Guess what? This is not the last chapter. At least one more. Probably two because I want you to "see" the things that I have "seen"...
Speaking of things I've seen, here's a picture of what I think Ollie looks like:
Ashlynn
When I wake for the second morning in my childhood bed, it's bittersweet. The purple comforter and large fuzzy pillows are familiar, but not nearly the comfort I crave.
Leed didn't show yesterday. He sent me several texts checking in, but for the second night in a row he stayed at Bodie's house. I miss him, and I'm starting to worry that maybe he's a little more angry than I realized. He hasn't been this distant in yearsânot since we were at odds over Viggo Von Schlater.
But despite my worry I smile, because I am not alone in this bed. Even though I'm missing Leed's arms, a part of Leed is with me.
I roll onto my back and put my hands on my lower belly, closing my eyes, going internal.
Good morning, Little Mango. It's a beautiful day, and I promise that I will spend it in joy, so you can feel that, too. Have to tell you though, I already made my very first mistake as your Mommy. I upset your Daddy by not telling him about you right away. But don't worry. I know he will forgive me, because he's pretty special and he loves really big. He's going to love you so much. It's going to be a very long thirty weeks for him until he gets to meet you, I think. For me, too. I can't wait to hold you in my arms. But for now, this is as much of a hug as I can give you.
I pat gently. "Let's go do some yoga, okay?" I say brightly as I throw the covers back.
My dad knocks and cracks the door. "Kat in there with you?"
"No, she stayed at the bandhouse. You can come in, though."
He opens the door and looks around. "Who were you talking to?"
I blush. "Uhhm, the baby. I know he can't actually hear yet. Is that weird?"
My handsome father, from whom I get my blonde, blue-eyed looks, grins and shakes his head. "No, not at all. It's a good habit." He looks at my mid-section. "You'll be a wonderful mom, Sweetheart. Not that you aren't already a mother, I suppose..."
I swipe my phone and show him my cover photo of Leed and three year old Ollie, getting his first guitar lesson from his dad. "Yeah, I love that little stinker. I do feel like Ollie's step-mom. I've been in his life since the day he was born. I didn't know if you saw it like that, though. You know, because Leed and I aren't married."
"Not yet," my father smiles serenely.
I bite my lip. "Dad, that's probably not going to happen, you know." I gesture around my affluent bedroom. "He didn't grow up like this. He doesn't feel a need to...follow convention. I'm pretty sure he thinks the act of getting married is a meaningless exercise. But I know he loves me, and he's asked me several times to move in with him. I'm sure that will happen, before the baby is born."
My dad's twinkle remains, but he crosses his arms. "Is that enough for you, Ashlynn? A casual commitment from the father of your child?"
"I don't think it has to be casual, just because it's not conventional. I used to think my best life had to include a country club wedding to Dr. Quarterback, a big house in the suburbs, a prestigious white-coat career, and two perfect kids. Oh, and a boutique wardrobe. That was a delusion, as big as the drug delusions I had later.
"Now I love a hippie rock-star, I have more ink than most bikers, I spend more time in orphanages, tour busses and third world countries than I ever spend in Leed's million dollar mansion or in designer dresses, and the drama literally never stops in my crazy chosen Soundcrush family, but I feel more love and more alive with Leed than I ever did before. Now I know life is imperfect and messy and what you make of it. So I hope you and Mom will be accepting of the choices we make, because they probably won't be much like the choices you have made."
My dad has listened intently to everything I said. Sometimes it's weird, how much focus he puts into the things I say now. Growing up, I always felt like he only half-listened to us. He was always so busy building a business.
He cups my cheek. "Sweetheart, as long as you are happy, fulfilled, respected, well treatedâand have a voice in your relationshipâthose are the things that I most care about."
"Thank you, Daddy. I am all those things. Not just because Leed makes me happy or treats me well. Because I treat myself well. Because I choose happiness."
My dad nods, and rubs his clean-shaven jaw, looking me over from head to toe. "I know you do, Ashlynn. The way Leed calls you Sunshine...it's true. These last few yearsâever since you made these changes in your lifeâall these hippie practicesâ" he gives a wink and puts up air quotes, "your light just shines through. I'm incredibly proud of you. None of the things I wanted for you have come to pass, and I'm so glad. Because I can see, you've found your best life."
I feel tears, but I blink them back as I hug my dad. "Daddy, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
He chuckles, "Good, because now I'm going to lecture you about a financial agreement with Leed. Because you should have one, for your protection, for the baby's protection, just as much as for his."
