Page 120 of Quinton's Quest

“Why don’t I come with you?” I gestured to the door to the living room.

“Awesome.”

Lucia gave me two thumbs-up as I followed Quinton into the chaos that was his living room.

Half the crowd wore green, a few wore either silver or gold, and the rest were just dressed in casual clothes—with several men gathered in the corner wearing plaid. Apparently this had something to do with Adam and Dean’s wedding. All the guests had worn plaid?

See? You’re getting to know people.

Right.

I waved to Justin, who grinned back. He stood next to his husband, Stanley. We’d been introduced earlier. Along with about twenty other people whose names I was unlikely to remember. Perhaps if this had just been an ordinary party, I might’ve put in more of an effort.

Lucia nudged me.

Right.

I moved with determination toward the fireplace. After taking a breath, I stood on the hearth of the gas fireplace.

Immediately, the room quieted.

Quinton, who’d been facing away from me, spun suddenly. His eyes went wide.

I tried to hold back my grin. As well as calm my nerves.

Dean snagged the basket of piggies and nudged Quinton toward me.

See? I could remember a few names.

I extended my hand.

Quinton moved toward me. Eventually he grasped my hand and allowed me to pull him up onto the hearth.

I’d have sworn the room held their breath.

He leaned in. “What are you doing? Because you get this is a thing…right?”

I nodded. Yes. Foster, the older Black gentleman, had proposed to his younger now-husband Arnav on New Year’s Eve. Rayne had attempted to propose to Everett on Valentine’s Day—but Everett had beat him to the punch. Yes, I understood what I was doing. I cleared my throat. “So, I asked you to move in with me.”

Dean, the Aussie, hooted. Along with several other people I didn’t recognize.

“And I agreed.” Quinton’s eyes were still wide. “I’m moving in at the end of the month.”

“Well…this is your last party here.”

“Boo.” Justin’s contribution.

“Plenty to be held at my new digs.” Quinton faced the crowd. “Bit of a drive to the hills. Lovely property. You’ll have a blast.”

“Oh good. We were worried.” Stanley—in possibly the driest tone ever.

I smiled. “I want more.”

“Than parties at your home?”

“Yes.” I nodded slowly.

“Oh.” He nodded as well. “Oh.” If the expression on his face—all wide eyes—was anything to go by, he was finally getting it. Really getting it.