by Cari Quinn
“You answered the phone sounding sexy, so I felt like I should respond in kind. And to carry on the theme, what’re you wearing?”
“Right now?” She glanced down at her bright pink V-necked top—and the clump of pork sitting on her left boob. “I’m wearing part of Fiesta Cantina’s number six special. The rest is still on my plate.”
His rich laughter didn’t last long. “Why aren’t you packing it away?”
Her fingers started to creep across the scarred tabletop to the envelope again before she mentally slapped them back. “I’m not that hungry.”
Wrong answer.
“Why not? Are you feeling okay?”
“Sure. You know, I don’t have to eat twenty-four/seven. I’m allowed to take breaks.”
“If you’re not eating, something’s wrong. Are you sure you’re not sick? Is it the morning sickness again? I thought you were better. What about those pills? They’re supposed to help. Or crackers. Deak said that—”
“Take a breath,” she advised. “And sweetie, as much as I appreciate the barrage of advice, once you bring another non-child-bearing, penis-toting individual into the conversation, the pregnancy help is over.”
“He’s going to be a father,” he said, clearly affronted, which only made her grin.
“Yes, he is. And he still has a penis. From what I’ve heard, it’s really freaking hu—”
“Stop this train, I’m getting off.”
She couldn’t help giggling. “Sorry. Girl talk. You know how it is. I promise, I told Harper you’re built like a cross between a stallion and a gorilla, with some throwback tendencies to a T-Rex.”
“You seriously talk to Harper about my dick? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“I only say flattering things.”
“Great. Now I’m the one who wants to throw up.”
She giggled again, knowing he was just kidding and not the least bit bothered. Gray didn’t have anything to worry about in the meat-packing department, and he damn well knew it. “So what’s up? I don’t suppose you can join me for a late lunch? Harp had to leave.”
“Aww, babe, I can’t. I wish I could.”
“That’s okay.” Her smile drooped under the weight of her newly squashed hopes. “I’ll see you later.”
“That’s why I’m calling. I’m going to be late tonight. That band I’m working with, The Grunge? They want me to head over to their practice space in Ventura. Something about getting their vibe. No fucking clue what that means, but I’m going because I think these guys are on the way up. Do you know what that could mean for us if their album breaks in a major way?”
She bit her lip and tucked the offending envelope under her napkin, out of sight. “If our album breaks in a major way, why do we need to worry about theirs?”
His sigh wasn’t unexpected, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt just the same. “Babe, we’ve been over this. We can’t just count on Oblivion when we have a kid on the way. We have to be responsible enough to—”
“Wait, hold up. I’m not being responsible? I’m about to head back into the studio to do another half dozen takes on my parts of the songs you’ve already finished when I have an unending need to pee and can’t decide if I’m full, I’m hungry or if I’m going to puke.”
“Why do you have to go back into the studio? You’re always flawless.”
That had been sticking in her craw too, though she hadn’t fully acknowledged it since the Molly situation had taken top billing. She wasn’t used to not getting it right the first time. The rest of her life, hell yes. She was usually a moving fail from one day to the next. But her music normally came through for her.
“Apparently not now, I’m not.” She rubbed her eyes and tried to dial back the bitchy in her tone. He didn’t deserve it. He was just trying to take care of them. “I’m just cranky and hot and want to curl up somewhere to sleep. Don’t mind me.”
“Call the studio and tell them to book you later in the week instead if you aren’t feeling well.”
“Does that mean you’ll come to bed with me and keep me company?”
His silence ate away at the hint of amusement that tried creeping back. She knew he couldn’t come home. He’d just said as much, and what was keeping him away would benefit both of them. So why did she keep pushing him?
Because you need to talk to him about Molly, and you can’t say the damn words.
“I wish I could. If you need me, just call.”
“When you’re stuck in Ventura? Fat lot of good that’ll do me.” As soon as the words were out, she wanted to snatch them back, but she couldn’t.