"I don't think that's necessary. I mean...I'm all good. Leed is a very very generous man, and most of our lifestyleâour trips, clothes that I need for appearances, he already covers. Besides, I do have a job, you know. I make a good salary. It mostly sits in the bank, except to cover the townhouse rent and utilities, because when we are together Leed won't let me pay for a single thing. Money means virtually nothing to him."
"That's not entirely true, Ashlynn. To a man like Leed, money means freedom. Whether it's freedom to roam the world, or freedom in paying people to do what he doesn't want to...it means a great deal to him. And there's freedom for both of you in making sure the financials are never a problem."
"What are you trying to say, Daddy?"
"I'm saying it wouldn't surprise me very much if Leed asked you to sign a pre-nup and I just want you to be prepared for that."
I groan and slip away to make my bed. "Daddy, did you not listen to a word I said? I seriously doubt we will get married."
My dad stands at the foot of my bed, one hand in his pocket, pressing his lips together. That's his CEO lookâthe one he uses when he chooses his words carefully.
"Yes, I heard everything you said. You just...never know, Ashlynn. Yesterday, when Trace thought Kat was the one who was pregnant, it surprised me very much that one of the first things he said was that he would marry her without a pre-nup. And yet he devised a very ingenious pre-nup when he married you."
"That's because he's madly in love with her and our marriage wasn't real, remember?" I plump the pillows a little violently.
"That's not all it means. What I'm trying to say is...these boys are very very wealthy and even when they are in the middle of an emotional crisis, their wealth is a lens that they look through at all times. To Trace, what he said was meant to convince me of his depth of love for Kat, but I don't think marrying without a pre-nup is necessarily a good idea for a outrageously wealthy man, even one deeply in love.
"It's a very romantic notion, that could end in an extremely contentious situation, with both partners insecure in their power or ability to execute decisions. All I'm saying is...a pre-nup is not necessarily a bad thing . If Leed should...at some point in your plans...ask you to consider one...it doesn't mean it's the same situation you found yourself in with Trace. A pre-nup doesn't mean there's no love. A pre-nup can mean a man loves you enough to protect you, because, like you said, life can get very messy."
I plant my hands on my hips and give him my sweetest smile. "Daddy, that's all very smart stuff you just said, but you are really harshing my happy buzz today, with all this talk of stuff that's never even going to happen. Can we please focus on the fact that I'm having a baby? Can you believe it? There's a tiny personâyour grandchildâgrowing right here!" I point below my belly button. "Every time I think about the fact that Leed and I made a person, my mind is just...blown. It's such a mystical, beautiful thing."
He looks at my belly a look of confusion on his face. "It is mind-blowing. My baby is having a baby." He envelops me in his arms. "Fine, Ashlynn. No more practical talk. But if you ever should find yourself contemplating a marriage with Leed..."
"Daddy!!!"
My dad smiles that serene smile again and holds his hands up. "Right. Sorry. No more M-word."
"Thank god, because right now, my baby-daddy is so mad at me that he doesn't even trust himself to talk to me face to face. The M-word? We are light years from that. Especially after my epic fluke-up yesterday."
"Fluke-up?" My dad laughs.
"One of Leed's favorite hobbies is kid-friendly cursing. It's rubbed off," I smile.
"Ah. Well, we all fluke-up, Sweetheart. What I know for sure, is Leed loves you and he has a good head on his shoulders for managing conflict. Sometimes it is better to take some time to process anger and hurt."
"Well, we haven't had any serious conflict in yearsânot since we put Viggo Von where he belongsâbut Leed has a lot experience managing conflict. With Tamara, with the band..." I jerk the comforter one last time to make sure it's smooth. "I'm sure it's going to be okay." I say it, mostly to try to convince myself of it. I'm a little surprised he's still keeping his distance.
"Ashlynn, the bed can't get any more made and you and Leed are going to be just fine. Let's go get breakfast." My dad hooks my arm but I scramble back to grab my phone. No way do I want to miss it, if Leed should call.
To my complete shock, when I get downstairs, I find Ollie sitting at the breakfast table, giggling as my mom makes a whipped cream face on the Eggo she just served him. My heart leaps with joy as his hazel eyes meet mine and his warm little face beams with mischief. He looks so much like Leed. Even his hair, which is curlier than Leeds but not far from Leed's burnished copper color. That surprised us all, but it makes him a little stand-out just like his daddy. Not to mention he's got the charm that comes with the looks.
"Ashy, look at this!" He tilts his plate and the smiley face slides off, on account of the syrup beneath. He looks disappointed. "Shrap," he mutters.
