Chapter 32
Cassie
E ase into it.
Take your time.
No need to rush things.
Niiiiice and slow.
The elevator door pings, slides open, and I step out into the swanky hallway. Plush carpet hushes my steps. Like he senses my arrival, Quinn’s front door suddenly opens, and he greets me with a sexy half-smile and hair that looks kind of shaggy and wild.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out.
Yes, that’s the way I choose to tell the father of my unborn child that we are expecting a little bundle of joy in, oh, approximately seven months if my calculations are correct.
A pause. “What?”
“I’m pregnant, Quinn.”
The hallway remains silent. Eerily so. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me, and the tight grip I already have on the straps of my backpack suddenly intensifies.
Quinn remains in the doorway, breathing hard. White noise could not have been more deafening.
He’d looked calm enough prior to my big announcement. Now he looks every bit as apprehensive as I was when I first found out. More so, if that’s at all possible.
In fairness, I have had a couple of hours head start on the whole trying to wrap my head around things. Quinn has only just now left the starting blocks, and he’s lagging a little behind. Poor guy. He’s got some serious catching up to do.
I guess I’ll just wait for him. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll just stand here, in the hallway, and I’ll wait for him. And then everything will be fine. Then we can talk about it. Then we can figure out how we’re going to get through this. We can figure it out together.
A sick feeling curdles in my stomach. And it’s one that has nothing to do with the growing contents of my uterus, but instead everything to do with the color of Quinn’s sweaty face.
Sallow, is that even a color?
He blinks. “You’re…you, uh, what’d you just say?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Shit,” he hisses between tightly gritted teeth. Then his fingers begin an assault on his hair like somehow it’s done him wrong over the years, and he’s only now seeking revenge.
Gripping the ends of his hair tightly, he looks up at the ceiling for a really long time, muttering things under his breath that I can’t quite make out. I track the motion of his hand. His hair is always so soft to touch, and I really want to reach across and run my fingers through it, but I’m scared if I touch him right now he’ll completely fall apart.
“Are you alright?” I ask softly.
He nods, but I don’t quite believe him.
Standing back, he ushers me inside his apartment. When he closes the door, I head straight for the living room, needing to sit down on the couch.
Quinn sits down beside me, but he leaves enough space between us that we’re not touching in any way. His elbows rest on his knees, and he hangs his head.
“Are you sure?” he asks, exhaling with so much force there can’t possibly be an ounce of oxygen left in his entire body.
Reaching into my purse, I hand him the pregnancy test. “I took three more after this one.”
Quinn stares at the thin plastic stick like he’s trying to figure out a complicated mathematical equation. “And two lines, means…?”
“Yep.”
No point sugar coating things. It is what it is.
“I’m pregnant, Quinn.”
“Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Tell me about it.”
He turns his head slowly until his eyes meet mine. “But we’ve always been careful,” he says, his tone faraway as if he’s trying to run things through his mind. “Haven’t we?”
“Except that last night in Miami.”
He stares at me with a dumbfounded expression. “Jesus Christ, Cassie…” He grimaces. “I was only inside you for, like, two seconds. ”
“Apparently your sperm are speedy.”
“Fuck,” he groans. His gaze skips back to the pregnancy test in his hand, staring down at it for a really long time.
I wonder if he’s trying to manipulate the test like it’s a crystal ball, attempting to use it to see into the future.
“I’m having the baby,” I say quickly, just in case he’s imagining a different scenario altogether to the one I have set in my mind.
“I see.” He sets one ankle on the opposite knee, his bare foot persistently jiggling. He takes a deep breath, exhales sluggishly. And then he repeats the process. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling right now.” Rubbing his fingers through his beard, back and forth, back and forth, something in his expression shifts, and he eyes me inquisitively. “How do you feel?”
I gulp through the thick lump in my throat. “I’m…I’m scared.”
“I bet you are.”
“Having a baby wasn’t in my grand plan, you know that.” Staring down at my boots, I suddenly feel self-conscious with how intently he’s studying me. It’s like he’s trying to gauge my reaction, possibly as a way of modeling his own. “I guess plans change.”
“Are you sure you want to go through with the pregnancy?” His voice is somber, the deep tone hoarse. I look up to find his eyes filled with an emotion I don’t have a name for. “Maybe you should take some time to think about it. When did you find out anyway?”
“This afternoon. And no, I don’t need more time to think about it. I’ve already made up my mind. Not going through with this pregnancy isn’t an option for me. ”
He says nothing. Just nods. Not cluing me in to what’s going on inside his head. Not cluing me in to shit.
