Heart Strings

by Melanie Moreland

  “To see something I want to buy.”

  “Oh.”

  We pulled up in front of a familiar Tudor-style house. Lottie stared at it in recognition, then got excited. “Oh my god, whatever they have for sale, we need to take a long time to decide. I’ve been wanting to see inside this place forever!”

  I chuckled at her enthusiasm and helped her from the car. It took a lot of effort these days. We walked to the door, and I opened it, indicating she should go inside. She hesitated.

  “Um, shouldn’t we knock?”

  “Nope, we’re expected.”

  Inside, she was confused, glancing around. “Logan, there’s no one here.”

  “The owners are here,” I assured her.

  She looked around again, and I could see the moment realization hit. Her eyes went wide, and she stared at me.

  “What have you done?”

  “Bought you a house.”

  “This house?”

  “Well, if not, then technically, we’re breaking and entering.”

  “Logan…” she breathed out.

  “You love this house. Every time we walk past it, you stop. I see how you look at it.”

  “Logan,” she repeated, her hand flying to her stomach and rubbing it in an unconscious gesture. “How? When? Can we…” She trailed off, the nervous edge to her voice bothering me.

  I rested my hands on top of hers, stopping the constant rubbing. It was a huge tell for her now—when she was upset or worried, the baby got a massage.

  “Hey, everything is good. Come explore with me, and I’ll answer all your questions.”

  We toured the house, and I watched her fall in love. She exclaimed over the original details, the hardwood floors and cove moldings. The layout and size of the rooms. The large converted gas fireplace that would warm the room and look nice on a cold night. She loved the master bedroom that overlooked the backyard with a window seat. The kitchen was a good size, recently updated, along with new appliances, and the bathrooms were fine for now. It gave us a few projects to work on. I planned on turning the basement into a small recording studio, but that was far into the future.

  Lottie loved all the nooks and crannies she discovered—the ones she had imagined the house contained. Her enthusiasm grew, her longing evident, and judging from the belly rubs, her nerves. She paused by the large bay window in the living room, looking outside.

  “A Christmas tree would look great right here,” I murmured, standing behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist. “Imagine sitting here by the fire, looking outside as the snow falls.”

  She turned, tears in her eyes. “I love it, but I don’t understand.”

  I smiled and wiped away the tears. “I saw it go up for sale a couple of months ago. I knew you loved it, so I made inquiries. I came to see it and knew you would love it too.”

  “I didn’t know you were thinking about a house.”

  “I want you to have a home, Lottie. One we can watch our kids grow up in. We’ve talked about a house instead of the condo.”

  “I-I thought in the future. When we’re more financially, ah, steady.”

  There was one chair left in the house. A large wingback I had asked the owners if I could purchase. They had left it, and it sat to the left of the large window. I guided Lottie over and helped her sit.

  “I am very financially stable, Lottie. We both are.” I paused. “I sold some songs to Idleman. He paid me a huge amount of money, plus I get royalties. And he wants more.”

  My writing and songs had taken off in a bigger way than I had ever dreamed. I was sought after by other artists, although my main focus, as always, was Bobby. His career was flying high, and he was in huge demand. We both were. I knew in another couple of years, I would never have to worry about money again. Especially given the simpler way of life we preferred. Buying this house had been an easy decision. A smart one, her father had informed me, a small gleam of pride in his eyes.

  “Instead of investing in stocks, I’m investing it in this house. In our future.”

  She blinked. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “I was waiting to surprise you.” I cupped her cheek. “I brought your dad to see the house. To get his advice.”

  Her eyes grew round. “Oh.”

  “He helped me with the offer. The man is a shark.”

  She chuckled. “Not a surprise.”

  I drew in a deep breath. “He wanted to buy the house for us in lieu of a wedding gift. I told him no.” I knew neither Lottie nor I wanted that.

  “Good.”

  “I did, however, accept his offer to hold the mortgage.” I winked. “I’m not stupid enough to turn down a half-percent mortgage. With the big down payment I made and his terms, we’ll own this place in about ten years.”

