Chapter 41
Cassie
F or the next week and a half, I keep a very low profile. I take as many shifts as I can pick up at Leon’s being that I’m saving all my pennies for rent and baby things. And I attend all my classes at NYU. I’ve cut back delivering newspapers, but that’s only because the majority of my spare time has been spent putting the finishing touches on my paper, and honestly, the pay isn’t even that great.
Turning this paper in, oh god, there are no words to express how happy it will make me.
Sweet, sweet relief.
Sunday night dinner was cancelled, by Nick, no doubt. But he did send me a text message a couple of days later that simply said…
Nick: Give me time. I’ll come around .
I can only assume he broke the news to his parents because a few minutes after Nick’s message appeared, my phone pinged again, and I received a text message from Jeremy’s mother…
Annie: We’re happy for you, Cassie. You know I love you like a daughter. You deserve to smile again, to love again. That’s what Jeremy would have wanted. Promise me you’ll bring the baby around for cuddles.
My chest felt so heavy I thought I was going to collapse. Guilt. Pain. Loss. All of it. But this time it wasn’t my loss I was mourning. It was Annie’s loss because she will always be Jeremy’s mother, and no parent should ever have to live through the loss of their own child.
I didn’t reply to Annie’s message straight away. Or Nick’s message for that matter. Instead, with all due haste, I ducked into the bathroom, and I cried my eyes out for a solid hour on the cold, hard floor.
Because that’s what pregnancy does to you. I’m an emotional mess, if nothing else.
Good times.
I phoned my parents a few hours later to break the news to them.
My mother was silent for a really long time except for the occasional sniffle. My father, on the other hand, he had a lot to say. A whole lot. Very much indeed. And he certainly wasn’t shy in voicing his opinion on the matter. Not that I can blame him, not really. I guess the thought of his little girl getting knocked up by a tattooed rock star wasn’t exactly the dream he’d had for me when he’d brought me home from the hospital.
Eventually, after a whole lot of explaining, and more explaining and reasoning, and guaranteeing him that I was indeed very happy and very much in love with Quinn, and that I wasn’t going to be a college dropout, my father’s temper subsided slightly, and my mother stopped blubbering, and I assured them both that I’d bring Quinn to Alabama for a visit when he got back from Europe, so they could meet him in person.
They agreed.
And then I quickly hung up.
Crisis averted.
Speaking of Quinn…
He eventually sucked it up, and he met with the rest of the band to tell them about our relationship and the baby. He said things actually went really well. Jaxon and Kael were shocked, of course, but following the shock came some serious man-hugging and macho back-slapping.
Quinn told me that the two of them then got into a rather heated debate about godfather duties. It turns out Kael won a spontaneous hand of rock-paper-scissors, and so the decision was made.
God help us all.
I close my laptop at exactly 11:42 a.m. on Monday morning, having just sourced my last textbook in my bibliography.
Done.
My final paper is done .
I’ve just saved the final draft to a USB stick and switched off my laptop for the final time.
With an exaggerated sigh, my shoulders slump, and I just sit there on my couch for a few moments, marinating at the enormity of what I’ve just achieved. I’ve been working on this paper for over six months now, and it’s finally done.
I still can’t quite believe it.
Closing my eyes, I rub my temples and take a deep breath, wondering if this is what it feels like to climb to the top of Mt. Everest. It’s kind of the same thing, right? I mean of course, if Mt. Everest was a whole lot smaller and didn’t require an insane fitness level or, you know, Sherpas.
So, nothing like Mt. Everest really.
But that’s totally not the point.
I refuse to let anything affect my buzz right now. Shoving the USB stick safely into a pocket in my handbag, I grab my sunglasses and some loose change from the kitchen counter, then head for the front door.
I want to get to the library to print my paper off before meeting Quinn for lunch.
Quinn.
My heart rate picks up just thinking about him, as does the warming tingle between my legs that I’ve begun to associate with his name. It’s pathetic, I know. But I’m so stupid in love with the guy that just the thought of spending time with him sends me into a tailspin.
Also, he still owes me from last time, and he promised me Chinese takeout for lunch, so there’s that.
Out on the street, the sun has decided to hide behind a thick, gray cloud, leaving the sky overcast as I walk along the sidewalk toward the library.
But as I look up, I notice the entire street is currently blocked off by a cement truck parked at one end. There’s a huge guy with blonde dreadlocks standing at the back of the truck. He’s wearing a fluorescent vest, and he’s holding up a ‘stop’ sign in the direction of the oncoming traffic, as well as the pedestrians.
“Dammit,” I mumble to myself, pulling my handbag up a little higher on my shoulder.
“Sorry, lady, you’ll have to go the long way around,” he calls from the back of the truck. He holds his hand in the air, circling his finger around in case I don’t know what he means.
“Thanks,” I grumble.
Because I do know what he means.
Ugh. Now I’m going to have to go all the way around to the other side of the neighborhood just to avoid the roadwork, or I could wait here until the truck’s finished pouring and dreadlock boy gives me the green light to go ahead.
But I haven’t got time to go the long way around, or I’ll miss having lunch with Quinn.
Such a quandary.
Inspiration strikes. Okay, new plan.
Since I’m much closer to Tribeca, I’ll just make my way over to Bluebirds first, have lunch with Quinn, and then I’ll hit up the library after that. Once I’ve printed off all the pages, I’ll drop into the post office on my way home and have it couriered to the marketing department at NYU.
Tick. Tick. And tick.
It’s just after midday when I push through the front doors of Bluebirds, and I glance around the waiting room. It’s empty, save for a couple of teenage boys who are flicking through one of the albums on the coffee table.
“Oh, hey,” says Angel, looking up when the bell above the door chimes.
