Johnny chuckled. “And back when I was still too scared to play my own stuff.”
“I can’t imagine that,” I said. “Too scared to play your own songs?”
“Yep,” said Josh. “Imagine this guy, some skinny teenager, his hands shaking while he went up on stage at open mic to play cover songs.” He shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest as he sat back in his chair. “But damn you had talent—everyone could tell.”
“And Josh is the one who finally got me to play my own songs,” Johnny added.
“You just needed a little push,” he said.
I glanced over Josh’s shoulder again, noticing that the customers were still all stealing quick glances at us.
“I think some of your fans want to say hi,” I said.
Johnny smirked. “Probably all want to bust my balls for taking so long to come back to town.”
“Well, we’re all glad as hell to see you, Johnny,” Josh said, getting up and giving Johnny a quick pat on the shoulder. “I’ll let you guys relax. Good meeting you, Kendra.”
“Likewise,” I said.
“And, ah, if you feel in the mood for it, we’ve got an open mic tonight,” said Josh.
Johnny grinned. “I’ll think about it.”
Josh left us to our coffee and muffins.
“Feels good to be back,” Johnny said. “Not going to lie about that.”
“And it looks like you’re not the only one who feels that way,” I said, glancing at the customers watching us.
“Mind if I make the rounds?” he asked. “Got a lot of catching up to do.”
“Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll be right here.”
Johnny stood up, leaned down, and planted a kiss on my forehead. Mug in hand, I watched as Johnny went around the place, saying hi to people he hadn’t seen in years.
It was strange. The Johnny I’d known was this big rock star, performing to crowds of tens of thousands, but here he was someone else, someone more laid-back. He chatted with old friends, asking them about their families and jobs and pets, remembering names and all sorts of little details. It was nice, like I was seeing a side of him that I’d never gotten a chance to watch.
When he was done, he came back over and sat down.
“Do some good catching up?” I asked.
“Yep,” he said, tearing off a piece of his muffin and popping it into his mouth. “But I didn’t tell any of them the big news.”
He nodded toward my belly.
“When’re you going to drop that bombshell?” I asked.
“Should probably let my parents be the first ones to know.”
He glanced out of the window at the charming city streets.
“What do you say we check out the town?” he asked. “Some places I’d love to show you.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
And I meant it. There wasn’t any place I’d rather be.
Chapter 33
Kendra
The afternoon after the coffee shop was one of the most pleasant I’d had in a long, long while. Johnny took me through the town, showing me all of his old haunts.
Our first stop was the local record shop, a cool place called Backwoods Records. Johnny and I spent a good portion of the afternoon browsing through the vinyl, talking about our favorites, and even picking up a few to take back home.
Once we were done there, we continued on through the town, Johnny pointing out all the places where he used to spend time when he was a kid. As we made our way through the crisscrossed streets of downtown, I was struck by how much I liked the place.
“It’s so freaking charming here,” I said. “I can’t get over it.”
“And the best part is you don’t have to be cooped up in an apartment,” he said.
“I seriously doubt anything about your place in LA lends itself to being ‘cooped up,’” I said with a smile.
“You’d think so,” he said. “But no matter how big your apartment is, there’s still nothing like having an actual house with a yard and a garage and a basement and all that good stuff.” He nodded down one of the streets. “Come see what I mean.”
We headed down a few blocks, soon arriving at a street full of gorgeous, Victorian-style homes. They were grand and beautiful, each with their own sweeping front yard.
“They’re amazing,” I said, and I meant it.
“Old homes,” he said. “Built over a hundred years ago. You can’t really compare some ultra-modern apartment building to these.”
I stopped in front of one, a striking three-story brick home with a massive yard and a huge porch.
“Oh, my God,” I said. “I’ve always wanted a place with a porch. You know, a place to sit and enjoy some nice spring day, or in the fall when the leaves start to change.”
I imagined the scene, Johnny and I sitting on the porch, a kid—maybe two—playing in the front yard. Hell, maybe even a big, friendly dog to complete the scene. But not wanting to scare the hell out of Johnny with too much domestic fantasy, I kept it to myself.
“Lots of room,” he said. “Peace and quiet. What’s not to like?”
I was finding it hard to argue with him. But before I could get too swept up in things, Johnny took out his phone and checked it.
“Okay,” he said. “The parents are wondering why I’ve been in town for hours and haven’t come to see them. You ready?”
I nodded. “Ready.”
And I was. I’d been having so much fun learning about this part of Johnny that he’d kept secret from the world, so meeting his parents seemed like the next logical step.
“Then let’s do it.”
We stopped by the wine store and picked up a bottle of something red—didn’t matter what exactly, since neither of us were going to be drinking it—then got back in my car. This time I was behind the wheel. We took a quick drive out of downtown, soon arriving in a charming little neighborhood that was so picturesque I could hardly believe it.
“It’s so strange to see that this is where you grew up,” I said we drove down the quiet streets.