I tuck a protective hand over my still-flat stomach. If I have to do this on my own, I will. I’m strong, and I’m brave. I can do this with or without him.
Okay, enough of this. Time to get real.
Quinn and I haven’t been seeing each other all that long. I love being with him—it’s so effortless, so easy when we’re with each other. When I’m not with him, he’s all I think about. He’s the first thing I think about in the morning, and he’s the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. He’s become everything to me, and yes, I might occasionally sniff his clothes while he’s in the shower. But does that mean we’re destined to be together forever? Who the hell knows?
Time to pull up my big-girl pants and let him off the hook.
“You’re busy, Quinn. I get that. Neither of us planned for this to happen. I don’t expect you to be on board with my decision. You said you didn’t want kids. You made yourself very clear. We should have been more careful.” I sneak a quick glance in his direction. The expression on his face is one of great complexity. Forge on, Cassie, forge on. “But I’m going to have this baby. The decision has already been made. You can be as involved as you want. Your support would be nice, but honestly, I’ve been thinking about it, and I can do this on my own, if…if, uh, that’s…why are you looking at me like that?”
Quinn rubs at the skin between his eyes. I guess this conversation is enough to give anyone a headache. He looks like he’s in real pain, though, and I think maybe I should just stop talking altogether when he suddenly stands to his feet. He wobbles slightly, catching himself on the back of the couch.
“Perfect fucking timing,” he grumbles, his head tilted strangely to one side.
I’m not sure he’s talking about the same thing anymore.
But then his gaze lands on my face, and I get the impression it’s taking some colossal effort on his part not to reveal his true emotions. His expression catches me off guard. Deep intensity and a flash of annoyance, but the latter seems to be directed at himself more than it is at me.
A muscle in his jaw jumps. “You honestly think I’d let you do this alone?”
“I don’t know what to think. This isn’t a situation I’ve ever been in before. I don’t want to put any pressure on you.”
“Are you kidding me?” His expression softens, but only slightly. “I’m the one person you should be putting pressure on. What the fuck, Cassie?”
“What the fuck what, Quinn?”
“You are not doing this alone. Not a chance in hell are you doing this alone. How could you ever think I’d let that happen?”
“Quinn, I—”
“I have money.”
“I don’t need your money.”
“And I own this place outright. I can make sure you’re looked after. The both of you. You won’t want for anything, and…” He starts pacing back and forth in front of me. “I don’t know what else to say right now. Just…please, just give me some time to get my head around things. I need to crunch things over, work out a plan on how to move forw ard. Just give me some time to think. Can you do that for me?”
“Okay.”
Quinn stalks over into the kitchen, clutching the edge of the island with both hands. He doesn’t say anything else for a really long time. It’s all very business-like, and I’d even go as far as saying a little cold.
Maybe this is how Quinn processes big emotions?
Sometimes he can be so hard to read, but right now he’s not just hard to read. He’s impossible to read because he’s a closed book.
The words I’ve been so desperate to tell him lately, and the words I have wanted to hear from him so badly, push forward, begging to be released. But I swallow them down again because I can’t say them now. It’s not the right time, and it won’t mean as much.
Quinn looks over his shoulder at me, his eyes are twitchy, moving side to side, and then his chin tilts heavily toward the front door.
“Oh, you mean like, right now?”
“If you don’t mind.”
I jump to my feet, not sure what to do first. My movements are clumsy as I pick up my backpack from the floor, and move toward him. I don’t know whether to kiss him goodbye, but Quinn doesn’t budge, so I guess there’s my answer right there.
“We’ll talk later, yeah?” I ask.
He nods, but barely.
“I’ll, uh…I guess I’ll just let myself out then.”
Nothing from him .
How soul-destroying this day has turned out. Pregnant, and no Chinese takeout. Devastating, really.
When I reach the door, I twist the handle, pausing momentarily to peer back over my shoulder. But when I do, Quinn isn’t there. I don’t see him anywhere. He’s not in the kitchen, nor is he in the living room. Maybe he went upstairs to his bedroom.
Geez. Thanks a lot, Quinn. So much for the whole you won’t be alone spiel, because hello. Not five minutes later, and I’m already alone.
Men. They totally suck. And you know what else sucks?
Sperm.
Because damn you, Quinn, and your high performing, quick out of the chute, goal-kicking sperm.
That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.