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It doesn’t take long before I get lost in the music. Unlike most, I never needed the lyrics to enjoy it. I like the sound. My head moves to the soft melody instead of the heavier I’m used to, and when Kylar’s eyes close, so do mine.
The scene changes as I remember something I said last night when I was caught up in the moment with her. Soft music is playing—something like an orchestra. Natural lighting is all around. Green. Lots of green. White fold-up chairs are to each side of a white runner creating an aisle. There is an arbor at the end.
Finally, I see it: her at the opposite end, wearing a white, silky dress that hugs every curve and hits the ground. Her friends and family sit on one side, mine on the other. She starts walking down the aisle, her eyes trained on me, but the second she reaches me, it all vanishes, and my playing stops.
I open my eyes and stop the recording. I’ll play it back later. When I glance into the rocker thing, her breathing is even. She’s sacked out. I’ve still got it after all these years. “If this is all it takes for you to be creative, I’m willing to give you a baby shift.” The corners of my mouth rise at the recognition of Konnor’s voice. He’s grown on me a lot since he gave me the key to his parents’ old house in Laguna Beach that day at the airport. We’ve talked on and off since then.
When my eyes find his in the doorway where he’s leaned against the frame with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he continues. “On a serious note, even though I feel like an asshole, thanks.”
“It’s not a big deal. The baby had gas, Presley was exhausted, and thanks to your sister-in-law fleeing the house like it’s on fire, I wasn’t doing anything.”
“It is a big deal, to me. I should be doing what you’re doing. Since I haven’t been playing as long as any of you, I haven’t thought about it. I love that kid so much already, but I’ll be honest, fatherhood at twenty-one is a little overwhelming. It doesn’t help that several couples are sharing the same house. I like it in ways, and like Presley, I’m not ready to change it because of our age, but it also makes me feel like I’m in limbo between being a normal college student with a job and a working husband and father. The breastfeeding thing throws me off since that’s something I can’t help her with. Sometimes I get distracted with the guys and band stuff to the point that I don’t even notice my wife and best friend is so tired she can barely function. That makes me feel like a shitty partner, but I do appreciate this. I’ll try to do better.”
I strum my thumb down the front of the guitar, ending his little spiel. As if he can see where I’m going with this, he laughs, his expression mirroring mine. “Too much?”
“You do realize I’ve helped raise two of these already, right? I was around your age when Delaney was born. It’s honestly not a big deal or I would have told your ass to do it. Your first kid is a guilt-free learning curve. This stage is a walk in the park compared to what you have to look forward to. There is a reason I kept my shit wrapped until . . .” I trail off, remembering she’s his sister-in-law, and I just admitted to unprotected sex with a high schooler. That’s just fucking awkward.
He laughs out, clearly catching on, his arms now crossed over his chest. “We all have one, bro. I’m just glad the guy that finally got her attention wasn’t a douchebag.”
A chuckle slips. “Mississippi’s finest.” The room becomes a comfortable silence. “Where the hell is Maddox? I’m a little disappointed his ass wasn’t in here to rag me about this.”
He smirks. “I sent him to the store to stock the outdoor fridge with beer and shit Paxtyn likes after I went to the pisser and found Presley asleep without the baby by the bed. She didn’t even budge when I walked in. She’s normally a light sleeper. That’s when I figured out where the music was coming from.”
Something dawns on me as I quietly set the guitar against the wall, remembering how she kept harping on one hour. She probably set a damn alarm. “Go confiscate her phone before it goes off and come help me carry this thing out to the pool table. There are plugs out there, and music. We can handle this for a few hours and practice when Riggan gets home from work. If she wakes up hungry, we’ll just bum tit milk from Sayler. I saw some in the freezer when I took out the vodka for Paxtyn last night. She may even be back from her parents’ by then to warm it up.”
His brows sink. “You can share breast milk? Isn’t that weird?”
I shake my head. Do I have to teach them everything about kids? I don’t even have any. “They’re best friends, dipshit, it’s not like they’re strangers. Did you not pay attention in history? Wet nurses were real. Every hospital has a milk bank. It’s only weird if you make it weird.”
“How would you even know a hospital has a milk bank?”
“My sister and mom work at a hospital. You’re missing the point. Do you want to play pool or not? You wake her up by asking idiotic questions and I’m leaving you to figure it out.”
His hands go up in surrender, a smile back on his face. “Disarm the wife of her cell phone, got it. Be right back.”
When he leaves the room, I look down at the sleeping newborn. “Be smart, like Uncle Landon. Unlike the rest of them, I’ll teach you to survive.”
FIFTEEN
PAXTYN
“Icannot believe you pulled that off,” Gabby says from the passenger seat of her car as we drive through the heart of Miami. “And for him to believe you’re their manager . . .” She laughs.
I smile, knowing the secret to everything is confidence, and how you carry yourself. It’s a tip I learned from my mom when I was younger, because in a courtroom, it’s a necessity. Out of my siblings and I, I’m the one that perfected it. “I cannot believe you’re letting a seventeen-year-old drive your pregnant ass around,” I respond as I glance at the GPS screen telling me how to get to the location I want to be.
“Yeah, well, I’m still not super comfortable driving in a metro area, and you’re from California, so . . . you’re probably used to it. Places like this make back home look like a tiny, one-lane town—it’s not. It’s so congested here.” She glances out her window and blurts out, “That one right there.”
I glance through the rearview mirror of her Acura and hit the turn signal before cutting the wheel right and pulling in. I stare at the tattoo sign on the not-so-glamorous building. The whole thing looks like it needs to be torn down and rebuilt. It’s a good location, but definitely an eyesore. “Are you sure this is it?”
She gives me the stink eye. “A girl never forgets where she found out she was pregnant. This is it.”
I pull in the closest parking space to the door, killing the engine. “Whatever you say.”
We both get out of the car at the same time, meeting at the front. As the lock signal sounds, she asks, “Why did you want to come here anyway? Could we have not told him at home, with the rest of the band?”
I pull my purse on my shoulder from the bend in my arm. “No, because there is something I want for this good deed I’ve done.”
She steps up to the glass door and grabs the metal handle with a grin on her face. “You’re going to get someone killed. Does he know?”
