UNBROKEN (Friends, Lovers, or Nothing Book 5)

by Jackie Chanel

  “I know, Summer. I didn’t think you wanted a tree here.”

  “Aiden,” Mom said. “Why wouldn’t she want a tree a at her father’s house?”

  “Well, why hasn’t Sara put one up? She lives here too. Or are you celebrating Kwanza this year?”

  “You are wrong for that,” Sara laughed. “Tyler isn’t even crawling yet so Tahir and I don’t really need to celebrate Christmas. We both have to work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day anyway so what’s the point?”

  “Aww man,” Summer moaned. “I want a tree.”

  After my Detroit trip, it was nice to come home to peace and quiet, especially since Sunny and I have one more trip to Atlanta to see Pastor Hodges before she’s not able to travel anymore. I’ll be glad when that day comes because she needs to sit down somewhere until Aiden Jr. gets here.

  Mom was hanging out with Tyler and Summer when I got home from Shay’s rehearsal earlier. Sara was still at work and Sunny was somewhere in Los Angeles with her team. Mom fixed dinner and we were just sitting down at the kitchen table when Sara came in and joined us.

  “Have you interviewed the DJs for the wedding?” Sara asked. “Isn’t entertainment still your department?”

  “I don’t have to interview anyone. I know who I’m getting and I’ve already talked to them.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s not your business. Aren’t you in charge of flowers?”

  “Food,” Summer corrected me. “Aunt Delilah is in charge of flowers.”

  “And what are you in charge of, Summertime?” I teased.

  She frowned. “Nothing. Mommy said I got to wait to get bigger to help.”

  “That’s crap,” I said. “I’ll think of something you can do.”

  While Mom and Sara cleaned up, I took Summer upstairs to the music room so we could practice a little. I could have taken her out to the studio where it’s soundproof but Summer has to learn that being in a recording studio is a privilege. She can’t just go in there without earning the right to be in there. She’s still learning how to read music. It’ll be another year before she’s ready to strap on the real guitar I’m having made for her.

  “Daddy, what’s this one?” she asked, pointing to an eighth note.

  I explained what it was and showed her how to play it on the piano. While I was doing that, my text alert when off. When I found my phone, I wasn’t surprised to finally have a text from my fiancée and another from my ex.

  Sunny: Just got home from the video shoot. Gonna take a bath and go to bed.

  Completely exhausted. Don’t worry about coming over tonight. I won’t be any fun.

  Ramey: Hey, I’m about 10 mins away from you. Can I stop by w/ the book?

  I replied “Ok” to both messages, separately of course, and then went back to testing Summer on her music notes.

  “That’s ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’!” Summer exclaimed when she realized that she was actually playing a song. “I can play ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’! Call Mommy and tell her!”

  I could only smile at the excitement on her face. There’s no doubt that Summer has my DNA. She is a natural, just like me. ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ was the first song that Paulie’s father taught me on the guitar.

  “Aiden!” Mom yelled from downstairs. “Ramey’s here. Should I let her in the gate?”

  “Who?” I heard my sister yell. “Mom, did you just say Ramey?”

  Because this house is so big and open, and I haven’t installed any type of intercom system, there was always a lot of yelling. My ‘mind your business’ to Sara just was a necessary addition to Sara and Mom’s loud conversation.

  “I can’t just mind my business on this one. What is Ramey doing here?”

  Ramey and Sara weren’t great friends while we were married. They weren’t mortal enemies or anything like that, but I could see why there was concern in Sara’s voice.

  “Me and Ramey got business that does not concern you,” I said as I walked down the hall to the stairs.

  “Or your fiancée,” was Sara’s smart reply. “Obviously.”

  “None of my business with Ramey ever concerns Sunny,” I muttered, already tired of hearing the accusations that were sure to come after Ramey left.

  Mom, on the other hand, has always liked Ramey. My mom is the reason that Ramey finally agreed to our final divorce settlement. Our lawyers and mediators were no help. Ramey was in a position to drag out our divorce for years. I didn’t know until after the papers were signed that my mom asked Ramey to fly to Mt. Vernon and spent a few days with her daughter-in-law. After Ramey got back to Los Angeles, I got the call that she was ready to sign the papers.

