Of course, the money wasn’t his. He wasn’t even sure he could accept the donations raised by Jenny and the queens. He was nowhere near his target, which he’d set to try to buy the shop himself. Despite the people visiting and donating, it was a big ask to find enough people to reach such a high price.
He slipped the paper back into its envelope, then added it to his drawer, being careful to keep it separate from the other envelopes noting eviction. There was one brief glimmer of happiness in a sea of despair in that drawer. Quinn slid it shut, locking it away, trying to forget about it.
The door pinged as it opened, and Quinn looked in time to see Ivy waving goodbye to Bloody Blair Beckett. She seemed to float into the shop, and Quinn watched her approach with a knowing smile on his face.
‘So … what’s going on there, then?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Ivy said.
‘You seem happy,’ Quinn said. ‘Your aura is pink.’
Ivy gasped. ‘Is it really?’
She spun around, looking behind her, as if she were trying to spot something on her back.
Quinn laughed. ‘Sopink.’
‘He makes me smile.’ Ivy seemed to choose her words with care. ‘He’s quite sweet, you know. I was a little worried about the red aura, but soon realised it’s more out of passion than malice and anger.’
‘Of course.’
‘He’s ruled by Mars, too.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You don’t have to believe me,’ Ivy said, her face as flushed as Mars’ surface.
‘Do you think it’s anything serious?’
‘We haven’t even kissed yet. It may just be a winter fling, but I’m okay with that.’
‘Good.’
Ivy’s phone pinged. She took it out of her pocket and smiled. Quinn watched her, feeling envious, sure his aura was now a bottle green.
‘Is that him?’
‘Hm?’ Her eyes didn’t lift from the screen. ‘Oh, yeah. Yes.’
Quinn decided not to push it. As much as he wanted to live a love life through Ivy, it was not his place to enquire about Blair and how he wooed Ivy. But he recognised the beginning seed of love being planted, nurtured during the colder months, ready to bloom in the spring.
Other than Dougie, his love life had always been just so-so. And Dougie hadn’t been impressive. Not too many gay men seemed to live or even stay in Hay. They either went to the cities or settled down with someone they met nearby. It meant that the pool of eligible bachelors was more of a puddle. Besides, Quinn admitted he was a bit of a borderline recluse. He lived above his shop, and he spent most of his days behind the counter or above it. But Noah had been a seed, thirsty for water, stifled and refusing to bloom.
He thought of Dougie, trying his best to think of the positive moments they had shared. The only positive that came to mind was that since blocking his number, he hadn’t heard from him. It confirmed to Quinn everything he needed to know. He didn’t matter to him. Maybe he never had.
The kettle boiled, bringing Quinn back to Ivy. He made them both a mug of tea, and a third for Daniel. They sat at the altar, a dysfunctional group dealing with their own feelings. Quinn looked around the shop with a wistful air. In just two days’ time, this whole thing could be over.
‘You can always rely on a cuppa.’ Quinn clenched the mug, forever thankful for something so familiar after such a weird day. They could demolish the place, but he’d be alright if he had his tea.
Mostly.
Ivy slurped her tea next to him, looking at him with an intense gaze.
‘What are you looking at me like that for?’
‘It’s not over, Quinn,’ she said. ‘Far from it.’
‘I agree with Ivy,’ Daniel said.
