by Cora Kenborn
“Damn it, Bale!” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Your kid is very pissed right now because you’ve delayed lunch. I hope you’re happy with yourself.” She made her way down the hall, closing the door behind her.
Why was it such a matter of life and death to me to marry her before I left? I’d had no intention of proposing when the words came flying out of my mouth—then they kept coming out like some kind of matrimonial Tourette’s. Strange thing was I didn’t want to take them back. Marriage had always scared me, but saying the words to Phoebe made me realize it was exactly what I wanted.
Phoebe mumbled an expletive as she reentered the room, holding a hardened honey bun package. She ripped it apart with both hands anxiously. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught my stare and narrowed her gaze.
“I’d think before I made some overtly sexual comment right now if I were you.” With a lift of her eyebrows, she shoved half of it in her mouth, swooshing the pastry around her cheeks.
“That’s nasty.” I laughed.
“Do not judge pregnancy hunger, Julian. It’s not safe for your boys.”
I patted the space next to me. “Get your ass back in bed. We’re being released in a few hours, and I’ll take you to a real restaurant for real food that isn’t fossilized.”
She snuggled in next to me and rested her head on my chest “Smart-ass.”
***
The minute we stepped foot into the crowded restaurant, I knew all hell would break loose. I had to chuckle at my own naïveté. Even though New York was the town of stars, where A-listers walked among commoners in perfect harmony, usually no one was too star struck.
Today I was wrong.
Swarms of female fans appeared around me like moths. Some grabbed napkins and meal receipts for me to sign, some grabbed their cell phones and snapped pictures, but all were more desperate than the next to garner attention. I watched as Phoebe slowly backed away, her hands instinctively flying across her stomach.
Why did it have to be such a big production to just have breakfast? I couldn’t help a low snort as I answered my own question. Because I was the front man of Lords of Lyre. It’d always be this way. This was my life. And if she chose to be with me…it would be hers.
“Phoebe, baby, come on.” I attempted to smile and pull her away from the buzzing crowd of onlookers. With a forceful tug, I managed to guide her into the chair. Sliding into my own chair, I handed her a menu.
After we ordered, she remained tight-lipped for fifteen minutes as another swarm of fans invaded our table, sitting quietly until they’d all gone. A few moments of silence gave me the courage to say what I really wanted to since we left the hospital. I’d just opened my mouth when the plates were set in front of us. As I unscrewed the tiny syrup bottle and dumped it on my pancakes, an idea hit me.
Ripping the top rim off the syrup bottle, I looked at her as I held it tightly in the palm of my hand. “So you never answered me.”
“What do you mean?” she asked with her mouth full.
“When I asked you to marry me.”
Closing her eyes, Phoebe sighed and put down her fork. Finally, she opened them and leveled a stare at me. “Julian, c’mon, it’s just crazy! We’ve only known each other a few months.”
“Phoebe, what’s crazy is you acting like we’re pen pals. You’re having my baby for Christ’s sake. I think that negates the whole obligatory dating phase, don’t you?”
“But why marriage? Why can’t we just be us? No rules, no expectations—”
“No commitment,” I finished for her, throwing my own fork down. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”
Picking her fork back up, she shoved it in my face. “Look, Bale, only one of us gets to be the moody, hormonal bitch around here, and by default, I win.” She raised her voice. “Getting married? I’m pregnant, Julian! That’s about as committed as I think it gets. We have this person coming who’s gonna depend on us for everything. I don’t need some stupid ring on my finger, or some stupid preacher saying some stupid words to tell me I’m committed, you got that?”
Her voice had climbed to a screech by the time she’d finished her rant as she kneeled on the booth and jabbed her fork into my chest. Smiling, I took my phone out of my pocket and began dialing.
“And just what the hell are you’re doing?”
“I’m calling my mom and Ryker to tell them the good news.”
“Are you deaf, Julian? I told you no!” she said, looking bewildered.
“Princess, during your pregzilla meltdown, did you neglect to notice the herd of paparazzi perched over near the wall of shrubbery?”