God, she needed to stuff a handful of tortilla chips in her mouth unless she wanted to end up divorced before they’d even gotten married.
“Jesus, Jazz, this is for our future. And our child’s future. You get that, right? I’m trying to make certain we have a solid base.”
“I understand all of that. That base is part of why I’m about to go do my job. Have a good day.” She clicked off and set down the phone, cursing herself under her breath. She hadn’t said I love you, and the last time she’d done that, he’d gotten beaten up and nearly killed. It was bad juju, and she was being a bitch to him for absolutely no reason.
Well, other than the fact that she hated having to share him with anyone after all the years they’d spent in denial about their feelings. That wasn’t fair to him. Besides, they were going to have a lifetime together.
She should call him back and apologize.
Grabbing her phone, she pressed the number one speed dial, already anticipating hearing his husky, deep voice. She was so in love with him that it made her stupid. Surely that erased some of her bitch points, right? She’d even take the hormonal pregnancy discount if it eased some of this damn guilt.
Guilt that only compounded when the call went straight to voicemail.
She hung up without saying anything, feeling utterly miserable. He never avoided her calls. And she never wimped out on apologizing when it was due.
Swallowing hard, she tossed her phone in her purse and dug out her wallet. The waiter had dropped off the bill when she was on the phone with Gray, and the total was more than the bills she had in her wallet. Harper had forgotten to chip in her share in her hurry to leave.
Jazz sighed and dug out the ATM card she saved for emergencies. Growing up as a foster kid had made her pretty frugal, and being in a semi-famous band hadn’t changed that. Yet another reason why Gray’s lectures about responsibility rubbed her raw. She’d always been responsible about money. She’d even bailed him out when—
No. She blew out a breath. Not going there. She’d spent enough time on Snarky Street for one afternoon.
She paid the bill and checked her silent phone one more fruitless time before heading down to Ripper Records’ in-house studio. Six hours plus later, her sections were finished—again—and she was free to leave.
Good thing because she was falling asleep on her feet.
Oblivion’s manager Lila walked her out to her car, her sharp heels clicking on the pavement. “So are you okay to drive home?”
Jazz cut her a glance. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re so pale I could see my reflection in your cheek.” Lila gripped Jazz’s arm and tapped her wrist. “Pulse is strong. Are you feeling faint?”
Jazz had to laugh. She’d never been mothered so much in her life as she had been since becoming pregnant. As soon as she had the thought, the laughter died.
She’d never been really mothered, not the right way. Even as a child, she hadn’t been her mother’s first priority. Or even fifth. So no wonder it felt so strange—and wonderful—to have people she cared about fussing over her at every turn.
Gray would fuss over her when he got home, she just knew it. He hadn’t called all day because he was working, not because he thought she was an obnoxious, ungrateful wench.
Or something even worse.
“I’m fine, I promise. I’m just a l
ittle tired. It was a long day.”
“It was, but you nailed your parts. I think this album is finally almost in the can, minus a bit more finessing. Did I mention we’re bringing Margo back in too? Her section needed some work as well.” Lila shook her head. “So odd. You two are the biggest perfectionists yet you both needed more studio time.” Almost as an afterthought, she glanced at Jazz’s belly with an expression akin to trepidation. “Though I suppose in your case the implant had something to do with that.”
“The implant?” Jazz snorted out a laugh as she pried her car keys out of her purse. Surreptitiously, she checked her silent phone one more time. Maybe it wasn’t working. Perhaps she should borrow Lila’s. She glanced up to see her friend peering down at her with a knowing gleam in her eyes.
So much for surreptitious.
“Missing your man, hmm?”
“No,” Jazz said, a little too quickly. “Just keeping an eye on…things.”
“Mmm-hmm. Things like where he is and where he’s sticking it.”
Surely she’d misheard her. “Say what?”