I right the plate just before everything dumps on the table and catch him up in a hug with the other hand. "Ollie-pop! I am so happy to see you!" I give him a big kiss. "But not so happy to hear your daddy's funny word at the kitchen table. We only use that for fun with our band buddies, remember?"
He looks up at me with his green cat eyes. "Sorry."
I jerk my head at my mom. "It's her kitchen."
"Sorry Mrs. Ellen."
"That's much better manners," she tell him. "And we'll fix this," she takes the plate from me, preparing to spray on more whipped cream.
"Hmmmm...hold up...did you eat breakfast already?" I ask Ollie.
"Looooong time ago. Eggs at the airport," he makes a face. "I'm staaaaaarrviiiiinngggg." He makes a growly sound like a hungry cub.
"Okay, you can have a snack, but listen: there will all kinds of yummy, fancy desserts at the party tonight and you will probably be dying to try some, so right now let's have some blueberries with a little whipped cream."
He shrugs. "Okay."
My mom nods and mouths sorry at me as she scrapes the mess into the trash.
She's already a grandmother in trainingâshe likes to spoilâbut she's not around Ollie that much and she forgets that toaster pancakes and fake syrup are not a way we indulge a kid that's likely going to be a diabetic one day. Leed won a temporary truce over Tam's reckless experimental gene therapy idea, after Ben finally weighed in on the side of caution. They agreed to wait five years and reassess the idea as the more data is collected on the therapy, but who know if he will end up getting his genes fixed or having to manage diabetes? Better to start him off with a healthy palate.
I kiss Ollie's springy curls. "I'm excited you are here! Did your daddy pick you up from the airport?" I ask hopefully.
"Nope. I flew on the plane with Miranda. Mommy said daddy pulled a wild card."
"Gotcha."
Leed and Tam probably have the craziest custody agreement in the world. Because Leed's schedule is often so erratic, he doesn't have weekly visitation rights. He always makes sure he is in LA and frees up his schedule as much as possible for the one full week a month that Ollie resides with him. We are also free to travel with Ollieâdomesticallyâwhere ever we please for the one full month in the summer that we have him. Other than that, Leed has several "wild cards" per monthâovernight privileges that he can "pull" at will, and Tam contractually agreed to do her best to accommodate his wild card requests to see his son. If she denies a wild card for anything other than Ollie being sick or significant conflictâlike her parents visitingâshe has to issue Leed two rainchecks. It's crazy, but it mostly works.
Miranda bounces into the kitchen from the mudroom. "Hey! I was just next door putting our things at the bandhouse."
"Thanks for bringing him on such short notice. Didn't you have New Year's Plans with your new guy?"
Miranda shrugs. "Yeah, but Leed made it worth my while. Now we can have Valentine Plan's in Hawaii," she winks.
Oh lord. Leed is crazy when it comes to making these wild cards happen sometimes. A lot of times a wild card night doesn't involve a nanny but just a bowl of popcorn and our pj's, but if he's got some crazy adventure cooking, he's not above begging or bribing the nannies to help him pull it off. He probably gave Miranda half a year's salary to ditch her date. But I suppose the good news is, if he sent Ollie and Miranda straight from the airport to the bandhouse, he is planning on being here soon.
"Can we call daddy?" Ollie asks while we are breakfasting.
The call goes to VM. A few minutes later, Leed texts:
Sorry. I was in the shower.
Did my surprise arrive?
I send him a picture of Ollie wearing a whipped cream mustache.
Leed Facetimes immediately.
Ollie holds out his sticky hand imperiously for the phone. I wipe his hand quickly and pray for my phone as I hand it to him.
"Daddy where are you!" Ollie yells as soon as he punches the button.
"Been at Uncle Bodie's. Now I'm driving. Headed your way soon, Little Man. You better save me some whipped cream."
"Are you gonna eat it out of the can?"
"Is there any other way?"
Ollie tilts his head. "Sometimes you eat it off Ashy..."
Miranda giggles. My cheeks burn. My parents are pretending they didn't hear that.
"We all had a whipped cream war," I say hastily.
"It does taste best on a pretty girl's nose," Leed tells Ollie.
"No, it's better from the can."
"Whatevs, kid. How was your airplane ride?"
"Good," Ollie says. He's very unimpressed by flying at this point. "Can I play foosball?" he asks his dad, then looks at me. He's only been to the band house a couple of times, but he loves the game room.
"Sure," I tell him. "We'll walk over in just a little while. I bet Kat and Trace will play, too."
"I want Trace to be my partner." Ollie grins. The kid's no fool, Trace kicks butt at foosball.
"That hurts, man." Leed gives Ollie a sad face and Ollie giggles.
"Just til you get here, Daddy."