She’s leaning on the front counter, her breasts all but spilling out of her tank top. She’s studying the diary in front of her like it holds all the secrets of the universe.
“Quinn just ducked next door to Wai Sing’s to pick up the food. You just missed him.”
Vaughn calls down the hallway, “Is he buying me lunch, too?”
“Considering you only arrived an hour ago,” replies Angel, returning her attention to the diary. She taps the pen against her pursed lips. “I highly doubt it. You didn’t get your order in on time, plus some of us actually earn our breaks.”
“Bite me, Angel,” he grunts.
“Been there, done that.”
“And you’ll never forget it.”
“Yeah, you wish.”
I glance back over at the two teenage boys, who are both staring at Angel with open mouths and wide eyes. I don’t blame them.
“Hey, pick something, or get out.” Angel raises her voice at them, wiggling her finger in their direction. “We’re not running a day care center here. You want Vaughn to do it, he’s free for the next fifteen minutes. Quinn’s booked out for the rest of the day. I’ll poke a hole in whatever you put in front of me. Just make up your damn minds. You’ve been here for an hour already!”
Both boys bury their heads back in the book, madly flicking through the pages.
I smile when Angel makes eye contact with me again, lowering her voice. “So, tell me, are you early, or is Quinn running late?”
“No, I’m early. I was hoping to go to the library before lunch to do some printing, but there was…anyway, long story. I guess I’ll just have to go to the library this afternoon.”
“Why don’t you just use the printer here?”
“Really?”
“Sure.” She shrugs her tan shoulders. “Quinn updated the old system a few years ago, and he never got around to tossing the old printer out. It’s set up in his office in the back.”
“Do you think he’d mind?”
“Of course not.”
“It’s a lot of pages. I can pay for the paper.”
She chuckles wryly. “Get out of town. There’s no way in the world Quinn’s gonna charge you. Go on, get back there. The username and password are written on a yellow Post-It Note and stuck inside the top drawer.”
Hell. Yes.
Hurrying down the hallway to Quinn’s workstation, I take the USB stick out from my handbag. Finding the printer already connected to the laptop on his desk, I locate the Post-It Note and use the details to log on to the laptop.
From the front of the building, I hear Angel talking, and then footsteps can be heard as she escorts the two teenage boys into Vaughn’s room. They exchange a few more words, and then seconds later the distinct buzzing sound of Vaughn’s tattoo gun cuts into the heavy-rock music playing through the speakers.
Angel pokes her head into Quinn’s room and says, “I’m so bored.” A mischievous grin sweeps across her face. “Let me put gauges in your ears.”
“No, thank you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want saggy ears. Gross.”
She juts out her bottom lip. “But did you see the new polka dot gauges we just got in? They’re cute as fuck.”
“Still no.”
The laptop comes to life, so I stick the USB into the side, and select the file I want from the dropdown box.
“You don’t have to go big. We can start with a fourteen gauge. That’s itty-bitty, like this…” She squints, making a tiny circle with her fingers. “So small you won’t even know they’re there.”
I take a seat in front of the laptop, looking over my shoulder at her. “So what’s the point in getting them then?”
“Because, like I said… they’re cute as fuck.”
I double check the file name and the date, then press Print . “On you, yes absolutely. But I don’t want that for my ears. Thanks for the offer though.”
She lets out a dramatic sigh that carries into her voice. “But I’m soooo bored.”
“Quinn will be back shortly. Put gauges in his ears.”
“Don’t think I haven’t tried, like a gaziliion times already. He doesn’t want them either.”
I laugh as the front doorbell chimes, and Angel disappears from the doorway just as the delicious, salty, and greasy smell of Chinese food wafts down the hallway.
Angel squeals with excitement, and within seconds I hear her moan with pleasure, no doubt diving into a creamy satay or Wai Sing’s famous cashew chicken.
Feeling my stomach growl, I grab the first few pages off the little plastic shelf at the front of the printer, turning them over in my hands.
A few minutes later, Quinn walks into his room and smiles at me as he begins pulling out different dishes from a plastic bag.
“Hey, Alabama, I thought I’d beat you back.” He kisses my cheek, sounding a little out of breath. “I thought I’d have all this done before you got here. Been here long?”
I don’t respond. I’m too focused on the papers in my hands. I can’t tear my eyes away from them, trying to piece together something that suddenly makes no sense to me.
“I got barbeque pork, ginger beef, and a couple of the vegetable dishes you like so much.” He places a set of plastic utensils down in front of me. “Sound good?”
Again, I don’t answer him as I stare down at the sheet of paper, stuck on pause while I try to comprehend what I’m looking at.
I try breathing slowly, but the air leaves my body in a panicked rush while my bottom lip starts quivering.
“Cassie?”
Quinn reaches for me, but I take a step back. In my peripheral vision I catch him flinch, his hands held in limbo in front of him. He just stands there, staring at me.
“Cass, what’s wrong?” he asks, sounding anxious.
I’m not surprised Quinn doesn’t know what to make of things because honestly, I don’t know what to make of things either.
I clutch the paper even tighter.
My fingers begin to tremble.
The only sound is the buzzing of Vaughn’s tattoo gun in the background, and the repetitive drone of the printer spitting out even more pages.
One after the other.
Page after page.
A deep, baffled frown pulls my brows together as I let my eyes scroll over the first few lines …
I swallow, trying to dislodge the enormous lump in my throat. But it doesn’t budge, and if anything, my labored breath only intensifies.
Shaking away the tears burning in my eyes, I dare to peek across at Quinn, only to find him staring down at the pages in my hand with a sickened expression on his face. The pages with the exact same distinct markings on them as Jeremy’s letter.
“Cassie, I can explain.”