Page 131 of End It All

“Forget it,” I said. “We can talk about all this more later.”

“Right,” she said, wiping at her eyes. Once more, she cleared her throat, and the teary eyes were mixed with fiery determination. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Where is this Quincy?"

The sound of my bedroom door closing dragged both me and my mother's attention to it. Quincy walked over swiftly. He'd been wearing next to nothing before, now he was dressed in a pair of dark slacks, a button up black shirt, and dark socks. As soon as he got close to my mother, he dropped to his knees in front of her, pressing his head to the floor.

“???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????”Welcome to my home, Ms. Moreno. My name is Quincy. It's nice to meet you. I'm so sorry we didn't tell you ourselves that we were getting married. Please, forgive me.

My mother looked at me, and I shrugged even while my heart squeezed. No, I had no idea what he was saying, but... it was sweet.

I knew Quincy. He was a goofball on a good day and didn't give a fuck about anyone on a bad day, but here he was, bowing in front of my mother.

If I could fall anymore in love with him, I would.

Quincy stood up and repeated it all in English for both of us. My mother looked teary-eyed, like she was going to burst out crying again. Slowly, she reached out her hand, and Quincy bowed until his forehead touched her fingertips.

"It's okay," she said softly. "You raise your kids so that they can make their own decisions in life. Am I sad I missed the wedding? Of course. But, I'm so happy you've been protecting my son."

Quincy straightened up and nodded seriously. "And I always will. I love him. Deeply."

"I can tell," she whispered before she wiped her eyes. "All this time, I kept telling Blake and myself that love was bullshit, but look at you two. I've never seen my son so happy."

"Mom." I laughed before I paused. "Wait, how did you know it was Quincy that was looking after me?"

"Besides the note he left, I made a quick stop at Benito's place before I came. Wanted to make sure everything really was all clear and the cops weren't just fucking with me." She glanced around my apartment. "So, this is where you've been."

I nodded with a smile on my face. Quincy looked nervous, like he was going to be sick, but I grabbed his hand.

"Yeah, I've been here. It's cozy."

"Reminds me of our place back home," she mused.

"Right?"

We both laughed and Quincy looked relieved. He had seen my place, he knew how I had lived. A small apartment was the best my mother could do, and it was what I was comfortable with. Maybe one day we would upgrade, but I hardly saw a reason. Especially when we were always at Benito's place. Or Gin's place. Or Paolo's place. And eventually, Enzo's place. Where they were, was home. And where Quincy was, that was my safe space.

"Let's go out to eat," Mom suggested. "Benito is laundering that money for me and selling the jewelry, so it looks like I'm going to be rolling in it for a while." She smirked. "Can't say I'm mad at being well off."

I laughed. "So your bank robbing son isn't so bad now, huh?"

She slapped me upside the head. "You do that shit again and I'll put you in an early grave." I yelped as she grabbed my ear. "Do you understand me, Blake?"

"Ow, come on, Ma!"

Quincy burst out laughing and we both looked his way. He tried to hide his snickering as I glared at him. Slowly, he shrugged.

"I just figured out where you get your sassiness from." He grinned. "Like mother, like son."

"Don't ever compare me to this degenerate," my mother said, sticking her nose up into the air. "You try so hard to raise boys and what do they do? Crime."

"Which one of us was fucking for money?" I muttered. That earned me another smack as Quincy tsked me. "Fine, both of us," I groaned. "I'm sorry. It was a joke, Mom."

“Really? You too?” Quincy asked.

I shrugged. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

“Looks like we’re going to have a lot of talks,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Wait, what do you mean both of us?” my mother asked, shock written on her face as she interrupted us. “You never told me that.”