by Cari Quinn
At the silence that extended, he chanced a look at Fred and found him smiling.
“That’s much better. I have to say, those weak answers you gave me at first had me worried. I trust Leelee’s judgment but you weren’t giving me much to work with, boy.”
Before Nick could process all that he’d said, Fred rose and moved to the door, then called down the hall. “Laverne, could you come in here, please?”
Nick scratched the back of his neck as he snapped the box shut and pushed it back in his pocket. He promptly pulled it back out again, because hello, Fred wasn’t summoning Laverne for a square dance. Or hoe-down. Or whatever they did when they blared country music and people linked arms and kicked up shiny boots.
Shit, he’d probably need to dance for the wedding.
He’d already dragged out his phone and typed in ‘dance lessons available south of Mulholland Drive’ when Laverne marched in and grabbed his arm. He gawked at her until she held out her doughy hand. Literally doughy. The woman seemed to wear a light dust of flour at all times.
“Let me see the ring.”
Nick placed the box in her hand and she tipped back the lid. And gasped.
That was a good sign, right?
“Black pearls and rubies and diamonds. This is exquisite.” Laverne raised her head and pinned him with a look that made his fingers spasm around his phone. “You love my Leelee.”
“Yes. With all my heart.”
“Good. Then yes, you may marry our girl. Preferably soon, because she wants babies.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she cocked her head, eyes narrowing shrewdly. “Unless that’s a problem for you, Nicholas.”
Her usage of his full first name made him grin in spite of everything. It was such a Lila move, and hell, he had to admit he was damn fond of Laverne. She’d created the world’s most perfect woman as far as he could tell. And he still thought that after months of living with her daughter, including when she had PMS.
No doubt about it, he was done for.
“No, it’s not a problem.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been reading up.”
Laverne’s brow furrowed. “Reading up on what?”
“You know, pregnancy, exactly how it works.” Nick circled his fingers. “The process.”
“Boy, if you don’t know the process by now, maybe we should rethink this whole marriage thing.”
“Shh, Fred.” Nick raised an eyebrow as Laverne giggled like a teenager. “Not every man is as natural of a learner as you were.”
Nick grimaced. His good feelings immediately started circling the crapper as thoughts of Lila’s parents doing the nasty infiltrated his brain.
He was ready to be done with the talking portion of the evening, thanks. The celebration part could start anytime now.
Preferably naked celebrating because his balls were shades of blue no man should ever endure.
“Laverne, do you mind giving me and the boy a few minutes alone?”
“Sure thing.” Laverne returned the ring to Nick and smiled indulgently when he clasped her hand. “Don’t worry. He likes you.”
“How can you tell?” Nick asked more than a little fearfully.
“No chew marks on your throat yet. But these marks…” She traced a finger over the cut on his cheek. “You need to be seen to. I’d offer, but I’m sure Leelee will once she’s back.”
“If she ever comes back,” he muttered, instead of the ‘I can see to myself’ that was on the tip of his tongue. Truth was, he’d rather if Lila dressed his wounds and gave him a few stern looks while she kissed away his aches.
Besides, he’d so be down with seeing Li in a nurse’s outfit.
“She’ll be back soon enough. Thank you for loving our daughter.” Before he could speak, she swept him up in a hug. “We always wanted a son.”
Stunned, moved, beyond speech in every way, he swallowed hard. And searched for his voice. “What about Martin?”
It wasn’t Laverne who answered, but Fred. “He lied to us. Lied to Leelee, and that’s worse. You aren’t anything like him. What you lack in polish you make up for in honesty. I’ll take honesty any day.”
“Me too.” Laverne smoothed Nick’s hair away from his brow. “Now that isn’t to say we won’t kick your ass if you dare hurt her. Even a little bit.”
Nick’s lips quirked. “Understood. I won’t. I’ll try not to,” he corrected as Laverne’s steady gaze roamed his face. There was no telling fibs to those perceptive blue eyes.
Lila’s eyes.
“I believe you, or else we’d never give you our blessing.”
“You are? Blessing me, I mean?” Nick glanced from her to Lila’s father. “Or does that come after he reads me the riot act?”
Laverne laughed and patted his back before she released him. “No, you’re already blessed. No riot act needed if you never made it past the threshold.”
Stepping back, she dusted off her hands. “Whelp, I’m back to my pies. We’re a bit behind what we need for tonight.”
Nick winced and tucked the ring box into his pocket. “About that—”
Laverne waved him off. “You’re a growing boy. Just make sure you keep your fingers off the new ones until our guests eat their fill. Happy Acres is known for satisfying appetites, not sending people home hungry.”
“Yes, ma’am.” On impulse, he leaned in to hug her again. “Thank you,” he said, low enough that only she could hear.
She smiled and left him alone with her husband.
Fred pointed at the bed. “Sit.”
Nick sat.
“When do you plan on having this ceremony?”
Nick frowned. “I don’t know. I kinda figured Lila would figure out that stuff. She’s the girl.”
