Page 23 of A Man for the Holidays

“Paige, he could have burnt the entire place down, or worse, been killed.”

“The poor guy is so confused and hurt; you know that it was only an accident. Why can’t you just forgive, forget, and move on? He said he was sorry, right?”

Maybe I overreacted, and yeah, perhaps I said several hurtful and harsh things to the guy, but I was angry. I still am. I’ve worked so hard for this apartment since my parents moved to Australia and having Paige here to help me with the mortgage and bills has been a huge weight off my shoulders. But after last night, I guess I totally lost it at the prospect of losing this place. The insurance company were here early this morning, and they assured me that although the damage to the kitchen was extensive, it can be repaired, and my deductible would cover all the costs.

“Yeah, he did. And okay, maybe I was a little too hard on him.”

“A little?” she asks.

“Don’t push it,” I warn.

“Where is Quinn anyway?” she asks.

“I have no idea. I’ve been awake since six and haven’t seen or heard from him. Perhaps he went for a walk.”

“Hey, you know what a really good idea would be?” Paige asks.

“What?”

“If you ask Quinn to be your date for the Christmas party.”

I snap my head in her direction and glare at her. “What? You and I always go to the work Christmas party together every year.”

“Exactly, which is why I think you should take Quinn this year, instead of me.”

“Paige, you know what will happen if I do that. Everyone will start asking questions and get the wrong idea.”

“Oh, yeah, like you actually give a shit what people think,” she replies.

“You’re a bitch,” I say.

“Yeah, and you’re in serious denial. Admit it, Spencer; you like the guy.”

“I’m not going to get into this with you again, Paige. Anyway, I have to go to work. If you find Quinn, can you please tell him that I’ll call him later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies.

I pour myself a quick coffee, then make my way toward the foyer and see that Quinn’s bedroom door is closed. The guy must have had a rough night, maybe I should go in there and apologize. I place my coffee down on one of the small tables in the foyer, then slowly walk to the bedroom door and knock quietly.

“Quinn? Are you awake?”

There’s no reply, so I lean against the door and knock again, “Quinn?”

He still doesn’t answer me, so I slowly and cautiously open the door, then poke my head inside and scan the room. I notice him lying on the bed, and immediately have to wonder if something is wrong as he would normally be awake by now. As slight panic washes over me, I quietly enter the room and sit down on the edge of the bed, then quietly shake him.

“Quinn? Quinn are you okay?”

A soft murmur escapes his lips, and he rolls over so that he’s lying flat on his back. He blinks several times, wipes his eyes with the back of his wrist then opens his eyes to look at me.

“Hi, Spencer,” he says, sleepily.

“Are you all right?”

He carefully slides up, then rests his back against the wall and as the duvet slides down his chest, my eyes narrow in on his torso.

“I guess I must have been really tired after last night. I’m not used to sleeping so much.”

“Quinn, about last night, I’m so sorry. I overreacted. I didn’t mean everything I said.”

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