With horror in her eyes, she looked over the wall and her face sank. “Oh fuck.”
“Yes, oh fuck is right. And since you decided to announce, very loudly, to the entire restaurant that you’re pregnant, and we’re getting married, I can guarantee a new installment of ‘Phulian Watch’ is being printed. My mom reads that column like crack. I’m intercepting before she reads about it and calls to rip me a new asshole.”
“I’m such a dumbass,” Phoebe said, dropping her head into the crook of her arm.
I pulled her forearm away from her body. “Yes, but you’re my dumbass and I’m going to marry you if it’s the last fucking thing I do.”
“Oh, Julian.” She batted her eyelashes sarcastically. “Every girl dreams of the day she’s proposed to by being told she’s a dumbass.”
“Give me your hand.”
“Excuse me?” she said, dipping her chin.
“God, stop arguing about everything and just give me your hand.” She gave me her hand, and I opened my palm, taking the plastic ring I’d popped off the syrup mini bottle and held it up to her face. “This is a pre-engagement, completely worthless, black plastic band. It means I won’t pressure you any more today.”
“Thank you—”
“I said today. But once I put this on, it stays, you got me? The only time you take it off is when I put the real one on, capisce?”
A small smile swirled around her lips. “Capisce.”
I cleared my throat. “Phoebe Ryan, will you continue to illegally borrow other people’s cyber secrets and write scandalous stories about me on public forums, even when I throw a tantrum? Will you wear my piece-of-shit syrup ring?”
The full grin that broke out across her face was one I hadn’t seen since we’d traded barbs on the skeet-shooting range. I’d missed that Phoebe, and I was ecstatic to have her back.
She nodded. “Yes, Julian. I’ll wear your piece-of-shit syrup ring.”
Just as I pushed the plastic on the third finger of her left hand, a light flashed and a photographer jumped behind the shrubbery wall with frightening agility. He wasn’t quick enough, though. I’d fucking recognize that jerk-off goatee anywhere.
“You don’t have to dive bomb the ficus, Chad. I’m not going to attack you.”
With catlike precision, he rose from behind the tree and lifted an eyebrow. “I can’t afford another memory card right now, Bale. And, it’s Ollie.”
“Keep your picture, Chad. Just do something worthwhile with the money.”
He backed away as if he didn’t believe a word out of my mouth and narrowed his eyes. Guarding his camera with his life, he nodded in Phoebe’s direction. “Whatever. Oh, by the way, happy birthday, Phoebe.”
With that, he was gone.
I turned around and gaped at her. “It’s your birthday?” I should know this. I memorized every pertinent piece of information the internet had to offer.
Her eyes widened and then she shrugged. “Is it October twenty-eighth already? With everything going on, I totally forgot. Birthdays aren’t a huge deal to me. I never had parties growing up. A cupcake from Mom was usually the extent of the celebration.”
I stared in disbelief. “You’ve never had a party?”
“There was never any money for that stuff. Plus, Dad would’ve just gotten drunk and embarrassed me anyway. None of the parents would let their kids spend the
night at my house. I guess they knew about my dad.”
“But it’s your birthday,” I protested.
The corners of her mouth turned downward, and her voice dropped to a sad whisper. “Seriously, Julian, it’s not a big deal. Especially since Halloween falls three days afterward. My father’s surprise parents’ weekend at Dreighton kind of ruined the day for me. So I’m twenty-three. Big whoop.”
Without a word, we both dug back into our breakfast. I had to leave in four days. But this time was different. I had someone to come home to afterward.
And that someone had twenty-three years of celebrating to reclaim.
Chapter Forty-Two
Phoebe
A week later, Julian came back from California acting extremely suspicious. Supposedly we were going to dinner, but he wanted to surprise me, so he blindfolded me. Before he pulled me out of the cab I could hear loud, pounding music.
I scrunched my mouth together and tilted my head to the side. “Did you seriously bring me to a bar? Are you trying to torture me?”
