The text itself was emotionless, but through the words, Connor Quinn could picture Moira Sloan’s typically spoiled and entitled deanor.
A willful and unreasonable girl.
If you weren’t constantly pampering her and putting her on a pedestal, she’d leave in a heartbeat.
Connor Quinn: I’m in Atheria. With a client.
Moira Sloan: Oh.
That single "Oh" was jarring. Clenching the cigarette in his hand between his teeth again, Connor typed: "Ho by nine tonight. Can you wait?"
Moira Sloan: I can.
When Connor Quinn arrived ho that night, Moira Sloan was sprawled on the sofa playing a ga, positioned almost completely upside down.
Her upper body was lying on the sofa, her two long, toned legs propped up against the backrest, and her head was hanging off the edge. When she saw him, she gave him a doleful look.
"Hungry."
Connor Quinn looked back at her, his voice low as he replied, "Twenty minutes."
When Connor Quinn said twenty minutes, he ant twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes later, Connor Quinn set the food on the table, then walked over to the sofa and scooped Moira Sloan up.
Moira had been playing gas for too long. She’d found a tutorial online that claid to fix forward head posture, but it proved to be not only ineffective but also extrely bad for her cervical spine.
As she was scooped up, Moira Sloan instinctively wrapped her arms around Connor Quinn’s neck. "Getting more tattoos?"
Connor Quinn’s voice was low and deep. "Yeah."
Moira Sloan asked teasingly, "How much did it pay?"
Connor Quinn plucked a number out of thin air. "Five thousand."
Moira Sloan pouted. "You went all that way for five thousand."
"Five thousand is two months of living expenses for and Jade Quinn," Connor Quinn said, his tone matter-of-fact.
Connor Quinn’s tone was perfectly level, but his words made Moira Sloan’s chest tighten. She quickly changed the subject. "I’ve had tis like that, too. I had it worse, actually. Five thousand was my budget for a whole year’s living expenses."
Connor Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"
Moira Sloan suddenly smiled. "What, you thought I was so delicate, pampered princess who’s never had to do a day’s work in her life?"
Connor Quinn didn’t say anything, his expression noncommittal.
Moira Sloan had never told Connor Quinn about her past. Today, for the first ti, she sat at the dining table and began to share her story as they ate.
"I grew up with my grandmother. She might seem tough, but she’s actually a complete coward. The mont she saw my aunt, she was like a mouse cornered by a cat."
"She adored , loved with all her heart, but she never dared to show it. She only dared to secretly tell she loved at night."
"I got it. After all, she couldn’t make life impossible for my uncle just for my sake."
After she spoke, Moira Sloan looked up at Connor Quinn. "I bet you’re wondering how soone who grew up like that could be so entitled, right?"
Connor Quinn said nothing, simply eting her gaze and waiting for her to continue.
Moira Sloan gave a soft laugh. "Because I love myself very much."
Moira Sloan finished with a charming smile. "Sounds selfish, doesn’t it?"
Connor Quinn replied, "No."
Moira Sloan picked up a piece of spicy diced chicken with her chopsticks. "I am, in fact, a very selfish person. I just want to love myself. I’m not interested in so grand, righteous kind of love. I’ve lived for thirty years and I haven’t even figured out how to love myself properly, so I don’t want to waste brainpower trying to figure out how to love soone else first."
After she finished, Moira Sloan took a sip of the juice in front of her and said teasingly, "When I get to the point where I want to get married, I’ll just pick soone I click with. Whoever loves , I’ll love them."
"Can I be a candidate?" Connor Quinn asked.
"You can’t," Moira Sloan said bluntly.
Connor Quinn’s eyes darkened. "Why?"
"Because you’re too poor," Moira Sloan said, half-joking and half-serious.
After dinner, Connor Quinn cleared the table while Moira Sloan went to the bathroom to wash up.
By the ti she ca out, Connor Quinn had already gone back to his bedroom.
Moira Sloan glanced at the closed door of the spare bedroom, her eyebrow arching slightly.
She thought back to their conversation at the dinner table and pursed her lips.
’This isn’t sothing I can smooth over for him.’
’We don’t have a future together. He needs to accept that reality sooner rather than later.’
Later that night, Moira Sloan was in bed watching a show. Halfway through, a wave of inexplicable irritation washed over her. She flipped over, sat up, and opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand, pulling out an unopened pack of cigarettes.
It was a pack Flora Rhodes had given her when she left Atheria.
Flora Rhodes was a heavy smoker, but Moira only had a couple now and then to unwind.
Co to think of it, she hadn’t smoked in about half a year.
For one, she wasn’t addicted. For another, a small town like this was far too judgntal about won who smoked.
After all, she wasn’t a saint. She hadn’t ascended to so spiritual plane where she could just ignore any and all malicious gossip.
They were Marlboros, the kind with the peach-flavored crush bead. She lit one and took a drag. The taste was decent enough.
As the smoke swirled around her, Moira Sloan narrowed her eyes.
’That damn jerk. He knows there’s no future for us, yet he still has to act like that and get under my skin.’
A short while later, after finishing the cigarette, Moira Sloan picked up her phone, opened her ssaging app, and sent a text to Connor Quinn: "Who are you pouting at? Hm?"
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