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They both spin toward me, surprised they have company. The moment Tristan meets my eyes, I know he knows.
Suddenly, I feel really,reallyshitty, and it shows on my guilt-ridden face.
“Tristan, we need to talk,” I choke out after a moment of silence, my wavering voice betraying my nerves.
“So much for keeping quiet,” Quinn utters behind me.
I ignore him as I turn my attention toward a soaked Polly. “Polly, can you go upstairs for a minute? We need to talk to Tristan,” I say, hoping she doesn’t decide to be difficult.
“Yes, I do mind,” she replies, boldly crossing her arms over her bust.
“Well, too bad,” I bark back, my patience wearing thin.
“It’s fine, Mia. She can stay,” Tristan says, which surprises me.
Polly cocks a challenging brow my way. But I don’t take the bait.
“Fine.”
How do I exactly tell him I chose his brother? To be fair, there was never a choice to be made. It was always Quinn.
“I…um,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks explode in a burst of red.
Quinn reaches for my sweaty palm and interlaces his fingers through mine.
The moment I feel his touch, my heartbeat slows, and I take a small breath. However, that breath gets caught in my throat as I watch Tristan’s eyes drop to our union. I automatically try and drop his hand, but Quinn holds on tight.
“Tristan, look—” But Quinn pauses, as Tristan’s eyes are still glued to our hands, and he looks absolutely furious.
I’m about five seconds away from running out the door, so I suddenly blurt out, “We had sex.”
Why my mouth filter malfunctioned and exploded into an uncomfortable mess right this second is beyond me, but now that it’s out, we’ve gotta roll with it.
However, Quinn closes his eyes and runs a hand down his face, softly groaning. No doubt he wishes I would just stick to my word and shut the hell up.
Polly bites back a chuckle. No doubt she loves watching me squirm.
“Tristan,” I quickly say. “I’m sorry.”
Once again, I’ve put my foot in it because Quinn turns to look at me, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow and letting go of my hand.
“No, I’m not sorry it happened,” I quickly amend, reaching for Quinn.
But when he and Tristan groan in unison, I decide now is a good time to shut up.
“It’s fine. I’m happy for you. No need to explain.”
He gives a casual shrug.
Both Quinn and I know he’s not fine, nor is he happy for us.
“Tristan—” Quinn sighs, but Tristan holds up a hand.
“Save it, Quinn. You got the girl. No need to gloat,” he bites back, pushing off the counter.
“I wasn’t going to—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