“Do I look like I’m into torture?” he said, amused
“I don’t know. I can’t look at anything.” The chuckle from above me turned my attention to what I assumed was his face. “Is the blindfold really necessary, Bale?” Reaching up take his tie from around my head, he quickly slapped my fingers away and readjusted its position.
“Hell yeah, it is. I’m enjoying this.” He laughed. Before I could retort, his strong arms pulled me out of the car and to my feet. Slipping a protective arm around my waist, he leaned in close and walked me forward.
The music grew louder and a chorus of laughter and multiple conversations filled the air. We were definitely at a bar. After a few more power strides, we came to a halt again at an entrance. The music was almost deafening and the clanging of glasses and high-pitched laughter permeated the air. He ushered me through a doorway, and a thick and raspy voice filled my ears.
“We were wondering when you’d get here, brother. The natives are restless.”
Julian turned away, dropping his voice to a whisper. He tried to talk without letting me in on the conversation, so, obviously, I leaned in further to concentrate on what was being said. Trying to make sense of every third word drove me crazy.
“Yes…here…ready…everything done…”
“C’mon, baby.” He grabbed my hand off of my hip and pulled me inside another room. Fingers slid up my back and pushed the tie down my face. The instant the blindfold fell from my eyes, his lips dusted against the outer rim of my ear. “Surprise, princess. Happy birthday.”
There were people crowded together, shoulder to shoulder and drink to drink. Narrowing my eyes, I scanned the room. We were at Club Vanquish—the quintessential scene of the crime. A few faces I recognized, a few I didn’t.
“Julian, how…”
He nodded toward a table. “Come with me.”
As we neared the crowded table, a sea of familiar faces smiled back at me. Before I knew it, I was swept up into strong arms and pulled against a hard chest.
“It’s a party, baby doll, so why the puss-face?” Gage stepped back and gave me an appreciative perusal and joked about my non-existent belly. “Whoa, Pheebs, did you swallow a beach ball in the hospital or are you just happy to see me?”
A slow grin spread across my face, and I threw myself into his waiting arms. “Well, obviously I’m just happy to see you, Gage.”
He flashed a megawatt grin as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Keep your voice down, Blogosphere Daily might snap a picture.”
As I laughed, a hand pulled me backward into waiting arms. Julian’s voice purred strong yet lighthearted. “Hands off, Harlow. This one is permanently off limits.”
Gage kissed my cheek and winked. “She doesn’t have the right equipment anyway. Right, Pheebs?” The Castellano joke seemed like years ago and made me laugh.
Turning my head, I whispered to Julian, his green eyes dancing in the dimly lit room. “How in the hell did you do all of this?”
A wicked grin spread across his face as he glanced behind me moments before small hands covered my eyes.
“Phoebe!”
I’d know that voice anywhere.
“No fucking way!” Tearing the hands from my eyes, I whipped around and let out a shriek that made Julian wince. “Faith!” I threw my arms around her. “I can’t believe this! How in the hell—oh my god. Why are you here?”
Overwhelmed, I stepped back to look at her. It’d been three years, but she hadn’t changed. Still tall, lean, and tanned—long blond hair framed her angelic face. We’d roomed together the three short months I’d spent at Dreighton University, and she stayed by my side at the hospital like a sister, until she returned to Charleston.
I’d never allowed myself to get close to any other female after that. No one seemed trust-worthy enough and…no one was Faith. We’d spoken on the phone a lot those first few months after the attack. As time passed, the calls became few and far between, until they stopped.
Her smile widened, and she nodded toward Julian. “I have to admit that it took a few moments to get over the shock of getting a phone call from Julian Bale. I swore it was someone fucking with me.”
Julian pouted. “She used a few four-letter words that made me blush, too.”
“How in the hell did you find her?” I screamed, lightly swatting his arm.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You called her, princess. I just swiped your phone and stole the number. It wasn’t any James Bond-type shit.”