  “We can do it faster with the proceeds if we sell the condo.”

  “We can. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to sell or rent it out.”

  “I don’t want to be a landlord.”

  “Okay, then, we’ll figure that out. Rex wants the apartment, and Trev is looking to buy. Maybe he would be interested in your condo. I’ll talk to him.” I held her hands. “We have possession, Lottie. The house is ours. We can move in, or if you hate it, I’ll resell it.”

  “I love it. I really do. I can see us here, raising our family.” Her eyes glowed. “I want it, Logan.”

  I smiled. “Good. Since I rejected the house offer, your dad insists on paying for the move. I don’t want you touching a thing, so I agreed. They’ll come in, pack us up, and move us in, and do all the unpacking too.”

  “Wow.”

  “Trev, Rex, and I are gonna host a paint party this weekend. I’ll supply the paint and equipment, the beer and pizza, and we’ll have the place painted in a day. I got a dozen people coming.”

  “Really?”

  I chuckled. “I’ve been a part of lots of them. It’s my turn to collect. I just need you to pick some colors.”

  Excitement filled her eyes. “I can do that.”

  “If possible, I want to move us in in two weeks. We should be settled before Nuggetman shows up.”

  She flung her arms around my neck, holding me tight. “I love it. I love you.”

  I held her close. “I love you, Lottie.”

  She eased back and cupped my face. “Thank you.”

  I smiled. “Welcome home, baby.”

  A week later, Lottie walked around the house, frowning. I followed her, unsure about her mood. Had we painted the rooms the wrong color? I had double-checked before we started, and I was certain we had done it right. I hadn’t let her in the house until I was sure the fumes had faded. She’d been excited to come here today but had been withdrawn when she had woken up, rubbing her back and complaining about her sore feet. She seemed tense on the ride over, Brianna coming with us to see the house. Even she noticed Lottie’s odd mood and was subdued herself.

  “You don’t like it, sweetheart?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  I exchanged a glance with Brianna, both of us confused. Lottie waddled slowly to the wingback, and I hurried behind her to help her get settled. She grimaced as she sat, and I kneeled beside her. “Nugget kicking hard?”

  She nodded, looking distracted.

  “Baby, what is it?”

  “Nothing. I’m just tired. The house looks perfect.” She smiled, but the effort didn’t reach her eyes. They were still dim. She fidgeted a little, then settled, her hand resting on top of the rounded swell of her tummy. I noticed her grimace again and decided she needed to go home and rest.

  “Is the idea of the move bothering you? I swear, you have to do nothing. You and Brianna are going for a spa day, and when you get here, everything will be done.”

  We’d already brought over the nursery items. I’d spent the last two days putting the crib and changing table together. Today, I’d carried in the rocking chair. We were well ahead of the game.

  Suddenly, she gasped, and tears ran down her face. Shocked, I
cupped her cheeks. “Lottie, baby, talk to me.”

  She grabbed her stomach, pain filling her eyes. “Nugget.”

  “What? What’s wrong with Nugget?” I laid my hands over hers, gazing down in panic.

  Brianna laughed. “Uh oh.”

  Then I saw it. Lottie’s water had broken, seeping into the chair, the material becoming darker.

  “He’s coming?” I asked, standing. “He’s early. Dr. Roberts said usually first babies are late!”

  “Not this one,” Brianna chortled. “I’ll get the car.”

  I grabbed my phone.

  “What are you doing?” Lottie asked, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Calling your mother. She’ll know what to do.”

  Lottie groaned. “Just get me to the hospital.” She grabbed my arm. “Fast.”

  “Jo-Jo,” I spoke into the phone fast when she answered. “It’s time. Meet us at the hospital. I need Lottie’s bag.” I hung up, not giving her a chance to talk. Bending, I scooped Lottie into my arms.

  “I’m getting you wet,” she protested.

  “I don’t care, woman. My son is coming!”

