Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Hay went a full day with no snowfall, and the locals took advantage of the weather by clearing the roads leading in and out. As Quinn drove gingerly to Cusop Dingle, he passed others who were braving the weather. He approached Hermione's home, driving through the gates and onto her gravel driveway, hearing the stones ping against the metal body of his car. Anyone else may have winced, but Quinn was in a Land Rover from the 80s that once belonged to the local vet. Quinn swore it still had the smell of a sheep that apparently gave birth on the back seat in 2002.

As Quinn got out of the car, the chill creeping through his layers of clothing, he shivered. But not from the cold. He tugged his jacket closer to him and took two deep breaths like he was in a meditation class. The nerves in his stomach lessened, but he still felt tense as he knocked on the door.

Relax, Quinn. Relax.

It's just Noah.

Off the record.

Just Noah.

The nerves that twisted in his stomach were now beginning to flutter with excitement. He felt like electricity, and he was sure that if he touched the door handle, sparks would fly. A cosy night in Hermione's huge home with gorgeous food and a gorgeous author in front of him would be amazing. A dream almost.

He had to admit, if someone had asked him who his dream dinner guests would be, Hermione Sage wouldn't have made the list. Instead, he would have said what every literature lover would say: Hemingway. Austen. Kylie and Kendall Jenner.

Kylie and Kendall Jenner? Someone would ask, to which he would reply, Yeah, don't you remember the books that were written by a ghost writer for them?

And that would be that.

Noah Sage would be his dinner date rather than a guest.

The door opened, and the nerves came rushing back. Only now he couldn't wait for it to open, because the night was cold and the press .

But Hermione didn't peer around the door.

And it wasn't Noah.

A chisel-jawed Calvin Klein model stood before him, wearing a cashmere turtleneck and black jeans. He smiled at Quinn, and instead of being attracted, Quinn was angry.

Some people were just too attractive.

‘Hey there.' The man held out a hand, which was large, and Quinn had no choice but to shake it, noticing that there was no wedding ring. Oh, how he hoped this immaculate man was the gardener. Or the butler. ‘You must be Quinn? I'm Matty.'

Of course he was.

Matty no face actually had a face. And it was just as handsome as he thought it would be. How could he forget Matty was in town? What a fool he was to forget that this man existed in the same world as Noah and Hermione.

Matty made room for Quinn, and he stepped into the hallway, noticing how neatly parted Matty's black hair was. It was shiny and bouncy, like it was prepped for a man's hair commercial.

Matty looked like everything Quinn thought he should be. His cashmere jumper, while baggy, still alluded to his biceps. He was fashionable, intellectual-looking, neat and preened.

He wasn't Quinn.

Matty lifted his model arms to Quinn and relieved him of his jacket that looked old and tired compared to Matty's catalogue fashion. He hung it up on a nearby coat rack and, with that same happy-go-lucky smile, led Quinn towards the kitchen.

Quinn could smell the food before he entered. It smelled like Christmas dinner, with cauliflower and broccoli boiling on the stove, and roasting turkey in the oven. As Quinn entered the clinically clean kitchen, he was surprised to see it looking lived in. On the steel counters, there were four bottles of wine, and another one was on the kitchen table decorated with a Christmas tablecloth and pillar candles, flickering a warm glow. ‘Driving home for Christmas' was playing on an Alexa speaker.

‘Quinn!' Noah was the one cooking. He turned from the oven, wearing an apron that made him look like he was a ripped man in a tight speedo, and Quinn wished the ground would swallow him up. ‘You made it.'

He crossed the kitchen and engulfed Quinn in a hug, right in front of camera-ready Matty. When Noah moved away, he kept one hand on Quinn's neck, and the other grasped his shoulder, a smile on his face.

‘Nice apron,' Quinn said, looking Noah up and down, remembering that Instagram photo once again. ‘Do you always tan like that?'

‘No, he burns,' Matty said, coming up to Noah's side. He placed a hand on Noah's back, and Noah let Quinn go, his smile fading ever so slightly.

‘He's right, I do.'

‘We always have some after-sun lotion, just in case.' Matty smiled.