“Expecting something more hardcore?” he asked.
“Maybe,” I said. “They say the struggle is what makes great artists, after all.”
“I think that’s a load of BS,” he said. “What made me good was growing up in a loving household with a family that encouraged me. I can’t imagine having gotten to where I am without having the parents I did.”
A thought occurred to me as we drove through the streets of his neighborhood—what if Johnny’s bad behavior over the years had been a result of him being so far removed from the sort of life he had when he grew up? What if, deep down, what he needed was to be back in a place like this?
Maybe even with a family of his own?
But, like the rest of the thoughts this trip into Johnny’s past had been putting in my mind, I kept it to myself.
“Right here,” he said, pointing to a cute two-story bungalow.
“That’s the place?”
“That’s the place.”
I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. Johnny reached over and took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I was already getting used to him being there to support me when I needed it; the man was pretty damn good at it, after all.
“They won’t bite,” he said.
That wasn’t what I was worried about. It was more that I was about to cross a very, very serious point with Johnny. Meeting someone’s parents was no small thing. Between the pregnancy and this, he and I were becoming something serious extremely quickly.
I took a quick moment to psych myself up, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
He gave me a nod, and we both got out. Moments later we were at the front door, which Johnny gave a quick rap.
“Coming!” called a woman’s voice from inside.
Johnny took my hand as we waited, giving it another squeeze. I glanced down at my outfit. I was wearing a thic
k coat and a sweater underneath, which meant there was a chance that his parents weren’t going to notice my pregnancy right away. I realized that I hadn’t talked with Johnny about how, exactly, we were going to drop the news.
Before I could give the matter too much thought, however, the door opened.
The couple, Johnny’s parents, were two attractive people in their mid-sixties. His father was tall and trim, with Johnny’s lean, solid build and angular, handsome face. Whereas Johnny had a head full of thick, dark hair, however, the man’s head was as bald and shiny as they came. He was dressed in a thick, comfy-looking dark blue cardigan and a pair of gray slacks.
His mother was striking, short and lean, and I knew right away from where Johnny got his piercing blue eyes. She had a warm, easy smile and a head full of curly, sandy-blond hair. Like her husband, she was dressed in comfy but stylish clothes.
“There they are!” she said, her blue eyes going wide as she threw her arms around Johnny.
“Hi, Mom,” he said.
She gave him a quick hug before turning her attention to me.
“And you must be Kendra, our guest of honor,” she said, giving me a quick, appraising look up and down.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Maxton,” I said.
Mrs. Maxton waved her hand through the air dismissively, that same warm smile still on her face.
“None of that while you’re here,” she said. “It’s Mary and Mark to you.”
She flashed me another easy, welcoming smile as Mark shook Johnny’s hand before turning his attention to me.
“Mark Maxton,” he said, giving me a brief, firm hug. “Been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Kendra Peters,” I said. “And likewise.”
“Looking forward” wasn’t exactly the right way to put it. I’d been verging on terrified, but my fears quickly vanished when I realized how welcoming and friendly Johnny’s parents were.
“Come on in,” said Mary. “Long drive here from Seattle, I bet.”
Minutes later the four of us were seated in the living room, cups of coffee in front of us. My eyes drifted around the space, taking in the comfy, homey décor. To my left, a small fire crackled in the fireplace. It was all so…pleasant and normal. I still couldn’t believe that Johnny came from a place like this.
“Still can’t wait to get that thing going, huh, Mom?” asked Johnny, tilting his head toward the fireplace.
“You know how your mother is,” said Mark. “First chilly day of the year and she’s got a fire going like it’s the Oregon Trail during a blizzard.”
Mary gave a good-natured flick of her wrist before turning to the fire and warming her hands in front of it.
“I just love a good fire,” she said. “Makes a place feel so inviting. What do you think, Kendra?”
I let my eyes drift to the fire, watching the flames dance for a moment.
“Totally agree,” I said. “Nothing made me happier when I was a kid than having a roaring fire in the fireplace. No room for that in Seattle, though.”
“No kidding,” said Johnny. “Stuff like backyards and fireplaces and basements are total luxuries when you live in a place like that.”
“Don’t know how you kids do it,” said Mark. “Back when your mother and I got married, I couldn’t get out of Portland fast enough. And that was before it got turned into some skinny-jeans hipster joint.”
I laughed at his comment. But sitting in the living room, I could see where he was coming from. It was such a warm, comfortable space. I could easily picture Johnny as a kid running through the halls of the house, playing and yelling at the top of his lungs as he practiced his singing.
A house like this would be a perfect place to raise a family. No doubt about that.
We chatted for a little while longer, Johnny telling his parents the story of how we met.
“You snuck backstage just to see him?” Mary asked. “In a fake uniform and everything?”
“In a fake uniform and everything,” I said. “But I wasn’t going back there to ask him on a date. I wanted him on my label.”