  She gripped my neck as another contraction hit her. “Oh god, he’s coming soon.”

  I ran.

  I stared down at my son’s face, transfixed. I had barely put him down since they’d placed him in my arms. Red-faced and screaming, he had settled quickly, making little snuffling noises and burrowing close. He had a head full of dark hair and blue eyes like his mother. Lottie told me all babies had blue eyes when they were born and she hoped they’d change to look like mine, but I wanted them to stay the way they were right now. Other than the dark hair and eyes, he was me, right down to the little fold on top of his right ear—exactly like mine. His jaw was square, and when he opened his eyes, he had a stubborn, determined set to his face.

  I had a feeling I was going to be dealing with a mini me for the next thirty years or so. God help me.

  “You need to put him down, Daddy.”

  I glanced up with a smile. “Soon.”

  Lottie tilted her head. “We have to name him.”

  We had talked names, chosen many, then discarded them. One combination had stuck with me, but I’d stayed silent until my son was born. But looking at him, he suited the name. I was certain Lottie would like it.

  “I have the perfect name. I’ve been keeping it secret.”

  She held out her hand. “Tell me.”

  I stood and settled our son into her arms. She waited patiently as I gazed down at them. My family. I bent and kissed them both.

  “Joshua,” I said softly. “Joshua William Logan. In memory of the men we both loved and lost too soon.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Perfect,” she whispered.

  I wiped under her eyes. “You’re perfect. You amazed me today, Lottie. Completely amazed me.”

  “Sorry about the chair.”

  Bowing my head, I laughed. “The chair is fine. Nothing matters but you and Nugget J.”

  She giggled. “Nugget J?”

  “Gives him some street cred. He sounds badass.”

  She laughed at my silliness, which was what I wanted. She’d been emotional for days and so strong while she gave birth. Intense and focused. Now, I wanted her to smile. Our son was here; he was fine. She was fine. It was time to celebrate.

  “There is a whole bunch of people waiting to meet him.”

  I knew her parents were still there. So were Brianna, Trev, Rex, Gretch, and Bobby. An enormous arrangement had already arrived from the label, plus a personal bouquet from Carmen. There were flowers from the people at the shop whom Lottie worked with, and I had seen the huge yellow duck Brianna had with her the last time I went to give them an update. Lottie’s labor only lasted a few hours before Josh screamed his way into the world, angry and filled with attitude. They all knew he was here and healthy but hoped to be able to meet him.

  From the weary look on my wife’s face, I decided maybe I should send them all away until tomorrow. Except I would allow her parents in for a moment. Charles had been great the past while, even showing up to the painting party. When he relaxed, he was a decent guy, and I knew he was anxious to meet his grandson. I wouldn’t deny him that. I wanted my son to know his grandparents. I wanted them to be part of his life.

  “I’ll get your parents and send the rest of them home.”

  “No, let them come in. They’ve been waiting so long.”

  I sighed. “Okay—your parents first, then a couple at a time, and only five minutes. They can come back tomorrow. Your parents can come in and stay a bit.” I bent and kissed her. “After that, you’re going to sleep.” I smirked as she yawned. “If you stay awake that long.”

  “You’ll stay?”

  “I’m not moving a muscle. I’ll sing you to sleep,” I promised. When she’d gotten upset during delivery, it was my humming that soothed her. I’d sung to her and Josh the whole pregnancy, making up silly songs at times to make her smile. I liked the fact that my voice seemed to soothe them both.

  “Okay.”

  I walked to the waiting room. Several sets of anxious eyes met mine, and I smiled. “Jo-Jo, Charles, your grandson is waiting to meet you.”

  “Have you named him?” Brianna asked. “Or is he still Nugget?”

  “We have. It’s Nugget J.”

  Bobby snorted, but the others stared at me aghast, which made me laugh. “For short. His name is Joshua William. Joshua William Logan.” I felt my throat thicken. “My son.”

  Jo-Jo covered her mouth, and even Charles’s eyes glistened. I held out my hand.

  “Come meet him. You’re going to love him.”

