Chapter 37
Quinn
One month later.
I know I shouldn’t laugh. The mother of my unborn child is horrified and mildly pissed off. Okay, she’s very pissed off, I think, but honestly, it’s hard to tell lately because everything I do either pisses her off, makes her cry, or turns her on like crazy.
Call me shameless, but I’ve been using the latter to my advantage over the last few weeks. Pregnant Cassie is insatiable and also really hot . Her boobs were already amazing, but with the added bonus of pregnancy hormones, they’re currently out of this world, and I’m constantly fighting the urge to get my hands on them.
“I’m sorry, but the look on your face right now is fucking priceless. ”
“Quinn!” she exclaims loudly. “It’s demonic, get it away from me.”
I glance at what was once my childhood teddy bear, but somehow, after years of storage in a box buried under my bed, it now resembles something straight out of a Tarantino film.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, knowing full well what’s wrong.
“Our baby is not playing with… that .”
Turning the bear over in my hands, I choke back more laughter when I notice the huge patch of fur missing on its backside. Yep, I used to pluck my teddy bear’s ass hair out and tickle my nose with it. Not exactly something I need the world knowing about, but what can you do?
One eye is now a blood-red button that replaced the original black button decades ago. The other eye is gone altogether.
“Don’t be so disrespectful,” I feign offense. “I’ll have you know the Duke of Edinburgh got me through some scary nights.”
“You named your bear after the queen’s husband?”
I shrug. “My mom’s a royalist, what can I say?” Tossing the bear back into the box, I head for the kitchen. “You hungry? I can make us something to eat.”
“Always. And, yes please.”
Cassie follows me down the stairs, taking a seat on the stool in the kitchen while I rummage around in the refrigerator for the ingredients to make us an omelet.
“Babies need a lot of stuff, Quinn. They don’t need whatever the hell that was…” She points behind her, blinking slowly. “But we’ll need a crib and a changing table. A bath, a seat for the car, and somewhere to keep all the cute li ttle clothes. And we need pacifiers and bottles and baby blankets and…”
“Hey, hey calm down. It’s okay, we’ll go shopping for the big stuff as soon as you’ve decided what you want. Anything else you can just order online. You’ve got my credit card details. I told you I want you to use it.”
Cassie sighs. “I’m not using your credit card, Quinn. I’ve told you that a hundred times already.”
I level her with a look that defies reason, and it shuts her up instantly. Thankfully she doesn’t push me on the subject, and for now that’s about all I can ask of her.
We’ve settled into a nice routine the past month, in which she doesn’t ask me for anything, and I pretend like she isn’t trying to do this on her own.
I’m not going to let her do this on her own.
No fucking way.
Expecting me not to pay for my own kid and be there every step of the way is like asking the moon not to fill the night sky. It’s just not going to happen. The sooner Cassie gets used to the idea that she doesn’t have to do this on her own, the better off we’ll both be.
I guess when you’ve been as independent as Cassie has, for as long as she has, it’s a hard habit to shake.
Yeah, well, tough fucking luck. She’s just going to have to try a little harder.
After lunch, Cassie flops down on the couch, yawning widely. “That was so good, the best omelet I’ve ever had.”
“You just say that so I’ll keep making them for you.”
She grins, looking tired but gorgeous as her eyes flutter shut. Cassie is so tired all the time. I don’t know how she’s managing to attend all her classes, get her paper written, finish all her reading, and work two jobs, as well as have her body act like a human incubator.
I can literally see it all sucking the life out of her.
It’s evidence of her determination, though, and I can’t criticize a person for that. I do, however, wish she’d let me do more to make her life easier, like tell Leon where he can shove his stupid waitressing position. As for getting up at four thirty every morning to deliver newspapers, yeah, fuck that, too.
But it’s a touchy subject, so for now, I let it slide.
Absentmindedly, Cassie circles her hand over her small stomach that has popped out over the last week. It’s only a bump at best, but it’s enough that her sweater stretches across it tightly, and Jesus, that can’t be comfortable.
“Take your sweater off, Cass.”
One eye pops open.
This makes me laugh softly. Now I’ve got her attention. She’s such a little nympho lately. She can’t seem to get enough of me, and while I’m definitely not complaining, right now, all I want to do is make her comfortable so she can get a little rest.
Grabbing the back of my own T-shirt, I pull it over my head and toss it over to her. “Here, put this on. I know you’ve been lusting after it for a while now. It’s all yours, pretty girl.”
Her unfocused gaze zeros in on my face. “I…I can keep it? ”
“Sure, it’ll probably look better on you than it does on me, anyway.”
“Don’t tease me, Quinn. This is your favorite Kinks T-shirt. If you think I’m giving this shirt back to you, you’re dreaming.”
“I wouldn’t risk my life for a lousy T-shirt, Alabama.”
She snickers, sitting up quickly to strip her sweater off.
Through waves of long auburn hair, I catch a glimpse of a black bra, but it’s gone too soon because she tosses her sweater on the floor, then slips the crazy soft material of my T-shirt over her head.
A sound that closely resembles a moan slips through her lips, and I know she’s really into my shirt right now because not once has the fact that I’m standing in front of her in nothing but low-slung jeans and bare feet even been mentioned.
“Feel better?”
Her eyes close again, effortlessly. “So much better.”
“I’m heading out soon. We’re rehearsing at the warehouse today. And it’s Kael’s first week back out of rehab. Never thought I’d say it, but I’ve actually missed the guy.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“The execs from the studio have called us in for a meeting before we start rehearsal, so I’ve got to go in a little earlier than I thought. You can hang out here if you want. Take a nap, watch television. Whatever you want.”
Cassie shakes her head, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch. “Thank you, but no. I really do need to get home.” She stands to her feet, stretching out her back with her arms up above her head. “I want to spend a few hours working on my paper, and then I’ve got a shift at the bar.” A hand comes at my face, stopping me before I can say a word. “I like my job, Quinn. Leave it alone.”
I really have to get going, so I do leave it alone. For now. And instead ask, “Are you close to finishing your paper?”
“Yes, almost .” Her exaggerated sigh, and the deep sag of her shoulders make me smile despite myself. “I just want to put some finishing touches on the conclusion, and then read through the entire thing one final time, and then I’m done. Woo-hoo!”
“Nice work, little momma.”
Her head jerks back, and she looks at me like she’s not sure what to make of my last comment.
Snickering, I grab her handbag and her backpack from the back of the chair, drawing her toward the front door by the hand.
“Get over yourself, Alabama. It’s happening whether you like it or not. Now move that sweet ass of yours because if I’m late for this rehearsal, Nick’s gonna fucking kill me.”