(Quinn's perspective)
I'm halfway down the street when Trinity's voice rattles in my head like an airhorn.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" she snaps, sharp as a whip crack.
"Away from him," I mutter under my breath, my eyes locked on the pavement ahead of me. Each step is harder than it should be, my heart thudding loud enough I'm sure the whole street can hear it.
"You're acting like a child," Trinity fires back. "Get your stubborn butt back in there."
"Nope." I shove my hands into my pockets, picking up my pace. "Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."
"He's sitting there all alone, looking like a kicked puppy, and you're just walking away? Real mature, Quinn."
"He's not a puppy, he's a wolf, and he's perfectly fine being alone," I shoot back, my voice low but fierce. "Besides, he's the one who—"
"Yeah, yeah," Trinity interrupts, her tone mocking. "He's the worst, he's insufferable, he's an egotistical jerk, blah blah blah. I've heard it all before. Funny how you're still thinking about him, though."
"I'm not thinking about him," I hiss, even though I'm definitely thinking about him.
"Sure, sure. That's why you're still talking to me about him instead of getting in the car and leaving like you're oh-so-determined to do."
I stop walking and glare at nothing in particular. "You're the most annoying voice in my head, you know that?"
"I'm the only voice in your head that's right," she says smugly.
With an eye-roll so big I'm surprised I don't get whiplash, I stomp the rest of the way to Derek's car. The sleek black sedan is parked at the curb, engine humming softly. I yank the door open, slide into the backseat, and slam it shut behind me.
Derek's eyes meet mine through the rearview mirror, one brow raised like he's silently judging me. He doesn't say a word—he's too professional for that—but I see it. I'd judge me too.
"Drive," I mutter, leaning back against the seat.
"Back to the house, miss?" he asks, his voice all polite and proper.
"Yes. No. I don't know." I press my palms against my face, dragging them down slowly. "Just… just drive."
Derek's gaze flicks back to the road, but I'm sure he's biting back a comment. Smart man.
"Still think this is a great idea?" Trinity's voice rings out again. "Running away like he's the big bad wolf and you're Little Red Riding Hood?"
"I'm not running away," I say through gritted teeth. "I'm… relocating."
"Relocating," she repeats, and I can practically hear her slow clap. "Sure, Quinn. Whatever you need to tell yourself."
"Shut up, Trinity."
I tilt my head back and close my eyes, trying to drown her out. But then, because I'm apparently a glutton for punishment, I glance out the window.
And there he is.
Luca's still sitting at that table, one arm draped casually over the back of his chair, fingers tapping against it like he's got all the time in the world. He's not looking at his phone, not scrolling, not doing anything but sitting there, sipping his stupid coffee like he's the king of patience.
Something sharp twists in my chest. I hate that I'm the one who's walking away. I hate that he's still there, calm as ever, like none of this is bothering him.
"Look at him," Trinity says, her voice soft but insistent. "He's waiting for you, dummy."
"He's waiting for his coffee to cool, not me," I grumble, but I'm already reaching for the button on the console. The divider window between me and Derek rolls down with a soft hum.
"Change of plans," I say, leaning forward. "I'm going back in."
Derek's eyes flick to mine in the mirror, one brow raised again like he's thinking, Really? But he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut. He pulls the car to the curb, and I'm already out before it's fully stopped.
"Good girl," Trinity teases. "Now don't trip on your way in. Wouldn't want Luca to think you're clumsy too."
"Shut. Up," I mutter, head down, walking as fast as I can without making it look like I'm running. The bell on the door jingles as I step inside, and for a second, I'm hit with a wave of warm air and the smell of roasted coffee.
Luca's eyes are already on me. The moment I walk in, he's turning in his chair, a slow grin curling up the side of his face. Smug. So damn smug.
"Knew you couldn't stay away," he says, taking a lazy sip of his coffee like he's got all the time in the world.
I walk over, every step deliberate, and drop back into my chair. Slowly. Carefully. My heart's going wild, but I'm not about to let him see that.
"Don't read too much into it," I say, flipping my hair over my shoulder. "I just figured I'd save you from embarrassing yourself."
His grin widens. "Yeah, sure. That's why you're here."
"I'm here," I say, lifting my chin, "so we can get through this without murdering each other. That's all."
"Fine by me." He leans forward, eyes locked on mine. "But let's drop the fake nice act, yeah? No more 'please' and 'thank yous' or nasty looks. No more pretending we're enemies planning some dream wedding." He raises a brow. "Deal?"
My lips twitch despite myself. "Deal."
"Good," he says, leaning back like he's won something.
But I'm not about to let him have the last word.
"Oh, and Luca?" I tilt my head, smile just as sweet as can be. "Don't mistake my patience for weakness."
His grin falters. Just for a second. And then he narrows his eyes and me and smiles widely.
"You're anything but weak sweetheart. I can smell how powerful you are from a mile away," he replies with the smuggest grin that annoys me. "Before we dig into all this wedding crap, how about telling me where the fuck you've been for five years."
Checkmate.