“It isn’t every day you get a phone call from a rock star,” Faith said, giving my hand a squeeze. “I’ve got to hear the story about how you landed him. Of course, I’m not surprised, you always had men falling at your feet.”
“I don’t think I want to hear this, so I’m going to make sure Zane isn’t harassing unsuspecting waitresses,” Julian said, giving me a departing kiss and winking at Faith. “I’ll be stealing her back.”
He walked away as Faith’s eyes widened. “I get a call out of the blue that you want hacker info and that’s it? I hear no more updates—then this? Seriously, Pheebs, he flies me out of LA, first class with a few days’ notice, then he tells me y’all are having a baby?”
I hugged her again. “Let’s just say it’s been a long road that thankfully has a happy ending. I want to be with Julian and finally be normal.”
“There’s nothing normal about living with Bale boys, I can tell you that.”
Heart in my throat, I spun around and came face-to-face with familiar green eyes. It was Eliza Bale, Julian’s mom. He’d forced us into an impromptu phone conversation at the restaurant. Her voice was distinctive, and I’d seen her picture in Julian’s house.
“Wow, you’re here too? When did he do all of this?”
She gave me a light kiss on the cheek, her eyes lowering to my stomach. “He called me this morning and said, well, let me get his words correct, to get my damn ass in the car with my other son, or he’d have the NYPD come pick us up.”
“Ryker’s here too?”
Looking haphazardly around the room, she threw her arm in the air. “He’s here somewhere. No doubt announcing to the club that he’s Julian’s brother and the second coming for Lords of Lyre. For all of his bitching, he doesn’t mind using it as a pickup line.”
Faith giggled and Eliza focused her attention on my belly again “Are you feeling okay, Phoebe?”
“Yes,” I said honestly. The question burned inside of me to ask. “Does that mean that you’re happy, Eliza?”
“Happy? Phoebe, the son I know is back. I didn’t recognize him the past year, and you came into his life and brought him back to us. I’m ecstatic.”
That was it, the faucet turned on and the tears rolled down my face. I had no idea how long we stood like that, both Eliza and I sharing a private moment.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but you’re being summoned.” We turned to see Ryker standing there, the same Bale smil
e dancing across his face. Past him, Julian motioned me forward.
Never letting go of his stare, I walked toward his table and he pulled me down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around my waist and crying out in mock pain. “Damn, woman, you’re like a ton of bricks now.”
“Watch it,” I warned with a smile.
Julian made fingertip trails around the outside circle of my belly, and his eyes intently followed multiple conversations that occurred around the table.
Zane and Faith were engrossed in a master game of who was the bigger flirt, and Ryker, Gage, Parker, and Nate argued through a pathetically doomed game of pool. Jaxon proudly brought out pictures of his four-year-old son, showing them off to Eliza and Helena while they cooed over his mop of blond hair and toothy grin. Ty sat back, alone, and took it all in while eyeing everyone cautiously. The corners of his mouth still turned downward after his best friend’s betrayal.
Turning my attention back to Julian, our eyes collided with a smoldering stare so entrancing I felt my heart skip a beat. “What’s that look for, Bale?”
“What look?” he asked.
“The one that makes me think there’s more that you’re not telling me?”
“You look beautiful.”
My mouth tilted up. “Thank you, but you’re avoiding my question.”
He blinked with mock innocence. “What question was that?”
“You heard me.”
He pointed to his ears and closed one eye, peering up at me with the other. “Nope, can’t hear anything—loud music.” He picked up his glass with his free hand and brought it to his lips as Ryker held up his hand in protest.
“Wait…hold on!”
Pausing with the glass against his mouth, he quirked an eyebrow at his brother and mumbled something incoherent against the crystal. Raising his own glass into the air, Ryker pushed his chair back and lifted his lanky body to a standing position. Directing his glance at us, he raised his hand high and cleared his throat.
“It has been a…well…I guess you could say, very different year for our family. I thought Julian had it all as a kid. I swear my brother could fall into a pile of shit and come out smelling like a rose.”
