Immoral

by Nicole Dykes

  How can he say that so easily? It took me so fucking long to tell these people I was gay, and they just swept it away like it wasn’t real. And I let them do that for so long. “Your father—”

  Grady cuts her off quickly, “Has no role in my life. He’s been blowing up my phone for weeks, so I’ve changed my number. I want nothing to do with him.”

  “But Grady—”

  Again, he doesn’t let her speak, but his tone softens, “Look, I know you love your son, but you need to love all of him. Or you’re going to miss out on a whole hell of a lot. Our wedding. Our kids.”

  “Kids?” I raise my eyebrow playfully. That’s not something we’ve talked about.

  “Opposed?”

  “No,” I answer quickly because I think we’d both make amazing fathers, and all of a sudden, I want that with him badly.

  “Well, I suppose that’s not as bad as you playing for LA.” Grady and I both turn our attention to my father, and my jaw drops at his first words.

  “What?”

  He shrugs his shoulder uncomfortably. “I’m proud of you, Ryan. I just want you to be happy. Even if it’s in LA.”

  He says LA with disgust, but it’s playful. The whole sentence sounded genuine. “Really?”

  He looks directly into the camera. “Yes, really. You’ve always made me proud. Always working to achieve the highest goals, and now you’re in love. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  My mother gasps, “But—”

  My dad cuts her off this time, “But nothing. You know you love weddings, and you want grandchildren. No need to ruin that chance.”

  My mother wipes at her face, and she breathes deeply. “I do love you, Ryan.”

  “I love you too.” It’s true, even if we don’t see eye-to-eye on much and I wish she wasn’t so damn closed-minded.

  “And we love Grady.”

  “Good,” I say firmly. “That’s nonnegotiable.”

  “What about LA? Is that up for negotiation?” my dad jokes, and I shake my head.

  “I don’t think so, Dad.”

  “Well,” he says, scratching his chin. “I don’t think I can stomach going there to watch a home game, but when you come here, you can bet I’ll be in the crowd.”

  “I’ll get you VIP seats.”

  They both wave me off, and we talk for a while longer before we say our goodbyes. I put my phone on the table next to me and lean against Grady. “Did that really just happen?”

  He chuckles, his shoulder moving with the movement. “I think your dad is more pissed about you playing for LA than you being gay with me.”

  “Gay with you?” I look up at him, amused.

  “You better not be gay with anyone else.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

  “I know, but you love me.” I kiss him softly, letting my hand rake down his toned abs. “I do. Want me to show you how much?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I’m glad my parents seem to be coming around, but even if they weren’t, it wouldn’t matter.

  Nothing else matters but this.

  Almost Three Years Later

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re here. We’re witnessing the last play of Ryan Bailey’s career. And what a career it’s been.” I can hear the announcer, but my eyes are on my husband.

  He could have signed another contract. Hell, he could have negotiated a huge contract, considering his team is about to win his third World Series, but he doesn’t want it.

  I’ve been taking time off the past three years, being a baseball husband and enjoying the holy hell out of it. Doesn’t hurt that my husband’s ass looks fucking great in those baseball pants, but still.

  I don’t follow him every time he travels, but more often than not, I do. Especially if I can fit in an interview in the city he’s in, keeping the band relevant. My record label actually has been pretty damn cool about the whole thing. I either misjudged them, or they just didn’t want to deal with a scandal. Or maybe Jenny got to them.

  Who knows?

  I’ve still been writing songs and keeping up with Immoral. And maybe after some much-needed time of both of us being off work, I might go back on tour.

  “And that’s it, folks!” I smile as the game ends and Ry’s team rushes the field in another victory. “Ryan Bailey, the city of LA thanks you,” the announcer says warmly, and I wait for my man on the sidelines, ready to start our new life.

  As Ryan remains busy with reporter after reporter, I decide to finally check my phone, and my heart speeds up in a panic.

  Oh, fuck.

  I see missed phone calls from Jenny and Waylon as well as several texts from both of them.

