To be honest, Quinn would have, too. Matty was gorgeous.
So, while Noah did the work, Matty enjoyed living the life he thought he was meant to live –which was to piss about and try to get some acting and modelling work on the side. Those acting gigs meant background artist work. Of course, there was nothing wrong with that, but it wasn’t quite the heights that Matty had implied.
Living that life was expensive, though, and Noah soon realised that he was funding Matty’s lifestyle. Matty had used Noah’s credit card to rack up a bill in Mayfair, Chelsea, and even a trip to Bora Bora with his thespian friends.
As Noah told Quinn everything one snowy December evening, he realised how much Matty had put Noah through.
‘You should get legal action.’
‘The man is a dick, not a criminal,’ Noah had said. ‘His heart is in the right place.’
Whilst Quinn didn’t agree, he admired that despite everything, Noah still wouldn’t hurt him.
Just as long as he kept his devilishly handsome looks away from him, all would be fine.
But any moment now, Noah would be back in town, this long-distance thing mainly only being from one end of the sofa to the other, because Noah had moved into Quinn’s apartment. It was why Quinn stood here, reminiscing, but also waiting to see Noah’s Bentley come down Castle Street.
‘End of an era.’ Ivy’s voice brought Quinn back to earth. Somehow, she always had that knack of appearing out of nowhere. He wondered if she was a spirit.
It was nice to see her. She hadn’t been in Hay since Christmas. Blair had whisked her away to Brisbane, where he had family, and she’d updated her Instagram with wonderful photos of beaches, summer, and a toned topless Blair. They hadn’t stayed long, but packed a lot in, Ivy wanting to return home to Hay for New Year. Something about the energy of it all and her astrological cartography.
Turns out, he’d been pretty serious about wanting to get to know her. They were already Facebook official, and with his minor celebrity status, Ivy madeHeatmagazine’s worst dressed list, much to her enjoyment. She’d found Quinn one day, tanned after her not at all jealousy-inducing holiday, and showed him the spread, a beaming smile on her face.
Now, wrapped in a blue coat, she joined Quinn in looking at the sold sign on the shop.
‘It is.’ He spoke. ‘Who do you think bought it?’
‘I heard an out of towner,’ Ivy said this with disdain, like it was illegal to live anywhere but Hay.
‘Well, I hope they look after it,’ Quinn said. ‘It’s a special place.’
Even if it is devoid of soul.
He’d made peace with it when the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve. He would leave it behind, cut it off with a cleaver. ‘New year, new me,’ he had declared to Noah, Hermione, Jerry and Claire. He didn’t tell them he said that every year.
‘Are you going to move to London?’ Ivy asked him.
The thought grew every day. With Hermione’s book being published, and the publisher being in London, it made sense to be nearby. But Noah, who had the same publisher, proved writing could work anywhere.
‘I don’t think so,’ Quinn said. ‘Not yet, at least.’
‘I’d hate to see you go,’ Ivy said.
‘And I’d hate to see you go.’
After all, with Blair fronting national news in London, she had her own dilemma to deal with.
‘Maybe we’re both destined for London.’
A car approached them from Castle Street, and seeing that it was black, Quinn thought it might be Noah. He felt the excitement swell inside him, but deflated when he noticed it was a Chrysler rather than a Bentley.
It pulled up outside of his shop, and Gordon got out of the car, a smile on his face.
‘When did you get this?’ Quinn asked him, admiring the spotless bodywork of the car.
‘With new jobs come new perks,’ Gordon said. ‘They’ve made me a partner.’
‘Bloody hell, of the property firm?’
