Quinn shut off the water and stepped out, reaching for a towel—only to stop short.
Gypsy stood there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. She didn’t startle. Didn’t rush to cover herself. No, she just looked at him, taking in his presence and the tension in his stance.
Usually, he would have joined her in the shower. Another sign of howoffthings were between them.
“I didn’t use all the hot water,” she said coolly, wrapping herself in a towel as she turned away.
“Quinn, I need you to talk to me.”
She met his gaze in the mirror. His dark eyes searched hers, full of something—regret, frustration, maybe even guilt. It wasn’t enough.
“You aren’t available to us anymore,” she said simply. “You’re either in meetings for your company or in meetings with the club.”
“I’m trying to keep things on track.” His voice was steady, but she could hear the defensiveness laced beneath it.
“You have plenty of time for the club. Plenty of time for work. Just not for us.”
Gypsy flinched, like the truth had landed heavier than he expected.
Quinn moved past him, tying her robe around her waist. She felt his hand wrap around her arm, a reflex—an attempt to stop her from walking away.
She snatched it back.
He didn’t get to do that. Not after shutting her out, not after making her feel like an afterthought.
“I’m going away for the weekend,” she said, voice quiet but firm.
God, she needed a break, a fresh perspective. And Gypsy needed to remember what it was like to be a father first.
Gypsy frowned, searching her face. “Quinn?—”
“When I get back, you need to have things figured out,Nicolea.”
His real name hung between them, heavy with warning, with finality.
She watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard, but she didn’t give him the chance to respond. She turned, stepping into the bedroom, and closed the door behind her.
Just as he had closed his office door earlier, shutting her out without a second thought. Let him sleep in the spare room. Or better yet, with Tatty—she could use her dad.
Tomorrow was a new day.
Hopefully, a better one.
Chapter Two
Walking intoThe Bread Bowl,Brandi smiled at the sight of Echo cozied up at one of the little bistro tables.
The bakery had the kind of warmth that wrapped around you the second you stepped inside—like leaving the busy streets of a city and wandering into a quiet Italian café. The scent of fresh bread, warm vanilla, and rich espresso hung in the air, blending with the soft murmur of patrons and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine.
Echo sat bundled up, flipping through a stack of cooking magazines, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her alongside a plate of golden, flaky scones. The soft glow from the hanging lights cast a golden hue over the exposed brick walls and rustic beams, making the whole place hum with easy, relaxed energy.
Brandi grinned. "Well, aren’t we the lady of leisure?"
Echo jumped so hard she nearly toppled out of her chair, her magazine slipping from her hands.
Brandi clapped a hand over her mouth, laughter bubbling out. "Oh, Echo, I’m so sorry."
Echo exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her chest. "You are an absolute menace." She shook her head and gestured to the empty seat across from her. "Sit."