“No kidding.” Fred rolled his eyes. “Are you thinking sooner or later?”
“Sooner. Definitely sooner. We’re going back on the road as soon as we finish cutting the album, and I’m thinking that’ll be by fall at the latest. We haven’t been apart more than twelve hours for the past year. Any trips Li had to take, I went with her.” Nick rubbed at the layer of calluses on his index finger. So many hours of work had gone into those ridges. He’d earned them.
Once they’d been a badge of pride. Now they just reminded him that he had more in his life than Oblivion. More than just his guitar to keep him going.
“I want to make our promises before then. So she knows, so she’s absolutely certain, that nothing will ever come between us,” Nick finished quietly.
“You don’t think she knows that already?”
“I hope so. I know we’re on the same page, relationship-wise. But she’s a planner. She wants a family. It’s time I stand up and be that man for her.”
Even as he said it, he heard Deacon’s level voice in his head. He’d spoken about taking one step at a time, which made total sense. Except every single one scared the shit out of Nick.
These weren’t tiny ones. Not baby ones, pardon the expression.
More like huge and life-changing.
He knew less than nothing about how to be responsible for someone other than himself. Even back when Simon partied his ass off and needed a keeper, the responsibility of dragging his drunk ass home and pouring him into bed had most often fallen to Deak. Nick had precisely zero good role models to look up to as far as how to be a caretaker for someone who depended on him.
His mother? She’d stuck around until her kids were in second grade, then she’d split faster than a tree under an ax. His father? Yeah right. He’d been a decent dad until Nick’s mother had left. After that, he’d fallen completely apart. So what if his young kids had no one else? He’d been present in spirit if not in mind or heart, and he’d put food on the table.
Nick and Ricki had grown up leaning on each other, until eventually Ricki had found something else to support her. Something destructive.
So he’d turned to music to hold himself up.
Li didn’t need some artificial prop. She was so strong, so capa
ble in every way. She wasn’t one of those women who couldn’t make a decision on her own. On the contrary. In the time it took Nick to blink, Lila could take over the world.
Fuck, he admired her. And he loved her. Spending the rest of his life with her would be an honor. As for the rest of what came with that—if the cards shook out that way for them—well, one step at a time.
One breath at a time.
“My parents didn’t give me a lot to look up to,” Nick said into the silence. “Not making excuses, that’s just fact. I have no idea what it means to make a commitment to a kid for eighteen years. To begin to think I could have any answers for them.”
“But you have no problem making a lifetime commitment to my daughter.”
“It’s different. She doesn’t need me like that.”
Fred lifted a brow. “No?”
“No. Of course not. You’ve seen her. She’s ten times more organized and competent than I am. She handles rock bands, for fu—freak’s sake. Most rockers are basically overgrown man-children and she doesn’t even break a sweat when dealing with them. Do you know what I called her?”
“Hmm?”
“I mean before we got together. Dragon Lady. She’s so terrifyingly efficient. I’m pretty sure she could kill someone without damaging her manicure.”
To Nick’s shock, Fred let out a laugh. “That’s our Leelee.”
“A child is different. They want things. They need things. So many needs. I don’t know if I’m up to the job. To be honest, if Li wasn’t so dead set on having them, I’m not sure I’d ever even think about it.”
“But you are, because she is.”
Nick nodded.
“And you know this because you discussed it with her.”
“Sort of. We kind of dance around it. Martin was such a fucking bastard—sorry,” Nick said immediately.
Fred waved him off. “He is. I agree. Continue.”
“I just don’t want her to miss out on something that matters that much to her. I love her enough to give her whatever she wants.”
“Including your sperm.”
Nick jerked a shoulder. “I have extra.”
Fred laughed again. “I like you, Nicholas. I didn’t expect to.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t. I’m pretty much any father’s worst nightmare. I’d never let my daughter near a guy in a band.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh yeah, that’s so. They’re a bunch of horny assholes. Pardon my French.”
“But not you, of course.”
Wisely, Nick remained silent.
“Here’s what I see. I see that you’re dedicated to my daughter and you believe in being honest, so you’re insistent on not saying you’re ready for something you may not be. But here’s a secret, son—none of us are ready. I wasn’t ready the day I bought this farm. I couldn’t see the length of the road ahead of me. That turned out to be a good thing. How many of us would turn back if we knew exactly how many bumps and potholes lay ahead? But that would be a mistake. The best journeys start with no destination.”
Nick exhaled. He was pretty sure a helluva lot of good information had just been tossed his way, but he’d only clearly heard one word. “You called me son.”
“I did. Make sure you’re worthy of it.”
“My dad died hating me. So that means…it means a lot, sir. So yes, I will.” He took a breath, and another. “I will.”
Nodding, Fred rose. “You intend on taking Lola’s collar off that rangy mutt?”
“Yes. Sure.”
“You plan on keeping him.”
Not a question. Maybe Nick was more transparent than he thought. “Yeah, he’s not so bad after you clean him up. Though he might need pie rehab.”
“Laverne’s pies are the best in the state.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that. She’s the best in whole northeast. Probably the country.”