"Thanks. Listen, I'm gonna need your help at soundcheck later on. So after foosball, you gotta get a good nap and rest those pipes, alright?"
"'Kay," Ollie says, losing interest in Leed as he stabs blueberries with a cocktail pick that I just gave him. "I'm gonna go now," he says as he pushes the blueberries around on the plate.
"Love you. Let me talk to Ashy, okay?"
Ollie thrusts the phone at me.
Leed is looking very handsome with his hair pulled back in a half man-bun. He has a perplexed expression on his face.
"I can't really see you now," Leed frowns. "I think he got whipped cream on the camera."
I wipe and walk onto the sun porch where the light is better. "Yeah, that's better."
He smiles. Softly. Not sexily or impishly or broadly. I think he's still mad at me.
"Thanks for Facetiming. I miss your face," I tell him.
"Me too. I'll see you in just a little bit," he nods. "How are you feeling?"
"Good. Okay." Actually I'm feeling a little nauseous but I'm used to it because it's been going on for a couple of weeks and I know it will fade as they day goes on. I toss a quick glance over my shoulder. Ollie seems occupied. "So listen, they said I should have a follow up in LA as soon as possible."
His focus switches from the camera to his screen as he searches my face. "Why, is there a problem?" he asks quickly.
"No, everything seemed fine. It's just to get...established with my regular doctor. I checked your schedule for a good time and I made a doctor's appointment for next week. I put it on your calendar if you want to come."
"Of course I want to be there," he says quietly. "Listen, can we talk about this later? I mean, not on Facetime in your parents' kitchen with little ears?" He's looking off camera at something. He doesn't look angry but he's acting...preoccupied. It's not like him. He's usually so present.
"Where are you?" I ask.
"At Lenox, in the parking lot. We left in a such a hurry I didn't bring any performance clothes for the gig tonight."
"It's just a neighborhood thing. You can wear jeans and any old t-shirt and still look amazing," I bat my eyes at him like a fangirl. He rolls his eyes, but smiles the soft smile again.
"Nah. It's New Year's Eve and we've all invited a shit ton of friends and family...it's a big deal. I'm gonna go big. You hot it up, too, alright? I want a nice shot for Instagram..."
"Okay?" I laugh. It's been a while since Leed cared about his Instagram. When Sawyer finally made the big time and Leed finally got a real PA, she took over all his social media concerns. I doubt Leed's posted to his own accounts once in the last year.
"I should probably go. I'm tryna stealth this shopping shit and I think I've already been made by a carful of fans. Need anything? " he says it casually like he's asking me if I need a carton of almond milk at the store, but what he really means is, do I need any designer jewelry or bodycon or shoes to "hot it up" like he's requested.
"No, the stylists sent tons of stuff to the bandhouse. You could probably find something in the boys' box if you don't want to shop..."
"Nah, I never like the shit they send. I'd rather pick it out myself."
I say nothing. Leed has never been happy with any of the stylists since Tam stopped styling for them. She really did get his image and he misses her professionally. Maybe they would get along better if they still had that work familiarity, but she stays home with her two kids now and Leed mostly styles himself. Sometimes I try to help by booking him appointments at fashion houses for a season's haul or going to fashion week with him.
"OK, happy shopping. Oh, Mac texted to say they will be here around lunch time."
"Good.Bodie's coming, too," Leed says.
I break into a broad smile. "That's great. So great, Leed."
He grimaces. "I hope so. It'll be tough, to have him there, but not have him with us." Suddenly I realize what he's saying. Bodie is not Soundcrush's drummer anymore. He'll be sidestage, not on the kit.
"Oh, god. Right. Chili."
"She's a pro. Harder on Bodie."
"And you." I say softly. Bodie leaving the band has been hardest on Leed.
"Nah, you know my motto."
"The show goes on," I say dutifully.
"Yep." He puts on his sunglasses but not before I see the rather flat look in his eyes. Sometimes I think Leed lost a bit of love for the live performances when Bodie left. He still puts on a phenomenal show and Soundcrush just keeps getting bigger and bigger, but the energy is just a little different now. Soundcrush doesn't have quite the same undercurrent as it used to.
Leed is raking up all his notorious hair and putting on a backwards baseball cap. "K. I gotta do this before I get swarmed."
"Go."
"Love ya,"
"Yeah. Love ya." I echo. As the screen goes still, I can't help feeling a little empty. Maybe I'm spoiled by Leed's typical attentions, but he's never this distant or preoccupied. I fight back tears. It's my fault.
I'm so upset with myself for the way I handled confirming this pregnancy. I completely ruined it for him and now we are disconnected during what should be an amazingly happy time.
