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Page 19 of Summer Nights and Fireflies

An hour in, I'm working on my second glass and enjoying that warm buzz. The kind that makes everything funnier and smooths over any tension between Quentin and me. Especially as he leans in, his green eyes catching the candlelight.

"Hard to believe we're actually doing this."

Raising my glass, I play dumb. "Doing what?"

"Following our 'planner experts' advice. Fast-tracking all this pre-wedding hoopla." He rolls his eyes but smiles. "Feels like we've hired a pair of magicians."

"Hey, let's not give them ideas. They might charge us for a magic show." I take a sip. "But seriously, what do you think about the color scheme?"

Quentin leans back, eyeing my phone with the decor photos. The warm earth tones and modern style seem to win him over. "I like it. It's different yet classy. It's not like we had strong color preferences anyway."

I nod, relieved. Planning this party felt like navigating a minefield.

"But honestly," Quentin adds, "we could've just stuck with my first idea."

I raise an eyebrow. "Which was?"

"A beach bonfire with a keg and some burgers. Easy, cheap, and fun."

"And totally cliché."

He shrugs. "Clichés work for a reason. People love them."

"I'm glad we aimed higher than a cliché engagement party. This will be unforgettable."

Quentin toasts to that. "To a night we'll always remember." Glasses clink. "Now we just need to finalize things with the DJ." He grimaces with his next sip. "And let's not have a repeat of the Dr. Dre marathon."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play innocent. If I can't show off my breakdancing, you're not turning the floor into a 90s hip-hop scene."

"Those are classics, not just my favorites."

Quentin's look has me admitting, "Fine, maybe I'm a bit obsessed with 90s West Coast hip-hop. But hey, I'm from Oakland. And who doesn't love a good throwback?"

"Sanchez, you know 'California Love' by heart. I've seen your Roger Rabbit move, which is definitely older than we are."

"Okay, guilty. Maybe we'll throw in some current hits too."

"So, something from this century?"

I can't help but tease back. "For that comment, I'm requesting Biggie."

"Trying to reignite the East Coast-West Coast feud? This is a peaceful celebration."

Our laughter fills the space, easing any lingering tension. Quentin, in his flawless suit, looks every inch the successful executive, but there's a playfulness in his eyes I only get to see when we're alone like this.

No clients, authors, or coworkers around. Just us.

I place my glass down. "Looks like we're all set."

Quentin's gaze is gentle. "Yeah, we are."

"Great. Should we get the check?"

He blinks once, then he's back to his usual self. "Sure." He signals the waiter. We finish our drinks, hashing out the last details for the party. Before we leave, he orders pork chops to go. Once they arrive, he wraps them in a cloth napkin, tying it with a neat bow. I can't help but stare.

"What are you doing?"


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