Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny (Quintessa and Tyrone) novel Chapter 312

The sun crept in, illuminating the chaos within the room. With clothes and shoes strewn about, two figures lay intertwined in the most intimate of embraces on the large bed; their exposed shoulders told tales of the night before without a word.

The summer sun was relentless, blurring the lines between dawn and noon. Today, the sun climbed higher under the clear skies, its rays growing more piercing as the morning wore on. Quintessa shielded her eyes from the light and turned over.

The slightest movement from Quintessa prompted the arm around her waist to tighten, pulling her back in.

Quintessa, with her eyes still closed, nudged the man beside her with her foot. "Get up."

Tyrone hugged Quintessa tighter, nuzzling against her. "Awake so early? Seems like I went easy on you last night."

Tyrone, feeling too comfortable to open his eyes, reveled in the warmth and softness beneath the blankets. This was a far cry from the nights spent doing nothing but sleeping under the covers.

What a waste of so many wonderful nights, he thought.

Quintessa opened her eyes, and said in a cool tone. "Get out."

Tyrone paused, then opened his eyes and pinned Quintessa beneath him. "Come on, Quintessa, you're really gonna play it like that? What did I tell you last night? How could you throw a hamburger at me when I said I didn't want it. Now, you can say what you want, but it won't work, I—"

Quintessa pushed Tyrone's face away. "Stop it, just go get me some medicine."

Tyrone froze. "Medicine?"

Quintessa kicked him again. "Birth control, hurry up!"

Tyrone looked at Quintessa, his mind struggling to catch up.

Quintessa rolled her eyes. "Why the daze so early in the morning?"

Tyrone spun around, shocked to see four familiar faces. Manny was one thing, but the other three, especially at this time and place, were completely unexpected.

"Mom? Wilma? What are you doing here?"

Mrs. York raised a hand. "Hold on, don't start with questions. What in the world is going on here?"

Tyrone stuttered, "I..."

Mrs. York eyed Tyrone, who had his clothes wrinkled and his T-shirt inside out; his hair was a mess as if he'd just rolled out of bed without a care.

Tyrone instinctively reached to close the door, but Mrs. York stopped him. She peeked inside, then looked at Tyrone up and down, making him squirm under her gaze.

Mrs. York, with a look of disdain, said, "Son, did you get played again?"