I take a deep breath. "Hey, Ollie-pop, before we go play foosball, I'm gonna do my yoga. Want to practice your headstand?"
He beams and jumps down from the chair. He practices with me for about fifteen minutes and then my dad takes him next door to see if their stirrings in the house can wake Trace and Kat, who are still late-sleeping like vacation.
By the time I finish, shower, dress, and walk over to the band house, Trace and Ollie have whipped up on my father and my sister and the rest of Soundcrush have completed the long journey from Australia.
Mac walks right up to me and kisses my lips, then hugs me tight. "I'm so happy for you," she whispers. "Shit, I'm so happy for us. Cash and this baby will only be about fifteen months apart. They will be good playmates in a few years, just like Len and Ollie."
"I know. I'm so happy, too." We're still hugging and whispering.
"Can I get in on that?" Chili she flips over the back of the couch and comes toward us, her purple hair bouncing.
"Nope," Mac calls. "This bitch is mine." Then her eyes narrow. "And I do mean that, bitch. I can't believe you and Kat kept me out of the loop."
"I'm sorry. I was in a little bit of a denial, I think. I didn't think it was actually real, until I heard the heartbeat and saw the ultrasound."
"That giant PREGNANT on the test didn't give you a clue?" Mac hisses.
"Chillax, Macs. They didn't tell me, either," Chili huffs as she hugs me.
"Nobody tells you anything, Noob." Mac smirks at her.
Of all the guys, Mac is closest to Chili. Mac loves having another girl in the band. Especially a bad-ass like Chili. They give each other crap all the time.
"Suck it," Chili shoots back, making a low rude gesture that has me blushing and hoping my dad nor Ollie nor Lennon saw.
"Keep it in your pants, there are kids present," Mac retorts easily.
"And much bigger dicks to suck around here, anyway," a low murmur rolls from behind, between Chili and I. The words make Chili laugh but the voice sends shivers up my spine. God, I've missed his voice, his smell, the energy that I feel rushing toward me as I feel him moving closer. I whip around, expecting him to embrace me.
Leed stands still, his arms full. He's cradling a large bouquet of sunflowers and a basket of artistically arranged with pinepples and mangos.
"Hi," he says with the soft smile.
"Hi," I breathe.
He moves closer and puts the bouquet in my arms. "For you," he says and bends down to kiss my cheek. Then he steps back and hoists the basket with a wink and a grin. "And for Lil Mango."
I laugh. "I thank you, Lil Mango thanks you."
"Whose Lil Mango?" Ollie yells as he tosses down his Ipad and comes running at Leed, who scoops him up with his one freed hand. Lennon follows, and Mac grabs the basket of fruit so Leed can group hug them.
"Whose Little Mango?" Lennon echoes.
I raise my eyebrows at Leed, but he just gives a quick shake of the head. He's probably right. Tam and Ben waited to tell Ollie about Layla until Tam was showing. It was easier for him to understand that way.
"You know, Lil Mango, Ollie. That rapper that's friends with Dev..." Row says casually. She does an impressive cover of the chorus of Robbery, and Ollie says, "Oooooooh HIM."
Row pats his precious curls as she takes the fruit basket from Mac and hooks my arm, pulling me into the kitchen. "Juice Wrld, Lil Mango, he'll never know the difference," she whispers in my ear while Ollie babbles to Leed about winning at foosball.
I smile. Her gray hair might be gone, but Row is still shit-cool and whip-smart. She just has more grace now. She's always been full of Matt, but the strength she got from her mom has risen in the last couple of years.
I itch to take the pineapple she's trying to cut from her, but I don't, because I know it will piss her off. She holds it with her minimally fuctioning hand and it wiggles as she slices off the top. I arrange the sunflowers in a vase as she offers her congratulations and I accept them with thanks.
"Leed seems to be taking the surprise baby in stride. Riley would not. He was literally sweating when he checked with me to make sure it wasn't my pregnancy test."
"He would be fine," I assure her. "He loves you."
"I know he loves me. But there's still a part of him that thinks I'm a child. He's got a real complex about our age difference. It's really only eight years and I'm twenty-one. I don't understand it sometimes. It's always been fine, when it's just the two of us, but around Matt and Trace he's in constant defense mode."
"Because they are in constant attack mode."
"If he just truly didn't give a fuck, it would fade."
"I don't give a fuck, darling." Riley appears as always, at just the right time, catching the pineapple as it rolls away from her weak grasp. He steadies it on the chopping board for her. His help, she always tolerates. "Not like you mean. It just gets old and I can only tolerate so much nonsense. Be a good girl and don't chop my fingers off. You're rather fond of them, as I recall."
