Page 86 of A Newport Christmess

“Nikki won’t even be there. She’s going to be at Rosecliff with Irene. And I’ll let one of the guys take my truck so they don’t have to hire a car.”

“You should go with everyone else. You don’t even like decorating.”

Why was I getting the feeling she didn’t want me to come along? Was she upset about not being able to go yesterday? Or could it have been what Tyler had shared with her about Eliza? Had she found the video yesterday and watched it? My stomach twisted. I should have explained the whole situation before it was blurted out by a partially intoxicated man, but knowing that the video was still up on Eliza’s feed—even as deeply buried as it now was—I couldn’t bear the thought of Quinn seeing it, of Quinn believing any of the things Eliza had said about me.

“Despite what you seem to think,” I said. “I’m not going for the decorating.”

She didn’t respond but returned her gaze to the gingerbread.

Tyler stood, avoiding my gaze. “I’m going to go grab my things from downstairs.” Apparently, the awkwardness of the situation was getting uncomfortable.

Vince followed him to the door. “I’ll come with you.”

When the door closed behind them, Quinn went rigid in her chair.

Taking the chair Tyler had just vacated, I looked over at her. “Is it time for another one of those adult conversations? Because I’m getting the vibe that something’s bothering you.”

Her eyes were full of uncertainty when they met mine, and for a split second, I was certain she had seen Eliza’s post. “Doesn’t it get exhausting, always having to ask me what’s wrong?”

I quirked my head to the side, not expecting that question. “No. I guess I don’t feel like I’m always asking you that.”

“But you do. Constantly. And it’s not your fault. I’m just—”

The door opened, stopping her revelation. Tyler poked his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but the driver’s here. Should I send him up, or do you two need a few more minutes?”

Quinn bounded to her feet, obviously eager for the interruption. “Yes. That’s fine. Thanks, Tyler.”

He kept the door propped open and gestured to the driver, who must have been standing at the bottom of the stairwell. A few seconds later, a man in his early fifties stepped through, his gaze falling on Quinn. “I’m here for the centerpieces.”

“Hello. I’m Quinn,” she said, sending him one of her contagious smiles.

Instantly, he brightened. “Wally. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Thanks for doing this. There’s one.” Quinn gestured to the table. “And the other three are upstairs.”

He glanced toward Rosecliff. “Oh, wow. That’s bigger than I expected. I might need some help to get them in the van if anyone’s available.”

“I can help,” Tyler responded before I even had a chance to offer. “And I’m sure Vince would be willing.”

“I can as well,” I said, feeling like quite the dunce, still sitting at the table by myself. I stood.

“Great.” The man pointed. “Let’s start with this one.”

In less than fifteen minutes, we had all four gingerbread houses safely stowed in the large van and were following behind Wally on our way to Rosecliff—Quinn in the front seat of my truck, and Tyler and Vince in the back.

“Thanks again for coming, guys.” Quinn sent a sweet smile over her shoulder.

“It’s the least we could do,” Vince said.

Quinn glanced at him over her shoulder. “After this, promise never to feel bad about what happened again. It was an accident. And it turned out alright.”

“An accident that prevented you from coming out with us yesterday,” Vince said, blowing out a breath.

Tyler nodded. “It didn’t help our guilty consciences with Landon as a visual reminder of our stupidity. He moped around all day.”

I glanced at his smirk in the rearview mirror. “All things considered, I thought I did a pretty good job staying positive.”

Tyler leaned forward in his seat until he was directly behind Quinn. “It was pathetically obvious how much he wished you were there,” he whispered.