Lila slid a hand over her hair, smoothing the pin-straight strands into place. Not that they’d been out of place to begin with. “Nothing. That’s just my own insecurities talking. Gray would never do that to you while you were pregnant.”
“But he would some other time?” Jazz couldn’t keep the sharpness from her tone. “Li, what are you getting at?”
Lila surprised Jazz by leaning against the side of the used car Gray had bought earlier that month. Now that they were building their family, he’d wanted her to have something reliable and not to have to rely on the kindness of friends or the band truck for transportation.
Still though, it was a beat-up vehicle with its share of LA dirt smudged on the paint, which wouldn’t go well with Lila’s pristine pale pink suit.
“I’m not getting at anything except I’m more than a little bitter and a lot jealous.”
“Of what? Of who?”
Lila smiled. “You, silly. Look at you. You’re glowing.”
“A minute ago you said I was Casper’s twin.”
“Okay, so today the light’s weaker than some days, but still.” Lila grabbed Jazz’s hands and held them out to the sides. “You’re absolutely gorgeous. Soon you’re going to be walking around with a big belly, and he loves you just that way. That’s rather incredible.”
Jazz frowned. If today had taught her anything, it was to not read more into what was said than the actual words. She would employ that same newfound wisdom when and if she womaned up enough to read Molly’s letter sometime this century.
Right now she would use her new skills to respond more proactively to Lila’s statement.
“Did someone tell you they didn’t like the way a woman looked when she was pregnant?” she asked softly.
That was one thing she would never have to worry about with Gray. If anything, he found her even more desirable now. He had his hands all over her constantly and told her all the time that he couldn’t wait to see her body change.
Lila lowered her gaze to the ground. “Is it that obvious?”
“No. Eight hours ago, I would’ve assumed you were trying to say I looked fat and it was a miracle that Gray still thought I was attractive. This morning, I ate Bitchy Bran Flakes for breakfast and was ready to bite people’s heads off. I’ve had an attitude shift since then.”
Lila smiled. “Let me guess. It involved a lunchtime quickie before you got here.”
“I wish.” Jazz sagged against the car. Screw the dust. “We haven’t had sex in three days.”
“Oh, the horrors.” Lila examined her manicure, hesitating before she continued speaking. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?”
Lila never talked about her personal life. Ever. Even the word sex falling out of her pale pink lips seemed impossibly crude. “Uh—”
“More than six years.”
“Oh. Wow. Um. Wow.”
Lila surprised her by laughing. “Yes, wow. Yet I manage to function just the same.”
“So I shouldn’t whine about three days, I guess. Sorry. I didn’t realize. Are you just…really particular or—”
“More that I don’t feel it’s proper to compromise my vows. Marriage vows,” she added when Jazz stared.
“You’re married? Why the hell aren’t you having sex then?” Jazz clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Uncalled for. Not my business. But seriously, why? That’s like having Nutella in the cupboard and only eating plain crackers.”
Lila laughed, shaking her head. “My husband has not ever been and will never be considered Nutella. He’s more of a dry fruit spread with too many seeds.”
“Okay,” Jazz said slowly. It really wasn’t her business. She had no reason to ask. “But don’t you, you know, get horny?”
“Of course. But I don’t need a man for that.” Lila eased off the car and stood bow-straight as she cast a critical look at Jazz. “Go home and get some rest. I want you to have some pink in your cheeks the next time I see you.” Lila leaned in and shocked the hell out of her by giving her a brief, semi-awkward hug then stepped back. “Eat too. Something light that won’t upset the baby this late. Good work today,” she called, starting back toward the studio at a blistering clip.
She was gone before Jazz found her voice.
Shaking her head, Jazz unlocked the car and slipped inside. Her stomach rumbled. It was now creeping toward eight o’clock. A greasy meal would hit the spot. Maybe a double cheeseburger with an extra side of pickles or—
Eat too. Something light that won’t upset the baby this late.
