Ridge

by Scott, S. L.

  Stella screams out, “Oh my God,” just like her sister.

  Oops.

  Meadow’s hand covers her stomach, but she’s beaming. She’s not mad at me and squeezes her arms around me quickly before the women are hugging her again.

  Jet stands with his arms over his chest, shaking his head, but with a big ole grin on his face. “Well fuck me. This is amazing.”

  Alfie pulls a pad and pen from his pocket, and says, “I’m adding to the tally.”

  After another round of celebration, I say, “Looks like the second generation is on its way.”

  43

  Meadow

  Two Months Later . . .

  “How are you doing?” Dave whispers for my ears alone.

  I can’t stand any closer to him. If I could, I would. I didn’t expect to feel so nervous on the red carpet, but I never realized how many paparazzi cram into such a small space to take photos.

  I’m careful not to bite my lip, ruining my lipstick like Nikki advised. I keep my shoulders back like Stella reminded me to do. Head forward on my neck. Rochelle said it would feel unnatural, but I’ll be happier with the pics. Wearing a Vittori original with makeup done by Holli’s team, who made my eye color pop, I try to not squint when the flashes go off, blinding me.

  Holli told me I’ll be the belle of the ball and taught me to stand to show off my great figure. I won’t have it for much longer, so I kick my hip out and anchor my hand on my hip while holding Dave’s arm with the other.

  A reporter stands in front of the group, asking questions. When she asks who I’m wearing, I mention Vinnie and say, “Nikki Faris shoes.” I angle my heel so they get a good shot.

  Nikki’s band is performing tonight like The Crow Brothers to an audience full of legends, including The Resistance. It feels like the whole gang’s here. Faris Wheel ahead of us on the carpet and The Resistance behind us.

  The reporter says, “Ridge, your fans have been dying for an update. Any news on the marriage front?”

  Dave glances at me but leans in and replies, “Some things we’re keeping to ourselves.”

  Anal and we’re pregnant come to mind, making me giggle out of nowhere. I don’t even care because I’m too happy to worry what the rest of the world thinks of me.

  Doesn’t matter how popular you are, you’re old news when another band shows up on a music awards red carpet. As the crowd goes wild for Johnny Outlaw, Holli sends me a little wave.

  I return a smile just before we’re shuffled along. Dave takes my hand and leads me inside. “I’m done out there. Unless it’s about the music, I’m not giving them any part of us.”

  He’s always strived to keep his life private from the media, but now that we’re public and I’m secretly pregnant, he’s become super protective. He makes me feel safe and cared for. I couldn’t ask for more.

  Stella once told me she chose Rivers over an ocean view. I’ve come to understand what she meant. I met Ridge on a wild night in Austin. I fell in lust with him the moment I laid eyes on him.

  But Dave was unexpected. He didn’t just put all my fears at ease; he taught me what real love is.

  When Dave slips his arm around my waist and he holds me close, I breathe easier knowing I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. I snuggle against him and whisper, “Love is being with the man of your dreams.”

  “How do you feel about husband?”

  I run my hands over his shoulders. “I feel very strongly about husband and wife.”

  “I didn’t want to scare you with all the other changes.”

  “Being with you forever doesn’t scare me. The thought of living a life without you does.”

  He kisses the apple of my cheek. “I’ve lived life without you. It’s not living.”

  We hang back when the others start to go in. He takes my hand and leads me to a corner for privacy. Cupping my cheek, he says, “I never thought I’d feel this way about someone, much less be blessed enough to have someone feel this way about me. You’re in my veins, sunshine, shining your light from the inside. You’re ridiculously stubborn, but you usually come around to my side. You’re smart and determined, and so goddamn gorgeous that sometimes I just stare at you because how can I not? But as much as I think you’re pretty and intelligent, it’s your soul and the way it connects with mine that drew me in.” When he kisses me, I hold him, feeling emotional not just from his words but the way he’s looking at me like I hung the moon makes me swoon.

