Chapter 36 Quentin #2
Quentin grinned, moonlight catching the devil in his smile. “I’ll start planning your funeral. Closed casket, obviously. No one needs to see... remnants of you.”
Sadie gave him a dry look. “Fine. But I swear to God, Quentin, if there’s not an open bar, I will haunt you.”
“Top shelf,” he said solemnly. “Your ghost deserves nothing less than champagne and caviar.”
They walked in step along the gravel path behind the cabins. Sadie slowed, glancing up at him through her lashes. “You think anyone’s onto us?”
Quentin shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Hard to say. Should I start wearing a shirt that says Definitely Not Dating Sadie just to throw them off the scent?”
Sadie groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Yes. Please. In big, bold letters.”
“Would it be so terrible,” he asked softly, “if they were?”
She stopped dead in her tracks, turning to him so suddenly he almost walked into her.
“Yes, Quentin. You do realize you’re… you, right? And I’m just—”
Her voice trailed off, small and unsure in a way that made something in his chest pull tight. He stepped toward her, something dark and aching flickering in his eyes.
“You’re just what?” he asked, low and quiet. “Say it, Sadie. Say it so I know where to start burning it down.”
She tried to laugh, but it broke halfway out. “I don’t know. Not what people picture when they think Quentin Ramos’ date.”
She said it like a joke, like the words might sting less if she made them sound ridiculous. But he saw the truth underneath and fuck, it gutted him.
She shifted, folding her arms across her stomach like she could shrink herself down, like she wanted to vanish right there in front of him.
“I eat shredded cheese straight from the bag. I talk too much when I’m nervous. I’ve got cellulite and stretch marks and hair that does what it wants. I trip over flat surfaces. I have thighs that touch and days where I look in the mirror and wish I didn’t.”
He couldn’t believe she felt that way. She was better than him, smarter, braver, softer, sharper, everything he wished he could be. Every flaw she listed made him want to cup her face, pull her close, tell her she was perfect exactly as she was.
“Sadie,” he said, his voice rough and steady, “your appearance is the least remarkable thing about you. And that’s saying something because you are the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her breath caught. Her lips parted, like she wanted to argue, but he wasn’t finished.
“Your body is beautiful because you exist in it. It’s where you laugh with your whole chest. Where you go silent when your mind’s racing.
It’s where you fight for the people you love, where you ramble and overanalyze and say the most ridiculous shit that I quote to myself later because I miss your voice. ”
He reached out, gently tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering against her skin.
“It’s where you live, Sadie. And I adore every inch of it because it holds you.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, but she didn’t speak right away. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her sleeve, eyes searching his. The world around them was still. The cabins were dark, windows shuttered. Nothing but the trees listening.
“And what if I’m not made for this?” she whispered. “What if I don’t know how to belong in the kind of life you live?”
Quentin’s smile was small, sad around the edges. “You think I belong in it? I don’t. I’ve been pretending for so long, I forget who I was before the pretending started.” He closed the distance between them. “But you? You don’t have to change a single damn thing to be with me.”
Her lips parted, and for a moment she didn’t say anything. Then, softly: “Quentin.” She hesitated just a heartbeat more, then slipped her hand into his. Fingers tightening. Answering. That was all he needed.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him. Her hands clutched at his jacket, her cheek brushing against his chest. Quentin dipped his head, pressed a kiss to her temple, just breathing her in.
“I know,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
They stood like that for a long while, until he felt her soften into him, her cold fingers finding warmth against his ribs, her breath catching with each exhale. He tilted her face up, thumb skimming the curve of her jaw, studied her for one last breath then kissed her.
Sadie sighed into him, just the faintest sound but it hit him like a spark in dry grass. She kissed him back slowly at first, like she was still fighting the part of her that wanted to be cautious. But then something inside her gave, and she leaned in, finally letting go.
She tasted like strawberries and the last sip of coffee. His fingers threaded into her hair, the pad of his thumb brushing the back of her neck as he kissed her. When they finally parted, he stayed close, his forehead brushing hers, his lips a breath away from hers.
“Buenas noches, mi cielo,” he whispered, brushing another gentle kiss to her lips. “Sonaré contigo.”
Sadie’s eyebrows furrowed, the faintest crease forming as if a question was caught behind her lashes.
Then her eyes found his, and for one breathless second, he saw it.
A look, soft and uncertain, but real. The kind of look that said maybe she could believe him after all, even if it scared her.
She looked at him like he’d somehow reached up and set the stars in the sky with nothing but his own hands, as if he had made them shine just for her.
“Goodnight, my sky,” he said again, this time in English, voice just above a whisper. “I’ll dream of you.”
She didn’t answer. Just stared at him like she’d forgotten how to breathe. He kissed the corner of her mouth one last time, then stepped back though everything in him wanted to stay pressed against her.
The cold night air settled around him. But Quentin didn’t feel the cold. Not when her warmth lingered on his skin. Not with her eyes still catching stars like they were meant for her. For a heartbeat, he believed it, that he’d strung up the whole sky just to see her smile beneath it.