’t eavesdrop, I really shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I creep closer, being careful not to make a sound as I press my back against the wall near the open door.
“Thanks, Matheo. I’m excited to be a dad,” he tells him, who I’ve learned is his brother. I know they haven’t talked in a while as he’s been off traveling through eastern Europe, going off the grid, so he must be telling him the news now.
Quentin believes the rest of the family is most likely aware because even though they don’t keep in contact, he has inside information that they still keep tabs on him and Camille.
“What’s the situation with the mom?” Matheo asks, his voice clear as he’s on speaker.
Quentin hesitates, taking a few seconds before responding.
“Nothing. We’re friends who will co-parent together,” is his monotone response.
And it pisses me off for whatever reason. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but…all I know is I don’t like that.
“C’mon, Q. You must like her, no?” he asks.
I hear him sigh before he replies, “It’s not like that at all. We’re too different. I could never be with someone like her.”
I could never be with someone like her. Those words ring in my ears, the feeling of not being good enough familiar. My mom never wanted me, so why would Quentin want to be with me either, right?
And while I know we agreed to just be friends, it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear him so bluntly say that.
“I think you’re full of shit,” Matheo says bluntly.
“Whatever, I’ll talk to you later,” Quentin says, ending the call.
I attempt to move away from the wall before he sees me, but just as I’m about to move, we make eye contact.
“Teagan.”
“Save it,” I say curtly, hastily making my way to the stairs and up to my room with him hot on my heels.
“Teagan, look at me,” Quentin says from the frame of my door.
“No,” is all I say as I reach for my duffel bag under the bed and throw it on top of the bed.
“W-what are you doing?” he asks, sounding scared.
“Leaving.”
It’s my instinct to run, to avoid being hurt more than I already am.
I open a drawer and begin throwing things in the bag when Quentin gently grabs my hand, stopping me.
“What the hell is going on? Is this because you heard my conversation with my brother?”
I pull my hand out of his and rest both of my hands on my hips. “Yeah, I did. So I’m not going to spend another second here bothering you.”
“I never said you bother me,” he tries to defend.
“You said we’re too different and that you could never be with someone like me.
Sorry I’m not a sweet girl who shoots sunshine out of her ass, or whatever it is about me that you don’t like.
But I won’t change for anyone.” My voice is steady, despite the shakiness in my legs, adrenaline coursing through me.
“I don’t want you to change, Teagan.”
“Whatever, Quentin. You were right. We’re too different and we’d never work out,” I say, even though it’s the farthest thing from the truth.
In fact, I think it’s why I’m so pissed off. Because for a while now, I’ve been wanting to be more than his friend, yet too scared to admit it. I almost did once, and I’ve been trying to suppress it since then. So to hear him write us off to his brother like that was a stab in my chest.
Fuck, why do feelings have to be so complex and confusing?
“We are different, Teagan, but I like that. I like that you challenge me. I like how passionate you are about the things you love. I like how you stay true to yourself, no matter what. There is no one like you, and it’s my favorite thing about you.”
I stare at him, my chest heaving with my sudden anger and confusion over it. God, I hate these hormones. Because despite the anger, there’s a part of me that is melting over his words.
“Why did hearing that piss you off so much, huh?” he prods when I don’t answer as he walks toward me until my back hits the wall.
I look up at him, not willing to give myself away. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. But if you don’t want to talk, maybe I can guess,” he pauses, and when I don’t say anything, he continues on. “You’re mad that I didn’t tell him the truth. When the truth is that I’m fucking crazy about you.”
“You’re just saying that because I’m carrying our child,” I refute, rolling my eyes to try to play it off like he’s wrong. Meanwhile, he’s spot on. While I suspected he may have feelings for me, I needed to hear him say it out loud. To know that I’m not alone in my feelings.
“I’ve thought about you every single day since the night we met. I debated on using my old friend who’s into hacking to get into the camera system at the bar to figure out who you were so I could talk to you, ask you on a date,” he admits, stealing the breath from my lungs.
His eyes trail over my face, my lips parting to say words but nothing comes out.
“So no, Teagan. This isn’t because of some moral obligation because of our baby.
It’s because since day one, you haven’t left my thoughts, and now that I know you?
You’re my favorite part of every day. And I think you feel that way too.
It’s why your feelings were hurt and you wanted to run, isn’t it? ”
No words are exchanged as we gaze into one another’s eyes. His so vulnerable and soft, while I’m sure mine are the same. Because I’m tired of fighting this pull to him.
“But what if—”
“We can’t live by what-ifs, mon coeur. We will deal with whatever happens, when it does.
And if it goes south, which I really don’t think will happen, we will make it work.
I know that for certain because our love for this little girl is going to be more important than a falling-out between us,” he says, every word unravelling the guards I’ve put up around myself.
“Stop talking and kiss me,” I demand, desperate to have his hands and lips on me, unrestrained this time.
“There’s no going back,” he warns me as he cranes his neck, his nose nudging against mine. “Once we do this, you’re mine.”
“Show me what it would be like to be yours,” I rasp, brushing my lips against his.
And then he snaps.
His lips crash down onto mine, this kiss so different than any that we’ve shared. It’s a promise mixed with passion and need, our lips showing each other exactly what we’ve been holding back.
Both of his hands cup my face as he pours everything into this kiss, his lips moving over mine with precision yet untamed desire.
When I whimper into his mouth, he leans down and picks me up, my legs wrapping around his waist despite my belly protruding between us.
He begins walking and I break the kiss, asking, “Where are we going?”
“Our bed,” he huffs, not explaining further because I know what he’s saying with that. From now on, his room is going to be our room.
Quentin drops me onto his bed, carefully of course, and God, I can’t wait till I’m no longer pregnant so he can toss me around.
He strips his clothes, and my eyes trail over his toned and built body with rapt attention.
“See something you like?” he drawls as he climbs over me.
“Everything.” I swallow, more meaning to my words than I’d like.
Quentin stares at me from above, his fingers grazing my cheek as he says, “Listen, pretty girl. I’ve been a gentleman. I’ve restrained myself. But tonight I want to have my way with you. That sound okay?”
“Please,” I croak, my voice going raw with need for him to use me and do whatever he’d like.