  “You’re everything I never knew I could have—kind, loving, supportive, and giving. You love me with your entire being like I love you. We’re not just a match made in heaven, we were made for eternity.”

  “You’re stealing my lines, sweetheart.”

  Even though he’s already brought tears to my eyes, I cock an eyebrow. “I’m hoping you’re saving the best for last.”

  Chuckling, he says, “I am. Are you ready for it?”

  “So ready. Lay it on me, Mr. Fellowes.”

  He double-checks over his shoulder with a roguish grin. When his eyes land back on mine, my heart’s still fully lodged in my throat, waiting for him to say the words I’ve been dying to hear, he says, “It’s coming. I promise, but this isn’t the time. The show’s starting.”

  This time, I laugh, which takes the edge off the moment and leaves us in the mixed-up bliss. He’s right. The middle of an auditorium lobby when he’s about to perform is probably not the best time or place. But I love that he felt it enough to try.

  Our lips meet once more, and then he says, “It’s a promise you can count on.”

  Very true. The man always keeps his word.

  “And I am counting on it.” Taking his hand, I tug toward the group who’s waiting. Impatiently, I might add. “Let’s go, rock star. You have awards to win.”

  Coming in fast, he practically sweeps me off my feet in his rush to take hold of me. With a strong arm around me, I remain steady. Steady, something that I cherish in all aspects of my life these days. Other than Stella, I could never rely on anyone, but he’s more than proved himself time and time again. So the final question may not have been asked, but I do. I do. I do.

  * * *

  I thought he had to prepare. Buy a ring. Pick the setting. Plan the words he wanted to say.

  I was wrong.

  He was ready.

  As we make love surrounded by gold awards for Album of the Year, Best Song, Top Rock Group, and two others, Dave is buried inside me—emotionally and physically. When he stops moving, he looks at me beneath him, and says, “The night I saw you, talked to you, and kissed you—the night we first met, I knew you were the one I was meant to meet, to love, to honor for the rest of my life. This world had no meaning until you gave me the green that brought me to life. Vivid. Bright. Intense. Brilliant. Light. You gave me what I never knew I needed until you walked into my life with sunshine and cherry cheeks and smiled at me.”

  His body moves effortlessly as he continues to look at me, admire me, love me with all he has to give—body, heart, and soul. Touching his cheek, I want him to talk, to hear what he wants to say. But my body craves his and begs for release. My head tips back, and his delectable lips take to my neck—kissing, sucking, owning—sending me into a fast release. When he chases mine, he falls over the same cliff and then plops down next to me to recover.

  With uneven breaths filling the air of our personal sanctuary, he props himself up on an elbow and takes the hand I had resting across my chest. Kissing each finger and then my palm, he reaches under his pillow and pulls a small velvet box out.

  “I never want to spend another moment without you. But neither of us is that naïve. I’ll have to tour and travel, but when you can, I want you with me. And when you can’t, you’ll always be inside me. No more detours. I love you, Meadow Soleil Fellowes, so I beg of you to make me the happiest man and become my wife.”

  Choked up with tears threatening to fall, I whisper, “You shoot straight to the heart, Dave Carson.”

  �
�I know what I want—I want to spend this life with you. Will you marry me?”

  “I want that too.” I sit up while he slips an emerald cut diamond ring onto my finger. I don’t let the worry of how much he spent sink in. From the house to the bank accounts, he’s already added my name. I’ve not looked at any numbers, but knowing how much he trusts me, I don’t have to. What’s his is mine, and what’s mine is his. Equals, as it should be. It’s a strength I’ve found in our partnership and in our love. Not reliance, but because together, we are stronger.

  We kiss, and my bottom lip is plucked when we pull back. He says, “Say it, sunshine.”

  Happily ever always. “I’ll marry you, rock star.”

  Four Months Later

  Sometimes life comes full circle at the most unexpected times, times we may not be prepared for or maybe we are . . .

