‘Then we’ll find you somewhere else.’
‘Have you seen the rent around here?’ Quinn asked. ‘Impossible.’
‘You know I’m in London, don’t you? We could have a life there. Together.’
London. The scary city. A life so different from the one he currently lived. Could he leave this behind? Except … what would he be leaving behind? An apartment? His mother. Hay, of course, but Hay would always be here. Without his shop, there was no solid anchor or purpose.
And Noah. Sweet Noah. He’d come back, but for how long? Quinn didn’t think he could face losing him again.
‘But the job…’ Quinn said.
‘Mum’s book,’ Noah said. ‘I’ve already spoken to my publisher. They want to publish it.’
Quinn’s eyes widened. A publisher? Already? ‘Are you joking?’
How could this be possible? He had spoken to Hermione earlier. She hadn’t mentioned a thing about a publisher, only that they should meet.
‘No,’ Noah said. ‘Turns out they think her subject is very topical at the moment, and they want to help give her a platform to return to the spotlight, should she choose to. Helps that I make them lots of money, too.’
He made the last words a joke, but they both knew it to be true.
‘London’s expensive, Noah,’ Quinn said. ‘I’ve had some money donated to me, but other than that…’
‘They’ll give you an advance.’
‘An advance? Why don’t I know anything about this?’
‘They’re kind of doing me a favour,’ Noah admitted. ‘And it’s Christmas. They won’t be sending contracts until after Christmas. But my point is, it’s happening. Security. Safety.’
‘Oh, gosh.’
‘And a job that doesn’t require you to go into an office and pretend to be everyone’s friend. I own my little flat. We’ll be okay.’
Quinn held Noah’s hand, reading his handsome expression, trying to see if he was lying. ‘You’re asking me to move in with you already?’
Noah laughed. ‘I suppose it is quite soon.’
Very soon. Quinn didn’t just move in with someone straight away, no matter how attractive and talented they were.
‘What if we did long distance for a little while?’ Quinn asked. ‘You know, in case you turn out to be a serial killer.’
‘Fair,’ Noah said. ‘That would work. Gives me time to prep my dungeon.’
Quinn smirked. Maybe things would be okay. The universe had ways of putting you on a new track. This was his.
‘You know, it’s weird, but it feels like someone died.’
‘I understand that.’ Noah wrapped an arm around Quinn’s shoulder, kissing his forehead. ‘A part of you died. You mourn how you see fit.’
‘Where have you been since, like, forever?’
‘In London.’
ChapterForty-Three
The morning sun sprawled through the loft room where exposed brick walls met buffed-up wooden beams. A year ago, this was dusty attic space, where gigantic spiders laid their babies and did evil spider things. Now it was Quinn’s bedroom when he stayed at his mother’s home. Her house balanced the border, so that Quinn could sleep in the middle of the bed and half of him would be in Wales and the other side in England. He slept to the left, so that he would be in Wales.
Christmas morning. The heating on, and his room uncomfortably warm. He wore nothing except the blanket, and turning to the skylights, he blinked through the morning haze. He could already hear the noise downstairs; the smell floating up from the kitchen. His stomach rumbled as he thought of a delicious Christmas dinner.