  I walked through the house, unable to stop the smile on my face. Charles Prescott was a formidable opponent, but when he was on your side, the man made things happen. I grudgingly had to admit I was beginning to like him. Watching Charles with Josh in the hospital had shown me the tender, loving side Lottie had often described. He stared down at my son, talking softly, almost cooing.

  I swore my kid had magical powers to bring people together. Maybe his namesake had something to do with it. He had already earned the nickname Joshy, and everyone called him that. I had a feeling once he was old enough to object, he would. Until then, Joshy it was.

  In the two days Lottie was in the hospital, the condo was packed up, moved, and unpacked. My few possessions had been transported, the extra bedroom now a makeshift office and music room. The furniture was placed in the rooms by her mother and Lottie’s pictures hung up. Her mismatched china was in the cupboards. Jo-Jo had resisted and not bought a single new thing for the house with the exception of the gifts for Joshy, which were vast and many. And a full larder and refrigerator, which I was more than happy to accept. And Charles had overseen it all.

  Lottie had been shocked when we came here after leaving the hospital and not the condo, but incredibly happy.

  She looked around in wonder. “It already feels like home!”

  We settled in fast, and the house had seen a steady stream of visitors. The freezer was filled with casseroles, the tables held many arrangements, and there were a lot of stuffed animals in the nursery—the duck taking the most prominent spot.

  I paused at the doorway of the nursery. Lottie sat in the rocking chair, feeding Joshy, cooing at him as he stared up with his big blue eyes. He loved to eat, and his appetite was voracious. I set down a large glass of water beside her, stroked my son’s head, bent to kiss my wife, then settled on the floor. I reached for my guitar and strummed my fingers across the strings. At the sound, Joshy’s head turned.

  “You know that sound, don’t you, my boy?” I murmured. They said it was too soon, but I had been playing and singing to him Lottie’s entire pregnancy. Like his mother, as soon as I sang, he relaxed. He knew music. He knew me. His eyes followed me in the nursery, and he reacted every time I picked up my guitar. I didn’t care what they said. I knew it in my heart.

  “What were you working on ear
lier?” Lottie asked, lifting Joshy to her shoulder to burp him. Her ring caught the light as she stroked his back, following it up with gentle taps. “It sounded pretty.”

  “A new one I wrote.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “Heart Strings.”

  “I like that. What’s it about?”

  I smiled and began to play. I sang softly about my family. Finding the music. The love they inspired. The way my heart had healed. The strings that stitched my heart back in place and held it firm. I wasn’t surprised to see Lottie’s tears. Mine were suspiciously close to the surface.

  I finished, crossing my arms over my guitar and gazing at my wife. “That one is for you and Joshy. I’m not selling it.”

  “You should. The world needs to hear those words.”

  “They get enough. It’s for you. Only you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Bobby and I will record it, but it will be private.”

  She leaned forward, and our lips met over the guitar that brought her to me.

  The one I played for her that helped heal her soul.

  So she, in turn, could heal mine.

  I sat back and gazed at the center of my world.

  My wife, my son, my music.

  My heart strings.

  ***

  Thank you so much for reading HEART STRINGS. If you are so inclined, reviews are always welcome by me at your eretailer.

  I want to thank the admins of The Korner|Romance Reader Group on Facebook. With encouragement of Bedtime Stories on Book+Main, Logan and Lottie got their happily ever after.

  If you love a beta on the streets but alpha in the sheets, Reid Matthew’s story, REID, is a standalone within the Vested Interest series. You meet a sweet, quiet hero in Reid, who shows his alpha side once he finds his other half.

  If you enjoy standalone contemporary romance, Beneath The Scars, is a beloved story that I would recommended as a standalone to read next. It is a Beauty and the Beast themed story set in the beautiful Maine coastline.

  If you’d like another glimpse into Logan and Lottie’s future, click below to grab a little more time with them - Heart Strings Extended Epilogue available at Bookfunnel: https://BookHip.com/GTRJDP