  “You look beautiful, Stella. Your bump is so adorable.”

  She turns sideways and tilts her head, analyzing her changing body in the full-length mirror. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I wouldn’t let you wear something that didn’t look good. But I’ll be honest, you look annoyingly good in everything.” Standing up, I walk over to the mirror and turn sideways, rubbing over my own growing belly. “I have about five minutes until I’m back in that bathroom vomiting. Please tell me it gets better.”

  “I’m only a month ahead, so I can’t give you wise advice, and as you know, my pregnancy hasn’t been too bad. I think you’re having a boy.”

  My mouth drops open. “I don’t know anything about boys other than they’re messy.”

  She laughs, holding her belly. “At least you can afford help to clean up after them.”

  “Jeez, thanks.”

  A gasp is heard, and we both turn toward the sound. Standing not ten feet away from us in the middle of the Beverly Hills Vittori store is our mother. Not looking like she’s aged a day since we last saw her years ago, a smile tinges her eyes but doesn’t move a muscle in her face.

  I don’t recognize the man whose arm she’s clinging to. It’s not the one she left our father for and not the one who insisted she cut ties with us. It’s a much older man in a navy jacket and white pants as if he’s just stepped off his yacht.

  Vinnie breaks the silent standoff when he comes out with a purple dress draped over his arms. “I think this one will be stunning, Stella.” His gaze darts around the room, taking in the scene, and he asks, “What is happening?”

  I reply, “That’s our mother.”

  This time, he gasps. Bending toward my ear, he shields his mouth with his hand and asks, “The mother that left. She just walked in?”

  “Apparently, and she can hear you.”

  “Well, that’s a weird coincidence. Oh, I just realized this is not the dress I meant to bring out. I’ll be right back.” He turns on his heel and hightails it back out of the main showroom. I’m pretty sure he’s not coming back.

  Daphne Fello—actually, I’m not sure what her name is anymore—slowly wades through the years of pain she caused us while looking at each of us like she’s seeing herself in a mirror. Unlike the pain, we can’t hide our looks away. We do resemble her on the outside, but our insides are of our own making, filled with the love of family.

  She releases the man and holds her arms out. “My beautiful—” She catches herself and glances at the man next to her. “It’s good to see you.”

  Neither of us makes a move. The lack of response seems to throw her off guard, but then her gaze lowers to the stomachs we have a protective hand over, and she sighs in disappointment. “If nothing else, I thought you would have learned—”

  Holding my hands up, I have to stop her from saying another word. I will not allow her poison to infect another second or part of my life or Stella’s. “We did learn. We learned to love despite the hate we were taught. We learned to appreciate family, and if you’re lucky, that includes friends.”

  Stella says, “We learned to love ourselves instead of being ashamed of our past.” She smiles and rubs her belly. “But most of all, we learned the power of true love, and the magic that creates.” She turns away from her, this time admiring herself in the mirror. “This is the dress. Rivers will love it on me, and that’s all that matters.”

  “I agree,” I reply, keeping my eyes on my sister.

  Wordlessly, our mother stands just a few feet away but doesn’t move. She only stares at us almost like she doesn’t even recognize us. I understand her reaction. We’re not the same girls she once knew. We’re the women who rose from the ashes of our pain, the pain she set in motion, and we are thriving.

  But my heart still aches. I bite my lip to keep from saying anything more. I don’t owe her anything, not even my words. We weren’t the ones who left. She left us, tossing us and her relationship with us away for a better opportunity, for financial gain.

  Stella and I watch as our mother begins to slink out of the store, but she stops before she reaches the door, and says, “I travel. It’s hard to keep in touch. I don’t have email—”

  My big sister says, “It’s okay.” Her eyes never deviate away from me. I’m not sure if she’s responding to our mother or comforting me. Either way, there’s a sense of finality.

  Like Stella, I don’t have a hard heart. We’d welcome her back into our lives if she were genuine and actually cared. Clearly, she’s not there yet.