"Mmmmm. You have other appendages I like better," she tells him, but she cuts very carefully. She's not naturally left handed so she's still learning to do precise tasks with it.
Trusting in her cutting, Riley turns his attention to me. He grins. "Ten weeks! You snuck one by me, Ashlynn. Not many people manage."
I laugh at him. "Irritates you, doesn't it?"
"Quite right it does. Won't be happening again any time soon. I'm back on top of this band like a fucking cherry on a sundae. But...in regards to Lil Mango...very best wishes. You deserve all the happiness. You've earned it."
"Thank you Riley. For everything. I might easily be dead, if you hadn't come to work for Trace. I can't ever repay everything you've done for me over the years."
"That's true, but you can try," he smirks. "Riley is a very versatile name, you know. Boy or girl."
I laugh but Row lays down the knife and grabs his chin. "She can not name her kid Riley. There's only one you."
I hear Leed's footfalls behind me and I shiver as he puts a hand lightly at my back on approach.
"Hey." His attention is directed to Riley and Row. "I need to give you a head's up. Bodie will be at the show tonight. We're gonna invite him to do the encore. Band vote. Just happened. 4 to 1."
Row smiles easily. "I'm glad."
Riley says. "How the votes regarding Bodie have swung. Used to go 4 to 1 the other way."
Leed snorts. "You know Adam and Mac. Forgiveness is kind of their thing. Chili can afford to be gracious now that her place is solid."
"She thinks." Riley is grim.
Leed sighs. "Look, she's a great drummer and a good fit technically and personally and we're still kicking ass and taking names with her. But he was was our heartbeat, man. What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing. We had this discussion more than once in Australia. I know the band's agenda, where Bodie is concerned. I'll see it through." His voice is completely monotone.
That's Riley the manager's line. Riley the person feels totally differently and we all know it.
Row ducks under his arm and kisses his cheek. "I'm not going to say what I always say, because I know you know."
He gives her the same terse nod. "I know you think it wasn't his fault. But it was. Bodie made years of bad choices. He opened the door and rang the bloody dinner bell for those fucking jackals. It should have been him."
"He thinks the same thing, you know," Leed says grimly.
"Of course he does, because its the truth."
"Blame and guilt...what do they do, Riley? They just hurt more."
"He deserves to hurt." Riley brings Row's damaged hand to twine with his. "She can barely feel this, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. And this was perhaps the least of the damage he caused."
"This has all been said so many times," Row whispers to Riley. "Please, Baby. This is a happy day."
I see his eyes softened behind his glasses. He nods and kisses her hand. He turns to Leed. "I serve the band's interests where Bodie is concerned. You know that. End of discussion. And Row is absolutely right. It is a very happy day, isn't it?" he winks at Leed.
Leed's hand skates down the back of my skull and he looks at me with an unreadable expression. Almost like his rock star face but more...tender. "Yes, it is. I think we are both very happy about the baby, right?"
"I am," I assure him.
"Me too," he touches my face and gives me a resolute nod. It's genuine but Leed is holding something back, I can tell. The wild joy that naturally fills him is dammed up inside. I guess his anger won't let it flow. Disappointment grips my chest and traps my breath.
"Hmmmmm." Riley is still smirking. "Is that all you are happy about, Leed? I mean...aren't you looking forward to the show?"
Leed cuts him a quick look, but then relaxes into a his cocky rock star grin, throwing his arm around my shoulders. That surprises me. He's swinging from reserve to casual and still there's something missing. "Yeah, I am. Never done a New Year's Countdown on stage. I'm gonna be all over that shit like Dick Clark. Should be pretty fun."
"Hmmmm...I'm sure it will be an interesting evening," Riley says again and sucks on a sliver of pineapple.
Row is squinting at Riley. After an unreadable married look passes between them, and he gives her a slight shrug that I can't help but feel is almost a brush-off. She snorts and says "Uhhh, yeah, no. I don't believe that. On top like a fucking cherry, you said." Then she looks at us and says flatly. "Speaking of fucking, I feel like it. Let's go, Riley."
He chokes on the pineapple. "Bloody hell, Rowan..."
She's dragging him out of the room.
I stare after them. "What.Was.That?"
"That? Oh, that was Row tryna to give us a minute alone. I'm sure that's what that was." Leed's lying. His jaw is twitching. That's his tell.
I put my hands on his sides. "Yeah we haven't had that." I tilt my head up, putting my lips close to his. "Are you still angry with me?"
