Chapter 23
Teagan
“Whoa,” I mumble as I step foot into Quentin’s house and a bolt of shock rolls through me.
I knew he was a professional athlete, which meant he most likely had a decent amount of money, but I didn’t expect his house to bethisnice.
Not only is his home located in a gated community, and yes, based on what I can see, the interior is just as luxurious, there’s a sign of life here that hits you as soon as you walk in the door.
It’s not spotless or without anything out of place. There’s folded laundry on the living room table. A few drying dishes sit on the counter. Photos of Olivia are hanging on the walls.
“Do you want to see the house or is this the only spot you plan to stay in?” he pipes up from beside me, shaking me out of my inner thoughts.
“I was merely taking it all in,” I tell him, eyes still drifting off to all the little quirks I can see. It makes me feel at home, if that makes sense, knowing he’s human and leaves things laying around. The entire ride over I was stressed that it was going to be one of thosehomes you’re afraid to touch anything in. Except it’s the complete opposite from what I can see so far.
“We can hold off on a tour. Do you want to rest? It’s been quite the day,” he offers, reminding me of the dull headache I’ve been having since we left the doctor’s office.
“Rest would be great,” I say as I begin to follow him up the stairs. “Plus, it’ll be more fun to snoop around when you’re not here.”
“Such a brat.” He tsks as his shoulders shake with a laugh.
“May as well get used to it.”
Quentin looks at me over his shoulder, and God, why did he need to have the prettiest eyes?No, focus.
“Maybe I like it.” He tosses the words out casually.
“Platonic, remember?” I remind him as we reach the top of the staircase.
“That’s why I saidmaybe,” he fires back, making me chuckle quietly.
Quentin leads me down a hallway, pointing to a room on his right. “This here is my room.”
“I thought you were showing me mine…”
“I just wanted to show you in case you ever need to find me,” he explains, and we continue down the hall. I don’t plan on ever needing to find him, but I suppose it can’t hurt to know.
He opens a door to his left and waves me forward.
“There’s not much in here, but this is going to be Blueberry’s room.”
I glance around the room, noting the fresh smell of paint. The walls are white, with swatches of different colours on the wall. There’s a white dresser and matching crib, similar to the one I had at my place. My eyes linger there for a beat at the reminder that I lost everything today. God, what a fucking day.
I’m about to turn around to face him when my eye catches on a stuffy sitting in a rocking chair, shaped like a blueberry with a smile on it.
My belly does this weird twisty thing again, making my hands instantly cradle my tiny belly.
Quentin’s in front of me in seconds, panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I smile. “My belly felt weird for a second. I’m probably just hungry.”
He mutters something in French as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m so sorry. We planned to get lunch and then all that happened. What would you like?”
“I can order something in. It’s no big deal.”
“Ordering food in a gated community is actually a pain in the ass,” he points out, then adds, “Let me cook for you.”
“I can cook for myself. I’m pretty good at it.” I cross my arms over my chest, not wanting to impose more than I already am.