  I don’t need her to make a disingenuous effort. I have family who do care for me. I have family who love me and who I love in return.

  Stepping up beside my sister, I embrace her . . . because we hug family.

  Epilogue

  Ridge

  Six Months Later . . .

  I dropped my bag by the door and carefully reset the alarm. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I make my way to the kitchen guided by moonlight exposing the vast view.

  Starving, I open the fridge and find a plate labeled Rock Star sitting on the shelf. My wife’s got jokes. I pull the plate out and unwrap it. She’s also become quite the cook. Or maybe she always was, but we were stuck in a rut of ordering out and eating junk food. She worries about my health, wanting to grow old and gray with me.

  I set the plate in the microwave and get that going while getting a glass of water.

  “Hey, you,” she whispers from the corner of the kitchen.

  My heart always stops for a few beats when I see her—my angel, my goddess, my personal Aphrodite. As always, she revives me with a smile. My gaze drops lower to our sweet baby girl, Willow, cradled in her mother’s arms.

  The microwave beeps, but I go to my girls. Kissing Meadow, I then whisper, “I missed you.”

  “We missed you, too.”

  Trained well, I pump antibacterial gel on my hands and rub them together before tapping her little nose lightly. Willow doesn’t stir. She’s like me and appreciates her sleep.

  Meadow places Willow in my arms, and at two months old, she’s still the tiniest thing I’ve ever seen, much less held. She seems even smaller in my arms compared to Meadow’s. But I hold her as carefully as I can, choking up every time I have this honor. The only other time I get affected like this is when I watch Willow snuggled securely in my mom’s arms. To see her healthy again, growing stronger, and holding my daughter . . . it’s a miracle.

  Meadow tucks a corner of her blanket in, admiring what our love created. “I don’t think Lisa set her down today except when your dad was holding her. He’s such a softie when it comes to her, like he is with your mom.”

  Both of them have become wonderful parents to Meadow, stepping in and loving her unconditionally . . . as if that wasn’t possible. But as grandparents? They dote. They love. They are proud. As for my dad, he’s come to three of our concerts since Meadow’s graduation. Another miracle.

  “I feel like I have to sneak time with her in the middle of the night.” Her laughter is light, so she doesn’t wake Willow. “What a lucky little girl to be surrounded by so much love.” I’m the lucky one. She looks
up at me, and asks, “How was the show?”

  “Good.”

  “And the flight?”

  I glance up at her and smile. “I’m glad to be home.”

  “Me too.” She kisses my bicep as she moves around and gets my plate out of the microwave. “I’m sure you’re tired. Go sit. I’ll warm this up for you.”

  Remembering the boxes in my bag, I say, “I have something for you. I’ll go get it.”

  The microwave is the only sound in the house as I walk back to my bag and dig out two turquoise boxes. When I return to the kitchen, I set them on the marble counter. She eyes them, but waits for the microwave to finish before saying, “You know I don’t need gifts. I have more than I could ever need, and my life is like living a dream because of you and Willow.”

  “I like to buy you things. It’s never about the money. Just saw it and thought of you.” I lean against the counter and look down at the baby who’s sleeping soundly. “If it helps, it wasn’t expensive, and I bought a matching one for our daughter to have some day.”

  “Now you’ve made me curious.”

  Quietly, she takes one in hand and analyzes it. “Open it,” I say. She is the worst to spoil because she legit doesn’t want for anything. So everything has to be a surprise. The payoff is that she’s always so grateful, and I reap the rewards.

  The box is opened, and tissue hides the gift inside. When that’s removed, she smiles. “This is a compact?”

  “It is. I once saw you use a toaster to check your makeup. I thought this was handier.”

  Her expression is one of love, one I’ve earned one kiss and day at a time. “You remember everything.” For almost being two in the morning, her smile could rival the midday sun. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She comes to me and kisses my jaw before leaning her head on my shoulder. With her arm around my back and mine wrapped around her, together we watch the baby sleep.