His hands skate my shoulders and arms and fall to my hips. "No. Not angry."
"Are you...freaked out?"
He closes his eyes. He shakes his head and the small smile is back. "No," he says hoarsely. "Not freaked at all. I'm...beyond happy about our baby. Honestly it caught me by surprise. I wouldn't even let myself consider it, but now I can't even tell you how...right it feels." His thumbs spread across my lower belly. He opens his eyes and they are vividly green as he drops slowly down on his knees and plants an exaggerated kiss on my belly.
My vision goes blurry at the same time my knees start to shake. The breath that's been trapped releases in a small sob. Leed's on his feet at once, kissing my forehead. "No, no, no. Don't. Please don't lose your shit right now. Because then I'll lose my shit and...and...baby, I can't lose my shit right now. This...us...it's huge. I want to give it the space it deserves, and right now our space is a little bit...crowded."
He's not kidding. Ollie is wedging himself between us. "Daddy, when is soundcheck?"
Ollie loves soundcheck. I love it too. Seeing Ollie and Lennon dance and share the mic with Leed. Watching Adam coach them on how to shake tambourines in time, or seeing Trace chase them around until they seek shelter on "base"âMac's keyboard stand, wrapped around her legs âit's like time slows down.
It's a golden moment with a beautiful soundtrack.
I put my hand on his head, knowing he won't be this little long, but knowing we'll have many more golden moments with him and his brother or sister coming up right behind.
"After nap. Let's go, kiddo," Leed hoists him up. "I stayed up super fluking late with Uncle Bodes. I'll catch a wink with you."
Ollie tugs on my sleeve. "Come on, Ashy. You too."
"Yeah, you too, Ashy," Leed's lips curl. "You need lots of rest if you're staying up past midnight."
We climb the stairs to our large bedroom and put Ollie in the bed between us. We stare at each other along time after Ollie is asleep.
No words. Just eyes speaking. His greens and my blues, reaching out for each other.
Eventually, I drift off too. When I wake, it's mid afternoon.
Leed left me a note. Took Ollie to soundcheck. You got our other kid, right?
I smile. Okay, maybe he's working his way through his hurt or disappointment in the way I handled things. His cute note seems much more Leed.
I pull on my Uggs and head downstairs, grabbing my jacket to walk down to the driving range, where the concert is being staged. Kat and Row leap up off the couch before I can shrug into my jacket.
"It's time to get ready," Kat says. "The new stylist sent a giant wardrobe box of goodies...let's go see what's in there."
"No, not before Mac and Chili take their pass."
"They've already got their stuff. Come on, let's check it out."
"There's tons of time. I'm gonna go to soundcheck."
Row makes a disgusted sound. "God I don't miss soundchecks. So fucking tedious."
"Yeah, I guess it can be, but with Ollie and Lennon running around, it's more fun. Plus they might need me to take charge of them if they want to do a serious run-through for the big count-down."
"No, it's okay. Miranda went with them." Kat smiles.
Row strong arms me away from the door and pushes me toward the stairs. "Get the fuck up the stairs. I want to check out that box and my fucking place in this pecking order sucks. I used to be a front, and now I'm behind the scenes. Like way behind. Even front man's girlfriend trumps manager's wife. So pick your shit out so I can get my leftovers.
"Damn. The bitch is back." Kat giggles.
"She never left. She just gets temporarily hoo-doo'ed by her husband's charm. But he's not here right now so you better hop to before I lose all patience.. I am not above fighting a pregnant chic to get that purple vinyl bodysuit."
"There's a purple bodysuit? Leed did say to hot it up..."
Row is exaggerating about there being a pecking order, but things are somewhat different with the new stylists. In the old days Tamara chose and the band damn well wore what she picked and if she dressed their dates it was pretty much the same. The new stylists are less like dictators. They send tons of items. The guys just divide it and wear it all in rotation. Well, except Leed. He's pretty picky, as evidenced by the fact that he went shopping today for his own clothes. Mac and Chili use the new stylists more like a subscription box...they pick stuff out, let us have a pass at the stuff they didn't want, and then toss back the "uuuuhhhh, no" items. There is no pecking order beyond Mac, then Chili. So Kat and Row and I spend way too much time trying on, exchanging, bartering, negotiating.
This is an outside winter concert, so even though it's not very cold in Atlanta, it's definitely not a tiny dress night. Row does end up with the vinyl body suit and she looks like catwoman. Kat goes classic with black leather leggings and a tight black cashmere sweater.
