But, instead of looking relieved that we’re good, he looks more nervous. He shoves his hands in his pockets and starts to inspect the floors, which are very nice, but not at all interesting. “And I’m sorry for inviting Mrs. Rafter tonight.”

Oh yeah. That.

That was pretty fucked up, but like, in the kindest of ways. And knowing how much he’s coughing up per person for this event, it was really nice of him. But it did upset me and I’ve had a really hard time putting words to my feelings about it.

“It’s okay, she’s really excited to come tonight.” And she is, which is another reason I felt so shitty about my reaction.

“It’s really not okay, though,” he says. “I told you how upset I would be if you went behind my back to talk to my family and then I did the same thing. That wasn’t my place. More than anything, I understand wanting to keep your personal life personal. I should’ve talked to you before I overstepped.”

My mouth falls open, but no words come out.

Because Quinton, of all people, is the only person who seems to understand how I was feeling and put words to it.

And that’s something I can’t even begin to process right now, but I can accept it.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” I hold my hand out toward him, feeling like an understanding has finally been reached between us. Hope and excitement bloom at the difference we can make now that we’re on the same page. “Now, are you ready to have the best launch party ever?”

His strong grip shakes my hand and the sparks that were there the first time we touched come racing back. The warmth from his touch winds around me and my insides go soft. His eyes crease at the corners as a genuine smile lights up his face and for a split second I hope he’s feeling what I am. “I’ve never been more ready for anything.”

“Good.” I drop his hand, not letting my mind go there, making myself remember his words about me not being his type. I open the door and shove him out of it. “Now go home and get ready, I want the finished product to be a surprise.”

Fourteen

Forget anything I’ve ever said about balloons. They are a terrible idea and now I see why parents always seem about two seconds from losing their shit when they’re around.

As the who’s who of Denver start filtering in, filling the Rue with their expertly coiffed hair and thousand-dollar shoes, visions of balloons popping and causing mass hysteria resulting in a stampede flood my mind.

However, for the less paranoid attendees, they seem rather impressed by the decorations and the way the event has turned out.