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What I wasn’t expectingfor this evenings plan was to be meeting Quinn’s parents. He sprung it on me once we got off of the train and as we were walking to his place. I turned right around and headed home to grab something else to wear while telling Quinn to go home and then pick me up from my place.
I frantically search my closet and grilled Quinn over the speaker phone to figure out what to wear and where we’re going. With knowing that they are well off, I’m pretty sure that we’re not going to dine at a simple diner.
Quinn shows up to my apartment thirty minutes later with a bouquet of flowers and a handsome smile.
He kisses me on the cheek then looks me up and down with a grin on his face. He tells me that I’m beautiful. My hand is shaking as I try to unwrap the flowers. Moments later, we’re sitting in his car and driving back to downtown Los Angeles.
“Relax, if my parents are cold to you, I just want you to remember that they don’t really like me much either. Also just ignore everything they say.” Quinn’s hand settles on my thigh.
“Are you telling me that they’re not going to like me?” I start to feel a little freaked out as he laughs.
“No, but I’m just warning you that they are sometimes, okay most of the time, impossible to please, that even their own son can’t please them.”
“I guess that makes me feel a little bit better.”
The car pulls up to a white building and the valet opens my door, reaches a hand inside and helps me out of the passenger seat.
A moment later, Quinn pulls me to his side, kisses my temple and looks at me. “Let’s get this night over, shall we?”
“We shall.” I nod.
The double doors open to a dimly lit large room with the sounds of silverware clinking and low chatter from tables across the space. I look down and the simple maxi dress that I’m wearing, feeling incredibly underdressed. Glancing down at my dress and while my thoughts are criticizing my attire, Quinn squeezes my hand in reassurance.
We walk into the restaurant and are shown to our table.
“Mother, father. I would like to introduce to you, my partner, Sidney Matthews.”
The look of shock reverberates on their faces as they stay seated and look between us.
“Quinlan, who’s this, what’s this about?” His father asks.
“I thought this was a celebration dinner for you and Amelia.” His mother states looking between us.
My body stiffens as Quinn’s grip on my hand tightens. From the peripheral, I see his features harden and the rapid pulse of his carotid artery.
Amelia?
Who is Amelia?
