“I fully intend to,” I replied, trying to calm myself down. “Boyfriend?”
“That’s what you’re meant to be today.” Quentin broke free from my arms. “I need to mingle.”
“If you want them to keep their hands, I suggest you make sure they don’t land on you,” I reminded her.
She muttered under her breath, “Possessive dickbag,” before leaving.
Sitting down at an empty table, I watched her obsessively. The tension she’d carried with her since we descended hadn’t left, but being around her family relaxed her.
This was how her life should be. Quentin was the embodiment of success. The golden girl who deserved to be worshipped. Instead, she’d withdrawn from Gods and mortals alike while she worked through issues alone, untangling them in her mind and trying to make sense of it all.
I would make it my life’s work to ensure she never felt this way again—weighed down and alone in strife.
“Are you ready to leave?” I asked when we’d waved Cassidy and Sophie off from the venue.
Quen swallowed hard and nodded. I pulled her around the side of the building. Most of the guests would be too drunk to worry about where she had disappeared to. The black of my aura wrapped around us before taking us back to her home. We stood in her bedroom, and Quentin stepped away from me.
“Do you need help with your dress?” I asked.
The lilac number hung off her shoulders and draped down to the floor, hiding her figure. I couldn’t decide if I was grateful or irritated by Sophie’s choice in dress.
“I can manage,” Quen said.
We’d moved back into the awkward space we once occupied where neither of us understood what laid between us. I wanted to respect her and the time she needed, but the frustration was growing.
“Okay. Well, night.” There was nothing more to say and so I made a move towards the door.
“You are my priority,” she whispered as I reached it. “I never told you because I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to admit that you’d become so important in my life, but you, Grayson, you are my priority.”
I dropped my hand from the doorknob and turned around to face her. How young she looked, hunched in on herself and gaze darting around the space.
“Is that all?” I asked.
“That’s all you have to say to me?”
“Quentin, you know where I stand. You told me you needed time and I will give it to you. Telling me I am your priority is nice but nothing more than words that are thrown into an already complicated situation.”
“Okay,” she snapped, straightening up, unhappy that I hadn’t bent to her whim. “Then yes. That’s all.”
With a frustrated sigh, I swallowed back a response and left the room to return to the guest bedroom I occupied when I first moved in with her. The vague sound of fabric tearing reached my ears, followed by Quen’s frustrated scream. I huffed a laugh and walked into my room, stripping out of the suit I’d been confined in all day.
I loved her.
Adored her.
Worshipped her.
It amused me how her divinity shone through sometimes. Quen wanted to do the bare minimum, avoid the difficult conversations, and be given the fruit of it. I wouldn’t allow that.
There was a rush of cold air as the door opened again, and I closed my eyes, waiting for Hurricane Quentin to be unleashed.
“Actually,” she announced as I turned around. I bit the insides of my cheeks to find her clad only in her underwear. “No, that’s not all.” She stuck her hands on her hips, and the room darkened.
Grabbing my discarded shirt, I walked over to her. “If you’re going to have an argument with me, I’d appreciate you do it while clothed.”
Her cheeks flushed red as she took the shirt and shrugged it on, wrapping her arms around her waist.
“Please, continue,” I said, sweeping my arm out as I took a seat on the edge of the bed.