“Still can’t believe you run your own record company,” said Mark. “I can’t imagine the work that must involve.”
“It’s a lot of work,” I said. “But it’s worth it. I’m giving bands the chance to make it big, maybe be as big as Johnny someday.”
“My son the rock star,” said Mary. She reached over and gave Johnny’s knee a squeeze. “He’ll always be little Johnathan to me, though. That cute little brat waking me up in the middle of the night playing his guitar at some ungodly hour.”
The smile on her face made it clear she hadn’t been bothered by his interruptions one bit.
Johnny sniffed the air, and I did the same. There was the smell of something delicious in the oven, something familiar.
“You making dinner, Mom?” asked Johnny.
“You bet I am,” said Mary. “You want to guess what it is?”
Johnny took another slow sniff, a smile spreading across his face after he did.
“Chicken parm?” he asked.
“Kid’s got a hell of a nose to go along with that ear of his, huh?” asked Mark to me.
“No doubt about that,” I said.
“My favorite,” he said. “You guys really know how to welcome someone in from the road.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart,” said Mary. “And your pretty friend.”
I couldn’t help but blush.
“Better watch out though, Mom,” said Johnny. “Kendra makes a hell of a chicken parm herself.”
“That right?” asked Mary.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said. “Just some recipe I found on the internet.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, babe,” said Johnny. “Probably second-best chicken parm I’ve ever had.”
I wanted to respond, but all I could think about was how much I loved to hear him call me “babe.”
“Well,” said Mary. “I put the food in the oven right before you two showed up, so it should be ready right about now. You all ready to eat?”
“You bet,” I said.
Chapter 34
Kendra
I pushed my plate away, every last bit of the marinara having been cleaned up by a piece of Mary’s delicious, homemade bread.
“I take it that means you’re full?” asked Mary.
“So full,” I said. “I’ve been eating like crazy for the last few months.”
My eyes went wide as I caught myself. Johnny and I hadn’t spilled the beans about the baby yet. I wanted us to get a moment together so we could figure out how to drop the news, and I found myself wishing we’d discussed the matter on the drive over.
I placed my hand on my belly under the table, feeling the roundness through my sweater.
“Nothing wrong with a girl with an appetite,” said Mark. “When Mary and I went out on one of our first dates, she almost out-ate me pound-for-pound at the steakhouse we went to. One of the things that made me know she was the girl for me.”
Mary let out a chiming laugh as she reached over and gave Mark’s arm a squeeze.
“Sure you guys don’t want any wine?” asked Mark, holding up the bottle and preparing to pour.
“Nah,” said Johnny. “I’m trying to take it easy these days.”
“Now that’s a relief,” said Mary. “I saw those pictures of you at that prison a few months back.”
Johnny shook his head ruefully. “Still can’t believe I ended up at freaking Alcatraz.”
“At least you were at a jail where you could come and go as you wanted,” said Mark with a smirk.
“No kidding,” said Johnny. “Anyway, between that and the hangover I had, I’m pretty confident I made the right decision in giving up booze for a while.”
“And what about you, sweetheart?” asked Mary. “Just not much of a drinker?”
My stomach tensed. Anything that came out of my mouth that didn’t involve the word “baby” would be a lie.
I was torn. I didn’t want to share the news without talking to Johnny about it, but at the same time, I wasn’t crazy about the idea of lying to Johnny’s parents.
What if I were to tell them and they were furious?
Time seemed to draw out as I scanned my mind for some kind of answer that would make the question go away.
“You okay over there?” asked Mark.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah,” I said. “Just…ate a lot is all.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Johnny looking at me with concerned eyes. Deep down, I hoped that he could tell what I was thinking.
“Well, let me clear the table,” said Mary. “Got some pie from that bakery you love downtown, Johnathan.”
“Dutch apple?” he asked, his face lighting up in a way I could only describe as adorable.
“Dutch apple,” Mary confirmed as she collected the plates. “With ice cream and caramel.”
“You sure know how to make a guy glad he came home, Mom,” said Johnny.
The feeling of tension in my gut didn’t go away. I was totally unsure of what to do.
“You need to lie down, Kendra?” asked Mark. “You look a little pale.”
My heart began to thud in my chest, and my skin grew cold. I had no idea why I was having such a reaction. All I needed was to spin out a little lie and it would all go away.
But I didn’t want to lie. I’d done enough of that over the last few months. What would Johnny say if I spilled the news?
Then, I felt something. It was a pressure on my leg under the table that I recognized right away as Johnny’s hand. He gave my leg a gentle squeeze, and I glanced up to see him regarding me with warm, knowing eyes.
I could tell instantly that he knew what was on my mind. And what’s more, the look on his face seemed to have a clear message: “It’s okay. You can tell them.”
Relief moved over me like a cool breeze. But now the hard part was here. I took Johnny’s hand under the table and gave him another squeeze. By this point, Mark and Mary could tell that there was something going on, and they both watched me with careful expressions.
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