Page 50 of The Arrangement

Quinn looked like he was about to leave when Hannah decided that it was in her best interest to check in on the man inside her house. The fat cat wasn’t used to men—my grandmother got her as a kitten after my grandfather died, and it had just been us three for a long while. Without a word, Quinn crouched down and put his hand out to the pudge faced feline and waited patiently for her to come to him.

“Oh, she doesn’t really like men?—”

I watched in quiet shock as Hannah bypassed his hand all together to rub on his leg, allowing him to scratch behind her ears and down her back like she had known him her whole life. Sebastian smiled softly before standing, raising his eyebrows to me before freezing as a knock at the door halted us both.

“What, is ityourbirthday now?” He hissed as I rolled my eyes.

Shit, I had forgotten about my take out. I walked around him, still petting my turncoat of a cat, to gather the bag from where it sat on the stoop, allowing the smell of melted cheese and tacos to fill the small space.

“Did you get food?” Quinn asked, perking up slightly. The taller man was standing now, Hannah in his arms while she rubbed her face on his chin, perfectly content in his strong arms.

For a moment, I thought of a barbed word, maybe something about him stealing my food, but the feeling of his fingers on my bruises just moments ago had me swallowing down the words. Eviscerating them.

“Want to share some guacamole?” I asked, slightly timid for some reason, afraid of what he would say. Why did I care what he would say?

A smile broke across his stupid handsome face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

So that’s how Sebastian Quinn and I found ourselves sitting at my small dinette table, a bowl of queso and guacamole between us. I wasgenerous and even split my tacos with him, which he devoured without restraint.

“Don’t double dip, Quinn,” I berated him, my chip dueling with his over the bowl of guacamole.

He made a face as he dug it deeper, breaking my chip in the process. “I’ve had my tongue in your pussy. I think you can handle me double dipping my chip.”

I choked on my bite of hard-shell taco, my eyes watering as he barely contained a laugh at my situation. I just shook my head.

“God, Quinn, I thought someone who was raised like you might have a teensy bit of propriety.”

It was his turn to laugh, shaking his head as he looked around the small apartment, Quinn’s golden eyes mapping the place like he was really studying it for the first time. He looked at the old photos that sat in an obvious need for dusting, along the mantle.

“Did you grow up here?” he asked, pointing his tortilla chip toward a photo of my fifteenth birthday party at the same table we were currently feasting on. I nodded, smiling softly at the memory the photo invoked.

“Yeah, I moved here just before high school with my grandfather and grandmother,” I reminisced fondly, taking a sip of my drink. Quinn was silent, regarding me like he wanted me to continue. “My dad wasn’t a fit parent, and that’s putting it mildly. My mother died of cancer just after I turned thirteen, and it just went downhill from there. My grandmother insisted on seeing her son, but it took a while for them to travel to Long Island, and when they saw how I was living…Well, let’s just say my dad didn’t exactly put up a fight about letting me live with them.” More like shoved me out the door and into their car.

Quinn chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully before murmuring, “My mom died too. Car accident. Not long after we moved back here.” He swallowed hard as his eyebrows did that crinkle that appeared when he was deep in thought.

There was a comfortable silence, Hannah still purring on his lapwhile covertly trying to nibble some dropped pieces of shredded cheese from the table.

“How did you end up at Perrington? It’s very…” Quinn looked uncomfortable as he was trying to find the word.

“Rich?” I offered with a knowing smile, shaking my head. “My grandparents took months filling out paperwork, making sure I had the right uniform. So when I got in, I made it my goal to make it up to them. To prove to them that I was worthy of that time and money.”

Something crossed Quinn’s face, almost like sympathy for a moment but then more like recognition. As if he saw something in me that was familiar to him.

“I know you told me about your grandmother, but what about your grandfather?” Quinn asked, watching my face as though nervous it would be the wrong thing to say.

“My grandfather passed away a few years back. That’s when we got Hannah.” I gestured to the cat still sitting in his lap, watching him take each bite with interest. “I can tell you’re not exactly close with your grandfather.”

He nodded sympathetically, allowing Hannah a small piece of cheese as he scratched her head. “My grandfather reminds me every chance he gets that I need to repay his time and involvement. To him, children and grandchildren are not unlike the investment market. His daughter was a failure to him, but his grandchildren would make up for it tenfold.”

I leaned forward on the table, all traces of appetite gone. “Doesn’t sound like a great guy.”

He shrugged, scratching Hannah’s furry head thoughtfully. “He’s not.”

Silence fell once again until I huffed out a tight laugh, needing to break the tension in the air that came from sharing our shared childhood traumas. “We’re kind of fucked up, aren’t we?”

A surprised chuckle left Quinn’s mouth as he nodded. “Maybe that’s why we get along so well. You know, trauma bond or whatever.”

I smiled, shaking my head at his remark and chewing on the last piece of broken taco shell, which I’d slathered with queso dip.

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