  Ramey and my mom were sitting on the couch talking when I walked into the living room. After Fashion Week and people started seeing Ramey back in the runway, she’s been working more than she had in the last few years and it showed. Sitting on my couch, she looked like the supermodel she was when I first met her. Her signature white-blonde hair was pulled back off her face and hung down her back like a sheet. She was wearing all white, from her leggings to her tank, and a blue leather motorcycle vest…her off the runway but still working look.

  “Where are you headed?” I asked.

  “I have a shoot in St. Tropez then I’ll be walking in a show in Rome after that. I’ll be gone for a week, but…” She stood up to hand me a thick manila envelope. “I wanted to give you this before I left. Do you know when you’ll have an answer?”

  I took her by the arm. “Let’s walk.”

  We went out the front door and started walking down the driveway.

  “I thought you were going to renovate,” Ramey commented on my house. “You haven’t changed anything.”

  “It’s an eight million dollar house. I shouldn’t have to change shit. Besides, I changed my mind when Sara moved in because she was pregnant. It would have been too much.”

  “So, they all live with you now? How’s Sunny taking that?”

  “It is what it is.” I admitted. “She might not like the arrangements right now but it’s how we live. So, here’s the thing, Ramey. I’m going to be truthful about this book. I really don’t care anymore about what you wrote as long as your intention isn’t to hurt Sunny. Be honest with me, are you doing this out of spite?”

  Ramey shook her head. “Aiden, I don’t give a shit about Sunny and her feelings. I didn’t write this book with her in mind. She just crossed my path in New York and pissed me off. That’s the only reason I emailed her. I just want my career back for me and the kids.”

  “Kids? When did you have kids?”

  “You didn’t know I had another baby a year and a half ago? How did you not know that?”

  “Because you didn’t tell me that. I don’t go around asking questions about you. All I ever see you post on Instagram are bikini shots.”

  “So you Instagram stalk me?”

  “You followed me first. So what did you have? Another girl?”

  “A boy.” She smiled proudly. “His name is Hendrix.”

  “You named your kid Hendrix, Ramey? You’re so Hollywood!”

  “Hendrix is a great name. Everybody loves his name.”

  “Including the Wine King?”

  Ramey frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that. He owns a vineyard. That’s it.”

  “He owns two of the biggest vineyards in California. That’s why you married him.”

  “Don’t worry about why I married him. Anyway, back to my book. Are you going to sign the release forms now that you know I’m not trying to hurt your precious Sunny?”

  I hesitated because I don’t like giving Ramey ammo to use against me; she already has enough.

  “Look, I can’t have this book come out before my wedding. If I have to hold out on signing those papers then I’ll do that.”

  Ramey sucked her teeth and exhaled loudly. “It’s always about that bitch with you. Jesus, Aiden! Grow some fucking balls. Who really gives a shit about what Sunny knows about us? I’m
actually a little pissed off that she doesn’t already know about the things I wrote. I was your damn wife!”

  “But you’re not anymore and she’s about to be so I do give a shit about what she knows.”

  “Well, your wedding is in April and we aren’t releasing the book until May so you should be fine.”

  Ramey stopped walking and faced me. This time she was no longer angry.

  “What?”

  “There’s something towards the end that I’d really like to talk to you about before you read it. I just don’t want you to be surprised by what I wrote. Can you fit me in next week when I get back?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll be in Atlanta.”

  “I can meet you in ATL.”

  Hell no! No way in hell that was a good idea. I told Ramey that I’d call her when she got back to LA and left it at that. When I got back in the house, I sat the envelope on top of the piano in the music room and forgot about it.

  ***

  Pastor Hodges was on time. I was on time. Sunny was running late. Judging by the text she sent me, she probably wouldn’t even make it to our session. Apparently, Asia’s photo shoot for some athletic wear was more important than the pre-marital counseling that was her mother’s idea in the first place.

