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“What are you talking about?”
“Trying to be all tough around boundaries with both my dad and Noah, and trying to be in charge of everything. You can’t ask me to be open and accepting about Noah, and then be a bitch about it later.”
I realized how much I’d screwed up when I saw tears in her eyes. She didn’t give me a chance when I began, “Sweetie—”
“Save it.” She dashed past me, the door slamming behind her as she hurried away.
The tears that had been threatening all morning spilled over. I leaned my hips against the counter and cried.
ChapterThirty
NOAH
“What the fuck?” I muttered to myself. I stared down at my phone after I finished playing Sasha’s message.
Just then, Dallas appeared in the doorway to my office. His eyes arced around the room, a crease forming between his brows when he looked back at me. “Who were you talking to?”
“My phone,” I said, holding it up.
“What’s up?” He walked in quickly, stopping in front of my desk.
“Sasha just left me a message and said we needed to take a break.”
“Out of nowhere?”
I nodded slowly.
“Did something happen?” he prompted.
I leaned back in my chair, restlessly drumming my fingertips on the armrest. “I think so. Remember how I mentioned Quinn’s dad called yesterday?”
Dallas nodded briskly. “Yeah, and you said you were going to tell Sasha.”
“I did, and she got upset. I didn’t think it wasthiskind of upset.”
“You should probably talk to her.”
Galvanized, I stood from my desk. I didn’t know why Sasha was so upset, but I wasn’t going to sit on this. Roughly a half an hour later, I was at her apartment. She was maintaining a cool silence.
In contrast, Quinn had things to say. “So Mom has an opinion.”
“What’s that?” I countered lightly, wishing I had reconsidered my plan to come over. We didn’t need an audience for this conversation.
“I guess my dad’s not supposed to call you about anything to do with me. Only she’s in charge of that. You know, boundaries and stuff.” Quinn’s tone was snide, and I wanted to tell her to cut it out. But now definitely wasn’t the time.
Sasha’s shoulders were held in a tense line as she stood at the kitchen counter, emptying the dishwasher. “Quinn, do you mind if I talk to your mom privately?”
That seemed to give her pause as her eyes bounced uncertainly from me to her mother and back again. “Why?”
“Because I would like to speak to your mother privately,” I explained the obvious.
“If it’s about me, I should be here.” Quinn twisted her lips with a little smirk.
Quinn generally wasn’t that annoying as a teenager. She had her moments, but this one was definitely the most frustrating of my experience.
“It’s not about you.” Which was true. I’d mishandled the situation, and Quinn’s involvement in it was secondary.
Quinn eyed me suspiciously, but she finally shrugged. “Fine.” She flounced out of the kitchen and down the hallway. I waited until I heard her door shut.