Leed said hot it up, so I go with the shineâa pair of hip-hugging, silver-sequined flares and a black crop sweater with a high collar and peasant sleeves. The low pants and crop top show off two full sunflowers on my side tat. I might be a tiny bit chilly, but it will be worth it because the outfit is adorable. The heaviest silver earrings I've ever worn were sent to compliment the pants, along with a pair of Louboutins that are very impractical for a grass concert, but Riley returns from soundcheck and assures us we are taking a golf cart to our roped VIP fireworks viewing area, which has a temporary floor and patio heaters.
I think we are waiting on the guys to return and dress, but Riley says they are staged for wardrobe in the clubhouse, and that Ollie and Lennon are also there, having dinner with my parents before the show.
I look around the kitchen. "What are we eating for dinner?"
"Champagne," Kat snorts, popping a cork while Row catches the flow in glasses.
"Good for you. What am I eating for dinner?" I mumble realizing I'm starving.
"Nothing if you want to stay in those pants, tubby," Row giggles.
"Oh my god, I'm almost three months pregnant and I still have abs. Shut the fuck up!" I yell at her.
"Wow. You made Ash drop the bomb." Kat high-fives Row.
Riley hands me a slice of mango. "There's a hospitality table in VIP, love. You can nosh." As Riley is escorting us out the door, he turns to me. "Leed asked if you have the ultrasound picture. He wanted to see it before the performance, for good luck."
I rush back upstairs where I've tucked in my closet and put it in my tiny purse.
When we ride past the clubhouse, I'm shocked to see we are passing droves of people. Like hundreds, pushing down the streets. When Riley maneuvers us past into the VIP section which is set a little back just where the hill begins to rise to the tee-off area of the driving rage, I stare at the crowd below us. I'm used to gauging big crowds now. There have to be...at least five thousand people on the grounds.
"I thought this was a neighborhood party."
"Mmmm...the guys went a little overboard with the family and friends passes." Riley keeps the golf cart moving to the right of the crowd past the security barriers and around to side stage. We climb the steps and find the band. Everyone looks their normal fabulous, except Leed.
Tonight he is extra.
He's gone way past rock star.
He's a whole damn galaxy.
His left hand, ringed like a king, moves fluidly as rakes through his long auburn tressesâdark and shiny, weighted at the ends with perfect curl. It flips and falls into perfect place. Just the hint of a beard, cropped close to the jaw, makes his rock star grin pure sex. The whole set of his face is lusty for the stage.
Painted-on black jeans and a black velvet floor-length coat ride his perfect frame. The inside of the coat sleeves are laced on the underside of his arms, showing peaks of tats and tying around his thumbs. He's shirtless beneath the coat and his abs are tight with anticipation. He's wearing unusual neck jewelryâa satin cord knotted like a loose bolero. The cord terminates in two leaf-like pouches
Leed is laughing with Adam, completely oblivious to the fact that he's absolutely breath-taking. No man, no rock star, no god has ever shined so bright.
He feels the weight of my gaze and his words die on his lips as he returns my up and down. He hands Adam his drink and swaggers toward me, the coat flaring as he wades through the crowd.
He reaches for my hand and bows over it like some kind of alt-rock prince out of time.
"My Queen," he murmurs, looking up from beneath ridiculous eyebrows.
"My God," I whisper.
His lips twitch. "Glad you know it."
It's like there's no one here on this side-stage as he presses his soft, expressive mouth to my hand in a kiss.
He straightens, pulling me a little closer as he massages the inside of my hand with his thumb. The fire in his eyes burns nearly fluorescent as it catches stage lights.
"Did you bring it?" he murmurs, letting my hand go, so I can slide it in my purse. He holds the picture between us, hidden by the lapels of his coat as he stares down at the proof of our love. Then he carefully folds it into a tiny square, kisses it and tucks it in one of the leaf shaped pouches of his necklace.
"For inspiration," he says. He touches my cheek. "Will you go to the VIP now? I want you out front.I don't want you to miss a second. There's so much I want to say to you. But I want to say it the way I communicate best."
All the earlier reserve he was putting up is gone. This the Leed I know and loveâwild and free, full of mischief and lust and joy, ready to push that energy to his captive audience.
Except the only captive he holds is me. Before he even claims his stage, I know. This is the reason for his reserve.
He was saving himself for the performance of a lifetime.
For me.
Okay, are you ready for Leed to take the stage? It should be good. By the way, here's what I think that look like tonight. Leed's hair is not quite so long or quite so dark, though he's definitely wearing it longer than ever. (FYI I have always imagined his hair changes color with seasons, a dark auburn in winter, with more golden highlights bleaching in during the summer. At different points in the book I have described it as auburn, copper, or sunkissed, I think...)