Jazz turned the key in the ignition. For someone who wasn’t a mom, Lila sure had a mom-like way about her. And she was right. The baby probably wouldn’t mind—or even know—if she shoved a pile of fast food down her throat, but she would. She had to think responsibly.
Fuck that word.
She ended up taking a detour to the grocery store. She loaded up her cart with some staples, since Simon had taken to popping her candy-like vitamins and drinking her whole milk. When she started breastfeeding, she was tempted to dump some in the carton and not tell him. It would only serve him right.
He’d probably happily drink it anyway, the freak.
She gave in to a pack of chocolate chip cookies and to checking her phone twice, though she compensated by adding extra vegetables to her cart. Vegetables were a suitable penance for everything. And for good measure, she’d go for her recommended daily thirty minute walk when she arrived home. Unless Gray was there, of course. Then she’d apologize profusely, ask him about his day like a good little almost-wifey then jump the holy hell out of him.
She shuddered, thinking of Lila as she loaded her groceries into the trunk. Six years with no sex seemed like cruel and unusual punishment. She’d had some serious dry spells of her own, often lasting a year or more, but she’d balanced that scale by boinking like bunnies with Gray since they’d gotten together. Then there was that one threesome she’d had in days of yore…
Yeah, not going there. Thank God that particular bone had been tucked into its proper closet, never to be unearthed again. She hoped.
In under an hour, she arrived home and put away her groceries, kicked Simon’s feet off the coffee table just to piss in his Cheerios, exchanged some snark with Nick and enjoyed a big bear hug from Deacon. Harper was out doing her catering thing, and though Jazz missed her, it was probably just as well. Harper and Deak would be moving out as soon as their new house was ready and she had to get used to not having her best friend under the same roof.
Her best friend that wasn’t Gray, that is. He would always come first in everything with her, as he had since the day she’d moved into his parents’ house at the age of fourteen. She still remembered the way he’d swaggered into the living room that first day, wearing a vintage Dokken T-shirt and a face full of attitude. Then he’d noticed the guitar in her lap and the most beautiful friendship of her life h
ad been born.
Glancing down, she rubbed her belly and tried to stem the tide of emotions that seemed way too close to the surface lately. She wanted to blame her hormones. Hell, she’d blame the phases of the moon if she could. Anything was better than realizing that with every passing day of her pregnancy, her family was creeping back into her thoughts. Her family, not Gray’s, though she missed them too in spite of everything that had happened between them. Her mama.
And Molly.
Bringing a new life into the world was something to share with those you were close to. She hadn’t been close to her birth family in too many years to count but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss them. It didn’t mean she didn’t hope way down deep that maybe someday they could be reunited.
“Stupid, foolish romantic heart,” she said under her breath. She hurried into the bathroom and shed her clothes before she could be tempted to dig out Molly’s letter again. She would open it when she was ready.
She would be soon. Maybe. Possibly.
She carried her bath stuff to the tub, then added a bunch of bubbles before slipping into the water. The surprisingly cool spring day had make her fantasize about a hot soak all evening. Naturally she’d wished Gray would be home to join her, but as that wasn’t in the cards, she was going to have a fine time on her own.
After sighing her way through the first few steamy minutes, she fumbled for the expensive pair of waterproof headphones she’d bought for this very purpose. She turned on her waterproof radio, setting it to the classical channel before shifting around so her belly poked through the bubbles.
“You ready for the nightly concert, kiddo? Sorry about the noise earlier. Mommy screwed up her part so she had to keep doing it over and over. I bet you probably hate ‘Monster’ now. Me too, but it’ll be kickass live. Uh, I mean kickbutt.” She cast a glance skyward and sent up a quick apology. Lord, this parenting thing wasn’t easy, and she hadn’t even gone through childbirth yet. “Anyway, this music is much more suitable for bedtime. If it doesn’t put you to sleep, I don’t know what will.”
