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Quinn: Oh yes, that thing you failed to mention to me. Hold please. Let me copy and paste it from the online article.
Emily: Or you could just send me the link, Grandpa.
Quinn: It’s much more fun this way, when I can read it again and be horrified that you didn’t tell me this big, life-altering news.
Quinn: “Quinn Bagley and his island girlfriend, a former professional cheerleader for the Los Angeles Vipers, were seen at their first public outing since rumors of their secret affair began swirling over a month ago. The happy couple attended a charity event at Sharks Stadium last week, unable to keep their hands or their eyes off each other. Several stunning photos of the pair were taken throughout the night, but fans are chattering the most about the one in this article, showing the couple talking to Bill Riley, the Sharks’s General Manager. Is that a baby bump we see on Ms. Flanagan? Only time will tell if the Sharks’s new quarterback made the ultimate pass and will find himself starting his own little football team in the coming months.”
Emily: Are you freaking kidding me?! I told you having that second piece of chocolate mousse torte for dessert was a bad idea. IT’S A FOOD BABY, GODDAMMIT!
Quinn: You know what this means, right?
Emily: Yes. That I am never eating in public again.
Quinn: If I ever hear those words come out of your mouth again, I will take you over my knee and spank that sexy ass of yours. You are perfect. Your body is PERFECT. Every curvy, mouth-watering inch of you is perfect. Watching you enjoy a piece of chocolate cake, and hearing the little sounds you made every time you pulled that fucking fork out of your mouth, has now been added to my spank bank.
Quinn: Want to know what else was added to my spank bank, on top of the Miss July bathing suit photo?
Emily: Not particularly.
Quinn: Are you sure? It involves the number of times you shouted, “Oh God, yes! Fuck me harder, Quinn!”
Emily: You’re going to make it really easy to not shed any fake tears when we fake break up.
Quinn: Anyway, back to my original point. You know what this Quemily baby-watch means, don’t you? This means we definitely can’t break up now. What will people think? That I’m a deadbeat dad who runs away from responsibilities? Hell no!
Emily: Yeah, except I’m not actually pregnant.
Quinn: Sorry, but Little Chocolate Torte Bagley and I have already formed a bond. Plus, I kind of, sort of agreed that we would be the parade marshals for the Summersweet Island opening day parade next week. Surprise!
Emily: OMG!
Quinn: I’m sorry! Your mayor is VERY persuasive. We can’t let Summersweet down. They’re counting on us to lead them on a jaunty march through town, while whipping hard candy at the faces of unsuspecting children.
Emily: You are ridiculous.
Quinn: Come on. I want to throw candy at kids. We’ve got the steak fry in a few days, then the parade and opening day festivities next weekend, then maybe you can get rid of me after that.
Emily: I feel like you’re just doing all of this because you want a locker room repeat.
Quinn: Well, I never! That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.
Quinn: But if during all of these festivities you do happen to trip and fall on my penis, you won’t hear any complaints out of me.
Emily: I’m going back to work now.
Quinn: See you at the steak fry! I’ll be the one wearing the Quemily shirt. I got us matching ones! You didn’t tell me they were so sparkly.
CHAPTER 19
Quinn
“Cut that shit out.”
“Okay, I’m back!” Shepherd announces, handing me a red-and-white-striped box of popcorn and a bag of M&M’s as he sits down on the bench next to me.
“Where the hell are my Skittles?” Bodhi complains from the other side of me, after Shepherd handed a soft pretzel back to Palmer and leaned around me to hand Bodhi a hot dog.
Palmer reaches forward from his seat in the row behind us and smacks my hand when I start to give Bodhi my bag of chocolate.
“Rule number one if you’re going to hang out with us: Don’t give Bodhi any sugar. It makes him crazy,” Palmer says, taking a big bite out of his pretzel and then leaning back in his seat.
Bodhi and Palmer start to bicker back and forth, and I just lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees, enjoying the fresh-made popcorn and the view in front of me.
After the best damn steak dinner of my life that included a baked potato, corn on the cob, and a whole crap-ton of baked goods from a new bakery that just opened on the island, now we’re sitting in the stands of the football field. I was here the night I was snooping on Emily while she was coaching, but it was after dark, and you couldn’t see the view. There really are a lot of perks to living on an island, and one of them is having your home stands face the ocean. The sun is setting, and everyone moved out here to watch the cheerleaders perform their new dance routine, and for the band to play a few songs, followed by the announcement of the winners of the raffle baskets, and then the grand total of how much money was raised tonight. I’m so used to doing the big, fancy charity events that are publicized. It’s nice to do something small like this, where I can relax with a bunch of good people who all pitch in to help each other out, because they want to and because they care. And that’s exactly what I said in my guest speech right before dinner—which got a standing ovation, thank you very much. And I’m also having a hell of a lot of fun hanging out with Emily’s friends while she’s busy, especially because she told me not to.