  “Fuck.” I try to call Waylon, but there’s no answer.

  Ry’s eyes meet mine through the crowd. He must sense my panic because he makes his way to me. “What’s wrong?”

  Before I can answer a large microphone is shoved in my face. “Grady Bell, how proud are you of your husband?”

  “Grady Bailey, actually.” Ry was more than willing to hyphenate our names, but I wasn’t having it. I don’t want anything to do with my father’s last name, and I’m happy as hell to have Ryan’s.

  “Right.” The reporter looks slightly flustered but quickly rebounds, “Well, how happy are you for your husband, Mr. Bailey?”

  “Super proud. Always.”

  “Can you please give us a minute?” Ry asks politely, and thankfully, the reporter and his crew get the hint. He immediately turns to me. “What’s wrong?”

  “I have a shitload of missed calls from Waylon and Jenny.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I know.”

  Finally, my phone rings in my hand, and I answer when I see it’s Waylon, “What’s going on?”

  “Jesus. Now you finally answer your phone!” I hear Waylon’s frantic tone, and a bucket of ice water may as well have been poured over my head because I’m freaked the fuck out.

  “I’m sorry, we were a little busy. What’s going on?”

  “Jenny’s in the hospital. Get here now.”

  “Shit.”

  Ryan and I don’t waste any time and get out of there. Waylon is a miracle worker and gets us immediately on a chartered jet from Colorado back to California. After what feels like an eternity but, in reality, is only a short time, we arrive at the hospital.

  We’re greeted by a weary Waylon, who looks worn the fuck out. “Finally.”

  “Where is she?” Ryan asks, and Waylon leads us into the hospital room where Jenny is lying in a bed. But she’s not alone. Not anymore.

  “Oh my God.” The gasp comes from me as I see the bundle in her arms. “Jen-nay.”

  She looks beautiful with her black hair tied up and no makeup on, but she’s smiling even through the glare she directs my way. “I gave birth to your kid, and you still use that stupid nickname?”

  “He’s sorry.” Ry has tears in his eyes as he approaches the bed. “She’s here. Already?”

  “Yeah. I thought we had two more weeks.” The sweet girl wraps her pinky around Jenny’s finger and looks up at Ry with her big blue eyes. It’s like she knows she belongs to him.

  But she’s my girl too.

  We both put sperm in the equation, and who knows whose actually won out. We don’t care. As far as we’re concerned, little Kristy is both of ours. And thank God for our friend, Jenny, who deserves one hell of a raise for this.

  “You okay?” Ryan asks her, placing a hand on our baby’s head.

  “I’m fine. Really. They gave me an epidural quickly, and I didn’t feel shit.”

  “I was there for that gore-fest, though, and I’d appreciate a raise,” Waylon says from his seat next to the bed.

  Ryan and I both chuckle as Jenny situates herself in the bed and smiles at Ryan. “Since you’re my favorite, you take her first.”

  Ry doesn’t argue. When he lifts our girl into his arms, I realize I thought I was whole before, but that was only one chapter of our story
because now everything is right in the world. Nothing can touch me.

  The love of my life is holding the love of our lives, and that’s it for me. I’m fucking done.

  “Wow.” I can’t say anything more than that, and when Ryan moves to my side and places Kristy in my arms, I take a moment to deeply breathe in her sweet scent, taking in every detail from her tiny nose, big eyes, and tiny little hands. “She’s perfect.”

  Ryan is beaming. “She is. She’s everything, Grady.”

  “She’s a Bailey.” I grin.

  He takes my hand as I hold our girl, surrounded by our best friends.

  Maybe I should have immediately followed Ry all those years ago. Maybe he shouldn’t have left, but it doesn’t matter. Maybe I should have had the courage to tell him how I felt even if I didn’t really understand it back then. I kissed him because I loved him. I know that now. But none of it matters.

  None of it.

  Because I have him.

  And we have her.

  Things aren’t 100 percent perfect. I mean, are they ever?