  After reading the text from Sunny, I put my phone back in my pocket and told the pastor that we could get started without her.

  “You don’t seem that bothered that she’s not here,” Pastor Hodges pointed out.

  “Oh, I’m bothered. But I’m also used to this. She has always put work before anything else.”

  I sensed that the pastor wanted to go deeper into that subject, but being workaholics is not our main issue. We’re devoted to our careers and there’s nothing wrong with that. I just want to move on and get through the next hour simply because I agreed to twelve hours of pre-marital counseling and this was only hour three.

  “Aiden, you don’t want to sit in here and talk, do you? This really isn’t your kind of thing, huh?”

  I nodded because he was right. I don’t do counseling. The whole couch thing is a ruse. It doesn’t work. He may have known Sunny her entire life but Pastor Hodges didn’t know me; just what he heard about me.

  “If you’re hungry, I’m down with hitting up Six Feet Under. I’m in the mood for some seafood.”

  “Works for me.”

  During the drive across town in my Lamborghini, Pastor Hodges surprised me by wanting to hear my fourth album, Nothin’ But the Blues. We chatted about my career and how I came to be a blues player. I was surprised to find out that he had played a little trombone and trumpet back in the day.

  There was a line outside of Six Feet Under. As soon as I opened the door of my Lambo, everyone recognizes me. There as a slight frenzy of picture taking but nothing like it is in LA. We even got seated without everyone freaking out.

  “Is that normal for you?” Pastor Hodges asked after we were seated.

  “It’s different in every city. In LA, well, that’s Hollywood. People are used to seeing celebrities everywhere. It’s the paparazzi that is the problem. They harass the hell out of us just to get a picture they can sell. Here, this is home. I was in the scene here before I got a deal. They like that I’m famous but I’m always here so it’s not a big deal. Now they’re just like, ‘oh, Aiden’s town. Let me see if I can get a pic.’ It’s all love here.”

  “And what’s it like in Chicago? That’s where you’re from, right?”

  “I’m actually from Mt. Vernon, Illinois. But I don’t go back there that often. And Chicago, I have fans there but they have more important problems to worry about than celebrities.”

  “Gotta ask, man. Would you be able to give up all of this if you had to? The fame, the lifestyle?”

  “Not if it means giving up my music. Fame is a side effect of being a great musician. I deal with it because I can’t not make music.”

  “Not even for your marriage?”

  My answer was quick and concise. “If I thought that was something Sunny would ask of me, I would never have proposed. We wouldn’t be getting married. Hell, we wouldn’t even be together. Why? Do you think that she’d ask me to do something like that?”

  “Well,” Pastor Hodges hesitated. “You know that I’ve known Sunny since Peaches and Jermaine brought her home from the hospital. Sunny will never admit it but she is more like Peaches than she thinks she is. And Sunny wants what her mother has, a traditional marriage with traditional roles. I think that Sunny will expect a lot more of you and demand more of you than you will of her. And before you commit to marriage, you have to consider how you’re going to deal with that.”

  Pastor Hodges had a softer way of putting it, but it was essentially the same words of advice I’ve gotten from everyone who knew Sunny for more than a few months. Maybe it was time for me to actually consider what they were actually telling me.

  It’s becoming crystal clear that Sunny’s focus is on something else. I don’t know what it is but it’s not me. It’s not our wedding, and from the consistent absences from family moments, I’m starting to question if her level of commitment to our family is the same as mine.

  If the purpose of getting out of the church office and having dinner somewhere that was more up to speed was the pastor’s idea of delivering advice that he really wanted me to think about, he definitely achieved that mission.

  I have a lot to think about before April twenty-third.

  Chapter 23: Livin’ on a Prayer

  I HATE EXAM ROOMS, always have. I hate them even more than hospitals. They’re so cold and obnoxiously sterile. I wish Aiden were with me for this appointment. However, when Dr. Margolis called me and said she wanted to see me ASAP, I sensed that this was one time I didn’t need my protective baby daddy lingering around to hear this news.

