Chapter 28 #2
Quinn stepped in, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click. The air shifted, warm and charged.
“Hey yourself,” she murmured.
Before Avery could say anything else, Quinn crossed the small stretch of floor between them and kissed her. Soft. Quick. More hello than anything else, but it still made Avery’s pulse jump.
When Quinn started to pull back, Avery smiled against her lips. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
Avery’s voice was soft, amused. “Never say sorry for kissing me.”
Avery laughed quietly, brushing her fingers down Quinn’s sleeve before letting go. “Conference room’s yours. Coffee machine’s still finicky, but the intern finally figured out how to make it behave.”
“I’ll risk it,” Quinn said with a grin.
And then she was gone, the door easing shut behind her, leaving Avery smiling at her desk like an idiot before she forced herself back to her laptop.
* * *
Around noon, the three of them headed out for lunch. The sidewalks were still damp, puddles catching reflections of the gray sky, but the air had that clean, cold smell of early November that always made Avery feel awake.
As they walked, Quinn’s hand brushed hers before sliding in fully, fingers intertwining. The touch was discreet, but steady. Confident. Avery didn’t pull away.
Gabby caught the look they exchanged and rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “You two are disgustingly cute,” she muttered.
Quinn only smirked. “We try.”
They ducked into a little corner bistro a few blocks from the office, a place Avery and Gabby frequented for client lunches.
The lighting was soft, the smell of roasted garlic and coffee hanging in the air.
They were seated in a booth near the back, menus barely opened before Quinn was already sliding a folder out of her bag.
“Okay,” she said, setting it between them. “So, business.”
Avery leaned in, watching her shift seamlessly into CEO mode.
Quinn outlined everything clearly, the structure of the merger, the shared resources, the timeline for the official announcement.
Halo would begin integrating some of Lilith’s backend systems within the month.
Lilith’s safety and trust teams would collaborate with Halo’s tech which would lead to expand user security measures.
“The press release should go out next week,” Quinn said, flipping a page. “We’ll need coordinated statements from both companies. I can have my PR director draft something, but I’d like your input before anything goes public.”
“Absolutely,” Avery said. “I want the tone to feel collaborative. Not like we’ve been absorbed.”
Quinn nodded. “Agreed. This isn’t a takeover. It’s a partnership.”
Gabby scanned one of the documents, her brows lifting. “I like this section about team mobility. The idea of cross-company training could be really good for growth.”
“That’s the goal,” Quinn said. “I want both teams to feel like they’re gaining something—not losing autonomy.”
Avery leaned back in her chair, absently twirling her straw in her glass. “How are we going to do that, though? Zoom? Travel? L.A. or New York?” She tilted her head, thinking aloud.
Quinn paused, her expression thoughtful. “We could…” she started, then stopped, brow furrowing in thought.
Before she could finish, Gabby jumped in, eyes lighting up.
“What about a team-building weekend? Like a proper introduction between both teams. Somewhere neutral so everyone feels like they’re on equal footing.
A mountain resort would be perfect. Quiet, private, and big enough for workshops during the day but with time for fun at night.
Bonfires, dinners, hiking, drinks—people could actually bond. ”
Avery’s face brightened. “I love that.”
Quinn smiled, the kind of smile that softened her whole face. “So do I. It’s smart—and it’s good optics. It shows this is real. Not just a merger on paper.”
“Exactly,” Gabby said. “We make it feel like a retreat, not a rollout.”
Avery nodded, already picturing it. “Let’s do it. Somewhere with fireplaces and hot chocolate. Cozy and beautiful. The kind of place that makes people want to talk.”
Quinn’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, voice warm. “I think that’s exactly what we all need.”
After that, it was logistics—press releases, language, scheduling.
Quinn suggested Halo’s communications team draft an initial statement by Monday; Avery wanted to include a quote from both of them, side-by-side.
They talked about potential launch dates, media timing, even the possibility of co-hosting a charity event to celebrate the merger publicly.
By the time their plates were cleared, all three of them were grinning. The energy at the table felt lighter, like they’d all exhaled at once.
“This is really happening,” Gabby said, closing the folder and tapping it once against the table. “Halo and Lilith. I can’t believe it.”
Quinn reached for her water glass, her eyes flicking toward Avery with a faint smile. “Believe it. This is just the start.”
Avery caught her hand under the table, just for a second, hidden, enough to make Quinn glance at her with that quiet, private look she loved.
When they stepped back out onto the sidewalk, the rain had stopped completely. The air smelled clean, the sky a muted silver. Quinn slipped her sunglasses from her bag out of habit. Avery laughed softly, shaking her head.
“What?” Quinn asked.
“You look like you’re about to close another billion-dollar deal.”
Quinn smiled. “Maybe I just did.”
Gabby groaned, but she was smiling too. “You two are impossible.”
Avery only squeezed Quinn’s hand tighter as they headed back toward Lilith, the city moving around them in slow, steady rhythm. For the first time, it felt like everything, business, love, all of it—was aligning.
* * *
They’d talked about going out—somewhere nice to celebrate the merger, the contracts, the fact that everything finally felt like it was falling into place. But when it came down to it, neither of them wanted to leave the apartment.
A fancy dinner didn’t sound nearly as good as the idea of just being home together.
Avery had run a bath instead, filling the tub until the air smelled faintly of lavender and citrus.
They’d soaked until the water turned warm and silky, Quinn’s foot brushing hers beneath the surface, soft laughter echoing in the steam.
They talked for a while, then didn’t, because the quiet between them was enough.
Now they were on the couch, curled together, the city lights painting soft gold through the rain-speckled windows.
Takeout cartons cluttered the coffee table, the remnants of Thai food scattered among chopsticks and a half-eaten spring roll.
Killing Eve played low on the TV, a bottle of whiskey open beside them.
Henrietta was stretched at their feet, a content little queen guarding her spot, tail twitching lazily. Avery sat between Quinn’s legs, her back resting against Quinn’s chest, the steady rhythm of her breathing grounding her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.
For once, there was no work, no planning, no pressure, just the sound of rain, the hum of the city, and Quinn’s hand tracing circles on her thigh.
“Hey,” Quinn murmured, her voice low and soft against Avery’s ear.
Avery tilted her head back slightly. “Yeah?”
Quinn hesitated just long enough for Avery to feel her heartbeat pick up. “I’m supposed to fly home tomorrow,” she said quietly, her breath brushing Avery’s neck. “But what if I changed my flight and stayed through the weekend?”
Avery turned to face her fully, eyes wide. “You can do that?”
“I can,” Quinn said, a small, almost sheepish smile tugging at her mouth. “I’ll have to work from your office for the rest of the week, but… I’m the boss. I think I can make that work.”
Avery felt her chest warm in that way it always did when Quinn surprised her—when she chose them over everything else. She leaned forward, cupped Quinn’s face, and kissed her softly. “I love you,” she whispered. “And I’d love that.”
“Good,” Quinn said, the word almost a sigh as she smiled. “Me too.”
Avery turned back around, settling between her legs again, pulling the blanket higher over both of them. Quinn’s arm slid around her waist, her thumb tracing lazy patterns over the fabric of her shirt.
Avery pressed play.
The show started again, the faint flicker of the TV lighting the room in pale blues and golds.
Outside, rain began to fall harder, drumming against the glass.
Quinn’s chin rested lightly on her shoulder, her breath warm against her skin.
Avery melted back into her, content and drowsy, the weight of the last few weeks finally easing off her chest.
It felt like peace. Like home.
And when Quinn’s fingers found hers, lacing them together, Avery thought, quietly and certainly, that she could stay like this forever.
* * *