  But they’re as close to perfect as I can imagine. Kristy is a perfect, happy baby. But she has her own personality, and she fusses, letting us know when she isn’t pleased with her dads. And yeah—she’s going to be spoiled as hell, but we don’t care.

  “Fuck. I’ll get her,” Grady grumbles from his side of the bed, but I laugh him off.

  “I’ll get her. It was your turn last time.”

  It’s the middle of the day anyway, and we were trying to do what they say and nap when the baby is napping.

  “Nah, you got her three times before that.”

  He climbs out of bed, wearing only a pair of gray joggers that hug his ass perfectly and still turn me the fuck on even sleep-deprived and after nearly four years together.

  There’s nothing he can do to turn me off.

  But when he holds our two-month-old baby to his bare chest, bouncing her and soothing her?

  Yeah. Nothing fucking hotter in this universe.

  I don’t miss baseball as much as I thought I would. I figure in a few years, if I do miss it, maybe I’ll go into sports broadcasting or something sports-related. But I wouldn’t mind having a few more Kristys either. Of course, I’m pretty sure Jenny is out.

  She loves being Aunt Jenny, but she told me, and I quote, “I’m not pushing anything else out of my vagina.” After that horrible image, Waylon, Grady, and I decided we were okay with that.

  We can get another surrogate who won’t talk about all the gory details.

  But we love Jenny. She’s not only my manager but has become one of our best friends, and we can never repay her for giving us Kristy.

  “I think she’s hungry,” Grady says, laying her in my arms as he goes to heat a bottle.

  I smile when I see a text from my mom, telling me they got their flight confirmation. I text her back, telling her we can’t wait and send her a quick baby pic to tide her over.

  Kristy sucks on my finger as she waits somewhat patiently for Grady to get back. When he does, he takes her and moves to the rocking chair in the corner to feed our girl.

  “Mom and Dad will be here next Wednesday.”

  “Good.” He smiles, and it’s real. My parents attended our wedding and now seem to be pretty damn open and supportive of our marriage. My mom especially is excited about her beautiful granddaughter and never lectures us. She refers to Grady as my husband, as she should, and for now, all is right in the world.

  Grady’s father has openly spewed hatred toward us, but we just ignore and block him. Because no one deserves that kind of toxicity in their lives. That’s what the block button is for, and yeah, you can use it in real-life.

  No love lost there.

  And thankfully, we have more than enough love in this house to make up for it. Our kids are going to grow up in a house full of love and acceptance where nothing else is tolerated.

  And it’s a beautiful thing.

  The End

  Note from the Author

  I want to thank you for reading Ryan and Grady’s story. Man, I love them. They were so hard to let go! I really didn’t want it to end because their love is beautiful to me.

  I want to live in a world full of acceptance, where love is never hated and no one has to hide. I hope you enjoyed their story.

  I know some of it may seem exaggerated, and admittedly, I don’t know a lot about the inner workings of the sports/rockstar world, but it is fiction after all. And this sort of stuff does happen. No one should have to live in fear, whether perceived or real. Everyone should be free to love who they love.

  I love MM romance, but I wasn’t sure I could write it properly. Hopefully I did them justice because Ryan and Grady will remain in my heart forever.

  I want to thank Elle, Ari, and Emma for telling me I could do this and supporting me the entire time, even when I was a super cranky bitch and had to put myself in timeout. I love you all! But don’t be gross.

  Thank you, Jeanna, for always being your most amazing self. And thanks to all my friends who have always been there for me. I want to thank my family for their love and support, especially my poor husband who had to deal with my cranky self in person.

  I had this idea for a summer of standalones—four books in four months, and I’m the first one to tell you, I’m totally insane. I have two kids under seven and am a wife, daughter, sister, friend, and a total freaking nut.

  But I’m almost there now!

  I hope you’ve enjoyed this book and will consider leaving a review! Love you all so much! Thank you, and please, remember to be kind. Remember that love should never be made ugly.

  Love hard, you all!

  -Nicole