  “You haven’t been staying off your feet or resting, have you, Sunny?”

  “I’m planning a wedding, Dr. Margolis. Plus; I have to work.”

  “Sunny,” she said disdainfully. “We talked about this. The swelling in your legs and feet isn’t normal pregnancy swelling. Your high blood pressure…these are definite signs of preeclampsia. You have to take it easy or you and your little girl aren’t going to make it.”

  For the first time since I got pregnant, I was actually scared. Dr. Margolis’ morbid diagnosis was the news I had been dreading. I’m not dumb. I’ve been online looking up my symptoms for weeks. Preeclampsia had been gnawing at my gut for a long time so I wasn’t surprised when I broke down in tears in the exam room. Dr. Margolis put her arm around my shoulders.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you, but this is really serious. I need to keep a close eye on you and your blood pressure. I have no desire to deliver your baby early but you have to do your part and what I tell you to do. If your blood pressure doesn’t stabilize soon, we might have to take her at thirty-seven weeks and I know you and Aiden don’t want that.”

  “What do I need to do?” I asked, already mentally bracing myself for the answer because I knew exactly what she was going to say.

  “Bed rest for the next eight weeks to start. That will put you right at thirty-seven weeks. I’ll know by then if we should do a cesarean and get you back healthy.”

  Eight weeks on bed rest? When the suggestion was made back when I was twelve weeks, I thought Dr. Margolis was just being dramatic because I was fine. It’s true that this pregnancy has been harder than my last and I do not want my baby in any kind of danger, but eight weeks and a cesarean seem a bit overly cautious. Granted, my doctor has not met my mother or any of my friends but she has met Aiden. She has to know that eight weeks of his hovering would be equally as stressful as working in the S.T.Y.L.E.Z studio twelve to sixteen hours a day.

  “Is eight weeks non-negotiable?”

  Dr. Margolis nodded. “Absolutely. Non-negotiable and the bare minimum. Sunny, I understand that you and Aiden lead very busy lives, but you are not the first celebrity I’ve had to put on bed rest for months at a ti
me.”

  “I’m not a celebrity,” I muttered.

  “Okay, dear, but you still need to press pause on everything until that baby comes. I know you don’t want to cause your baby any harm if you can avoid it.”

  She was right of course. I didn’t want to hurt my child. I just to suck it up and do what I had to do.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Just tell me everything I need to do.”

  Dr. Margolis smiled. “Good. I want to do an NST on the baby in two days. I’ll have Heather schedule that for you. I’m sending you home with a blood pressure monitor. You need to check your blood pressure twice a day at least six hours apart. I want you in here once a week for a urine analysis and to check the baby. If your headaches continue, we may have to admit you and put you on a magnesium sulfate IV.”

  Damn, she was serious. This wasn’t going to be an easy eight weeks that’s for sure, and I didn’t have a clue what to tell my baby daddy.

  As it turned out, I didn’t have to tell Aiden immediately. He was on the road with Joey scouting talent in New York. Scouting talent was what he called it but I knew better. Checking out his competition was more accurate. There was some twenty-year-old YouTube artist that was racking up views with his performance of Cream’s ‘White Room.’ Jealously was the motivation for that trip.

  Meanwhile, I confided in my mother what the doctor told me. Peaches, Aunt Kat, and the twins were on the next thing smoking to help me ready the house for my long-term stay. They prepped one of the spare rooms for Jess to move in. Mama and Aunt Kat hired a chef and a housekeeper, and Peaches called my dad to let him know that she’d be staying with me for as long she needed to, which I hoped was a week at the most.

  Dr. Margolis hadn’t exactly said that I had to stay in bed all day. I could go up the stairs but as infrequently as possible. I could move around my house but no lifting and absolutely no working out on my treadmill. I felt so helpless and out of control. In two short days, my life had been overrun with people who loved me but I couldn’t wait for Aiden to get back. There was no way he could be as overbearing as Jordan, Mikayla, Aunt Kat, and my mother. They meant well but I just needed Aiden’s arms around me and to hear him say that everything was going to be okay.