Quinn managed a smile too, but now he was thinking of Noah with lotion on his skin.

‘Quinn!'

‘Hermione!' Quinn said, rather too loud, and turned away from the handsome author and his Calvin Klein model with a hot face boyfriend. ‘You went all out. You didn't have to.'

‘Well, when Noah said you were coming over for food, I thought we should have an early Christmas meal!' Hermione wore a glittering dress, which shimmered as it caught the light from the candles. The room was dim, with the candles providing most of the light, but Quinn noticed the spotlights in each corner of the room glowing a warm amber. He realised that this room could transform into one of warmth with the right setting and the right guests.

Quinn's eyes glanced at Noah, and with a jolt, he saw Noah watching him. Reading him, maybe. Was this some twisted game of his? Get him jealous?

No. It couldn't be. Quinn needed to get real here. Noah was not single. Their romance only existed inside his head. Noah was off limits. Out of bounds. Very much in love with Matty, who had a face.

‘Champagne?'

He was in front of Quinn now, close enough that Quinn could see the freckles on his flushed skin. He wore a T-shirt, showing off his book tattoo, and Quinn fought the urge to reach out and trace his fingers over the bookmark that came trawling out of the inked pages on his skin.

‘Champagne would be perfect.'

‘The chicken is going to burn!' Matty said to Noah, and Noah went back to the oven, leaving Quinn standing with no purpose in Hermione's warm kitchen.

‘I hope this doesn't turn into a business meeting tonight, you two,' Matty said to Quinn and Hermione. ‘I hear you're writing her autobiography.'

‘Yeah, that's the plan.' Quinn eyed Noah again, wishing he had his champagne just so he had something to hold, something to put his attention into.

‘I was going to write it, but I'm far too busy.' Matty wrapped his arms around Hermione, bringing her close. She giggled. ‘I'm sure you'll do just as well, Quinn.'

Not only did Matty have a face. He had the personality of a dick.

‘I can only try.'

‘Noah says you're a bookseller,' Matty said, still holding on to Hermione like she was his and only his. ‘That must be nice.'

‘Yeah, that's right.' Quinn had no intention of bringing up the rocky future he had as a bookseller. ‘And what do you do?'

Noah handed Quinn a flute of champagne, and he took a hearty sip.

‘I'm a model,' Matty said.

Sure, why not?

‘A poet.'

That too.

‘A writer.'

Mhmm.

‘Got an acting gig coming up in the New Year, too.' Matty smiled.

‘Who are you playing?' Quinn asked.

‘I can't share too many details right now. Contractual obligations.'

‘Food is almost ready,' Noah interjected, and Quinn was relieved from hearing about the rest of Matty's successes, and how much better he was at life.

He chose a seat at the other side of the table from Matty, keeping as much distance from him as possible. He shook the feeling of discontent for Matty's chiselled face because Matty hadn't done a thing to him.

Other than calling Noah his partner, of course.

Quinn drank a little too much of his champagne as Noah served dinner and, as a guest, was the first to receive a plate full of tantalising food. Four slices of turkey lay to one side of the plate, dressed in gravy. Cauliflower, broccoli, carrots, and peas created a burst of colour next to the meat, and potatoes of the boiled and roasted kind let off steam, which floated in front of Quinn's face. His stomach rumbled when he eyed the fluffy Yorkshire pudding.

‘We have cranberry sauce.' Hermione gestured to the condiments on the table.

‘I know this might be weird, but I'd prefer mint sauce.' Quinn reached for the mint sauce, dropping some over his vegetables. ‘Maybe a dash of cranberry, too.'

Matty's food came next, sparing of the food. Quinn noticed he didn't have meat. ‘I'm a vegan.'

Why wouldn't he be? His environment-saving diet had one-upped Quinn once again.

Noah served the rest of the food, then added gravy boats to the table. He returned, shedding his apron and sitting next to Quinn with his own plate, which was not sparing of the food and meat. Underneath the table, their knees brushed. Quinn's eyebrow raised as he glanced at Noah, but Noah remained unreadable.

‘Cheers.' Matty held out his own glass of champagne, and they all clinked their glasses together.