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I was torn but she nodded firmly. “Call Denise and tell her you’re going home. Let her watch the baby while you sleep and then she can take him home with her when you go to work.”
I hesitated but she was right.
I didn’t want to lose another job, and there was no point in watching her sleep.
“Okay, I’ll go, but I’m bringing you your phone on my way to work,” I said. I’d forgotten in the hurry to get out of the house, and I needed her to be able to reach me.
“Good idea.” She squeezed my hand. “Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
21
Zeke
With everything happening in my life, I hadn’t reached out to the band at all, so they had no idea anything was going on. We were supposed to be in the studio tomorrow to start the new album, but I was restless tonight. I needed to talk to someone other than my parents, and for the first time in a while, I sent a message to Carter.
ZEKE: Hey, what are you up to? You want to hang out?
CARTER: It’s not like I can go have a drink or anything.
ZEKE: I can come over, we can order pizza, and I can show you the new song I’m working on. Plus I have news.
CARTER: Dude. I’m not drinking or doing drugs. I’m completely sober. You don’t have to come babysit me.
ZEKE: Not everything is about you. Did it ever occur to you that I might have something happening in my life?
CARTER: Yeah, right. Give me a break. The band reaches out one at a time, like I can’t figure out what you’re up to.
That was news to me, but I’d been out of the loop for the last week.
ZEKE: Are you seriously being a dick right now? I legit have something to tell you and you’re pouting because your band actually gives a shit about you. Boo fucking hoo.
CARTER: I’m not pouting. Tell me your fucking news.
ZEKE: Oh, nothing big. I just met my kid for the first time, but hey, go ahead and act like a pissy little bitch.
My phone rang a second later, and I smirked as I answered. “Oh, that got your attention.”
“Are you fucking with me?” Carter demanded.
“No.”
“Christ. Get your ass over here.”
“I’m on my way. Order pizza. Large. With sausage and pepperoni.”
“Consider it done.”
I disconnected and grabbed my favorite acoustic guitar. It was the first one I’d ever bought, and it was the one I almost always used when I was writing music on my own. I was itching to turn lyrics into melodies, and Carter and I always worked well together. Of course, first I had to tell him about Jeremy. And Presley.
“Yo.” Carter was leaning against the front door of his Beverly Hills condo as I came down the hall. He looked better than he had in a while, having added a few pounds to his lean frame.
“Hey, man.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re lookin’ healthy.”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