Fred clapped his shoulder. “Now you’re talking. But you’re still not copping any more pie.”
Nick laughed and moved toward the mutt, who sidled that much closer to a peacefully snoozing Lola. “I think I’m good for a while.”
“Wait until she unveils her newest creation. Apple-mango.” Fred sighed in what could only be termed orgasmic ecstasy. Yeah, gross, not going there.
Though…pie.
“I’ll see if I can sweet-talk a piece.”
“You do that. And start thinking about land. Leelee wants a horse of her own out there in that California.” He said the word California as if it were a communicable disease.
“A horse? And a baby?” Nick couldn’t nod fast enough. “A horse is totally doable. Uh, you know what I mean.”
Fred chuckled and strolled out of the room, leaving Nick to deal with the dogs.
Instead he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Li, who still was missing-in-action.
NC: I’m not naming our horse Mr. Ed.
11
Margo
“Time to go, Simon.”
“You go. I’ll stay here and recover,” Simon mumbled into the mattress.
Margo had a little extra spring in her step as she zipped up her boot, then reached for her belt on the edge of the bed. “No, we’re here to see our friends.”
Simon grunted.
“I can’t help it if you started with fists. Now, you have to say you’re sorry.”
“Like hell.” He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand.
“It’s Christmas.”
He collapsed onto his pillow. “Why does everyone think Christmas makes everything better?”
“Because it’s a time of forgiveness and family. And these people are your family. They’re my family. And I’ve let you wallow long enough.”
“Wallow?” He sat up. “What the hell does that mean?”
She pulled her cardigan closer as she crossed her arms. A second ago, she was feeling light and limber from a spectacular round of lovemaking, now…those accusing eyes were killing her buzz. The eggshells she’d been tiptoeing around were cracking all over the damn place.
She didn’t want this week to be any more strained, but she was so tired of this Simon. She wanted her Simon back. The one who lived life to the fullest, and swung from the lighting fixtures at a show.
This buttoned up one had glimmers of the man she fell in love with, but she was damn tired of him hiding. Even worse, she was tired of allowing it. No more.
Her stomach quivered, and her chest ached. “It means you need to get your ass out of that bed and fix things with Nick, and with the band. But we’ll start with Nick first.”
“I don’t need to fix jack shit.”
“Oh?” She touched her eye where his shiner was. “Really?”
“That’s how we work shit out.”
“Right. So, that means a ton more bruises? Or maybe a broken bone this time?”
“For fuck’s sake, Margo.” He swung his legs off the bed. A bouquet of bruises dotted his side and hip.
Part of her wanted to go and coddle. She knew he was hurting—could tell from the way he was moving. But she could see the mad in there too. This was why she hated to say anything. His reaction was always to get pissed off. But it looked like it was time for them to get into it as well. Past time.
She hated confrontation, but if she was actually going to get through to him, she was going to have to be the bad guy. To save them, to save the band, and maybe even save him from himself.
Because she was so afraid that he wasn’t going to get better. Not when she’d found that vodka bottle in the trash.
“You think I don’t see it? The way you stare out the window, and hate everything that you’re doing? That you hide in sleep and mindless photo shoots? Do you honestly think I’m that stupid?”
He stepped into a pair of jeans and hiked them up over his hips. “I’m doing my goddamn job. Keeps a roof over our heads, doesn’t it?”
The urge to take a step back and close off was right there. All of
the things she worried about day in and day out, right there in a few words. “I’d rather live in the Fluff ‘n Fold off my salary than to see you so miserable,” she shouted.
“What are you talking about?”
“You hate this.” She lifted the Armani suit jacket. “You lived for leather and old concert T-shirts. You barely remembered to get a haircut half the time when I met you.” She dropped the jacket then stalked closer to him. “Now, you have designer underwear, jeans, shirts, and even your haircut costs more than mine.”
“I’m doing this for us.” His eyes were a little wild as he crowded into her.
“No, you’re doing this for you. You’re hiding in Roman’s line of clothes and the commercials. You’re bleeding because you won’t sing, goddammit.”
“I can sing just fine,” he roared into her face.
She pushed him back into the wall. “Then do it.”
He looked away from her, his chest heaving.
“Don’t do that. Stop shutting me out.” She dug her fingers into his skin. “Let me help.”
“No one can help,” he snarled.
She backed up, and let him go. “Everyone wants to help you,” she whispered. She would not cry. Not now.
He slipped away from her and into the bathroom. When she heard the lock snick, she closed her eyes against the blur of tears. She grabbed her jacket and left their room, running down the stairs to the front door and out into the snow.
She nearly stumbled down the stairs. The snow had crept up another six inches since they’d been outside. Now it was well past her knees and heading for her thighs.
The house was alight with warm white lights and a fat holly wreath on the side door. A huge snow-flecked gold bow snapped in the wind.
A few hundred yards next to it was the storefront. People milled out of the barn doors that were open and welcoming. Fred and another man were pushing snow away with wide, plastic shovels.
