Page 91 of Under Pressure

In all honesty, I think he’s brought in even more customersjust from being here. That’s something I will never admit to Beck.

“He’s not our mascot,” I mutter.

Callie slips past me with a tower of plates in her hands. “Everyone still loves him. If you keep him, can we get him a little apron?”

“You want to get a dog an apron?”

Eli claps loudly. “Yes! And a tiny visor that we can pin between his ears.”

“Stop. Do you think Beck would say yes?” Callie asks.

I interrupt them before they get any more torture ideas. “We’re not dressing him up. He’s a dog, not a baby.”

“Imagine if you and Beck have babies! You can dress it up in Blank Page merch. Oh, my God! What if you got a tiny baseball jersey with Blank Page on the front and Rourke on the back? My ovaries are gonna explode,” Callie gushes, shaking her head furiously as she shoulders the kitchen door open.

The moment it’s open, Ruthie sticks an arm out to hold it. She peeks out at us, her eyes bright with humour as they cling to me.

“What is this I hear about babies?”

My face burns with the heat of a thousand suns as I hastily spin on my heels and busy myself with the cooler in front of me. The icy blast of air doesn’t even slightly help. Only the tips of my fingers find any relief once I readjust all of the orange juices.

“Oh, just that Beck and Quinn would have the cutest ones. I mean, with her red hair and his face? Come on,” Callie explains, smirking at me.

She knows damn well that there won’t be any babies. Out of everyone here, she’s the only one who didn’t buy the whole fake dating thing when Ruthie announced it like she was declaring some royal marriage. This is a humiliation ritual, point-blank, but I have no intention of letting her get away with it that easily.

“Are you saying all I have going for me is my hair?” I ask, letting my face fall.

Her eyes widen a bit. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m the frog in this relationship. I get it. At least I have nice hair.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“I think what she was trying to say is that you have beautiful hair. It’s rare, right? Like, special?” Eli rushes out, slightly panicked.

Special? Rare?Barf.

I wave my hand flippantly. “It’s fine. You don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

“Oh, knock it off, Quinn. Give them a break before poor Eli starts sobbing into that Frappuccino,” Ruthie scolds, releasing the door. It swings shut while she joins me at the cooler and gives my cheek a rough pinch.

Her laundry detergent is strong on her clothes this morning, and I inhale it greedily, needing it to settle me.

Eli frowns at her comments. “I wasn’t going to sob!”

“Could have fooled me.” Ruthie releases me and pats the sore skin, as if trying to soothe it. “You’re sharing a dog with the man, and you think you’re not going to get married and have a boatload of kids?”

“We’re not sharing Bodi. He’s Beck’s dog, not mine. I’m just watching him while he’s away. And I don’t want kids.”

Which isn’t new information to anyone. I have too many things to do with my life to even consider having a baby. I’m already twenty-nine, and I’m not getting any younger. If I haven’t changed my mind yet, then I don’t know if I ever will. If anyone could . . . it would be Beck and his beautiful genes. Not that I’d suddenly yearn to give birth. Especially given the size of the guy.

Fuck, I can’t imagine how big his baby would be.

Andwhyam I even thinking about his potential baby? If I were going to decide to be a mom, it wouldn’t be to Beck’s kid. Jesus, Quinn, start using your head.

Embarrassment pulses through my gut as I desperately try to focus on something else. I’d already raised my sister as adaughter when I was only a kid myself. Surely that was more than enough for me.

“At least let me get him a cute bandana or something. He needs to wear some sort of Blank Page swag if he’s going to be here,” Callie suggests.