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I turn to glare at Quinn for consorting with the enemy, but he looks at me, faking innocence.
“It’s true,” he says with a slight shrug.
“It’s a lovely nickname,” Cynthia has the gall to say.
Well, fuck them both.
I clear my throat. “I’m glad you approve.”
“Mia,” Cynthia says with a small frown, but I cut her off, ignoring the miserable look on her face.
“The answer is no. Thank you for the offer, but I’d rather be caught by the police or my father”—Cynthia flinches as I mention him—“than live under the same roof as you.”
I turn on my heel and slam the bathroom door behind me, needing to get the hell away from her.
Bracing my head into my hands as I slump onto the toilet lid, I scold myself for being so stubborn because Quinn is right. Itisa good idea, and I should suck it up and agree.
I should meet Cynthia halfway because this is what I want, isn’t it?
I just wanted her to open up and tell me the truth. But now that the opportunity has come knocking, I’m slamming bathroom doors in its face instead of embracing it.
A knock on the door interrupts my pity party for one, and I raise my head as Quinn enters the bathroom.
“She’s gone,” he says when I look over his shoulder to ensure she isn’t loitering behind him.
I’m suddenly embarrassed that I’m behaving like a two-year-old, but I can’t help it. The thought of trying to mend bridges with my mother scares me. What if she’s still a disappointment after everything is said and done?
Or worse yet, what ifI’ma disappointment?
Returning to my pity party, I groan and clasp my head with my palms, unable to face Quinn.
He gives me a minute to sulk before he kneels on both knees before me, lightly placing his hands on my thighs.
“Whatever you want to do, I’ll support you. You know that,” he says softly, and I know he means every word by the concern in his voice. “I’m on your side. Always.”
“I know. I’m sorry for acting like a spoiled brat. She just brings out this awful, childish, rebellious side to me.” I remove my hands, ashamed of my outburst.
“It’s okay,” he replies, thumbing my pouty bottom lip.
“So…” I sigh, feeling every bit as miserable as I probably look when the realization of what is about to happen hits home. “We’re doing this?”
Quinn nods with a smirk. “I’ve grabbed a few of your things.”
“That was a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”
“No, presumptuous would be telling your mother we’d see her in an hour.” He quickly stands to avoid my playful slap.
“You’re lucky I lo—” I stop myself before I drop the L-bomb.
Looking at Quinn’s rigid stance, I’m glad I stopped myself before embarrassing us both.
But as Quinn takes a step toward the door, he suddenly stops and slowly turns over his shoulder and whispers, “Every moment spent with you has me realizing how lucky I really am.”
“This is a bad idea,” I grumble as I dawdle up Cynthia’s driveway.
Just to rebel, we’re late, and I did this deliberately. My mother expected us an hour ago, but she can wait.
“C’mon, stop dragging your feet,” Quinn says, grabbing my hand as he hauls me through the inches of snow.
