“We’ve spoken about you saying you’re okay when you’re not.” Quin tried for stern, but he landed more at exhausted. He distantly noted that Shaun was also in the front, the red curlspeeking around the headrest a dead giveaway. The faint smell of petrol tickled the inside of Quin’s nose.
Kit sighed. “I’m already recovering from my brief reacquaintance with the sun, you don’t need to worry.”
“Fuck.” The words weren’t reassuring in the least.
“Can we accept that he’s not Lawrence now and unchain him…or?” Shaun asked, drawing out his final word.
“We should keep them on,” Rake said.
“Trustyouto be the one wanting to keep him trussed up like that,” Shaun remarked.
“Sweetheart, are you trying to get a rise out of me?”
Quin cut in. “I’m fine staying like this until we get to the house. Has DJ taken the other car?” he asked, his tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth.
“Yeah,” Shaun replied. “More of us were needed here, considering our lack of a means to curb Lawrence’s habit of showing up uninvited.”
“I didn’t want to deal with any more of DJ’s music, anyway,” Rake commented mildly.
“Oh, you don’t enjoy listening to him perform the entirety ofHamilton?” Shaun asked. Quin could hear the smile he wore.
“No,” Rake said. “It got boring after the first fifty times.”
Quin looked out at the quiet motorway as they zoomed along. Stitching together his memories was faster than the times before, but it still gave him a headache when he thought too hard about everything. It was only when he recalled Lawrence rooting through the side table that his palms went sweaty.
“You found the necklace, right?” he asked, though he was more worried about a different piece of jewellery.
“Yeah,” Kit said, eyes flicking to meet Quin’s in the rearview mirror for a split-second. “It was in your pocket.”
“You didn’t happen to find anything else, did you?”
“Your phone was missing. I’m not sure where it ended up.”
The bottom of the pond, Quin assumed. Shaun coughed pointedly, but Quin was unsure who it had been aimed at.
“I found the box,” Kit said carefully.
Quin’s stomach swooped. “Did you open it?” he asked, barely breathing.
Kit turned around to face Quin for a second. “Yes,” he said with a nod before focusing on driving again.
Quin deflated. “Dammit.”
“Oh, no, I uh?—”
“You didn’t?”
“I do, I mean, Idid. Shit.”
Shaun threw his hands up in the air. “Just ask him the bloody question, Quin!”
Quin’s eyes widened. He’d wanted to do a speech, make it all meaningful, do it at the beach at one of their favourite private spots. He should have been down on one knee, at the least. But no. He was wrapped in chains in the backseat of a car and with a head so scrambled he couldn’t string two sentences together.
“Kit, willyoumarryme?” he blurted. It sounded like a sneeze, not a proposal.
“Yes,” Kit said decisively.
It felt too easy. “Really?” Quin asked.
