by L. B. Dunbar
“I knew you’d come around,” I tease, pressing off his chest and slipping to sit next to him on the couch. I’m wedged between my two best friends.
“Well?” Jared chuckles, seeing something in my expression.
“I need to go after her. I need to be near her to show her I’m serious. I want this. I want us.” My voice rises as a plan forms.
+ + +
“What are you doing here?” Ivy asks me as I stand outside her last class a week later.
“My future wife goes to school here.” My eyes fall to her belly, which seems to have grown in the days since she left Hawaii, and she can’t hide the pregnancy from anyone. I reach for the backpack over her shoulder and take it from her, hitching it over my own. She takes a few steps down the stairs of the building, and I follow.
“Why did you leave?” I ask as soon as we’re alone, walking through the bitter cold of wet Seattle.
“It was too much, Gage. My uncle and you. I don’t want you two fighting. I don’t want you giving up a dream. I don’t want anyone upset. I just need to take care of me.” She stops walking and rubs her belly. Her face flushes pink in the cool air, and she looks adorable under her knit hat.
“Okay, gorgeous.” I sigh, reaching for her hand.
“Gage, you aren’t listening to me.” She tugs at my hand to stop me from moving.
“I am, babe. We need to slow down, but I want to be here for you.”
Her eyes narrow as she looks at me. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m here for you.”
Her head tilts. “But you live in Los Angeles.”
My lips curve at her pinched expression. “Actually, the band and I are renting a place up here for a few months. We needed to get out of LA, and I found Hawaii particularly inspiring. But then again, I think that was you.” I wink at her.
“You moved to Seattle? For me?” She stares at me, bewildered by the thought. “And Jared and Petty agreed to this?”
After a long talk about our future, the guys agreed with me that a change of scenery was what we needed to regroup. Petty was surprisingly instrumental in suggesting we follow Ivy. He understands my feelings for her.
You love her, man. It’s as simple and complicated as that, right?
“Yep.” I smile wider, but she begins walking away. I twist and follow her. “Ivy, I hate to say it, but you’re verging on making me crazy.”
She stops walking and turns back to me. “I just…I don’t…” Then she steps forward, cups my face, and kisses me in the middle of the cold campus. When she pulls back, she stares up at me with worried eyes. “You know people are going to wonder. They’re going to talk.”
She means social media. Since my kiss on her belly bump, the speculation about Ivy and me has been off the charts. Everyone wants to know if we’re an item when there wasn’t a prior hint, but they’re even more curious about her belly. Baby watch? People are ridiculous.
“Then let’s give them something to talk about,” I whisper. “The truth.”
“And what is the truth?” Her brows pinch.
“I…” I want to marry you. I don’t want you to run away from me. “I miss you.” Her eyes widen.
“I’ve missed you, too.” The softening of her expression and her voice draws my lips back to her. We kiss for several minutes, soaking up one another until I realize how cold her cheeks are.
“We need to get you home, but first, dinner. Are you hungry?”
“Always.” She laughs, and a weight lifts off my shoulders as I swing my arm around her shoulders and tuck her into my side.
20
IVY
For two and a half months, Gage is a doting boyfriend. He picks me up from classes and takes me to my clinicals at a school for the hearing impaired. Gage tells me I’m an angel for the work I want to do to bring music to those with difficulty hearing it, but I have my reasons for working with those differently abled. It’s the one thing I keep from him.
We date. We talk. We learn about each other, and we share numerous bits of sexy time.
But he never spends the night.
We have too many close calls, he warns, and he’s afraid an overnight would be more temptation than he can handle. He has the patience of a saint regarding sex with me, and while I still whine about us not doing the deed, I can’t complain about the multiple orgasms he gives me.
As winter turns to spring, there isn’t much difference in the temperature in Seattle. There’s still a wet chill to the air, and I’m ready for a little break in my studies and some warm sunshine. Fortunate for me, the spring break of my students aligns with the campus break, so I’m heading home—California. My mother’s place is almost as cold as Seattle and very sterile. It’s not the reason I want to get home, though.
Tommy bought me a plane ticket as a car ride from Seattle to LA is too much sitting-still time in my condition. The next time I leave Seattle will be after graduation to have the baby in Los Angeles. I’ll need to drive then to move all my things home. For now, I rent a smallish apartment near campus. I had a roommate for the first three years of college, but I decided to live alone for my final year. I wasn’t a good roommate anyway when my mom was sick. I was almost never in Seattle.
Two nights before my flight, Gage and I are hanging out at my apartment. He’s got his feet kicked up on the ottoman in front of my couch and the television on. His arm drapes over the back of the couch, and he plays with my hair. It’s a typical position for us, and I balance my laptop as best as I can on my belly to finish a reflection paper for my clinicals.
Gage pauses in stroking my hair, and my eyes jump up to the set. The Mouthy Source is hosting a gab session in which they rip on celebrities.
“Turn that off,” I say until the next frame pops up with Gage and me. We’re walking down a Seattle street. We can hardly step outside without having our picture taken and questions posted. His arm draped lazily around my shoulders. I’m laughing about something he said. My hand covering my belly gives away my pregnancy as the last button on my jacket no longer closes.
“Gage Everly. Hot rocker but hold the phone. Mums the word on his sudden girlfriend, Ivy Carrigan, daughter of the late Kit Carrigan. Or rather, mums the word as the rumors of her pregnancy are visibly confirmed,” the first announce comments.
“Can’t hide that basketball,” another announcer states.
“I think they look happy,” the third chimes in, and I have to agree. We do look happy in the projected image.
“But does anyone find it odd she was seen with Cash Bennett before his death?”
My apartment goes silent. I’m not certain Gage or I take a breath.
“Cash Bennett certainly had a reputation, but does anyone else wonder if the baby is his? I mean, Gage Everly wasn’t seen with Ivy say five, six months ago. He was out and about with Sasha Redd.” They talk about us as if they know us personally. Sasha Redd is a red-headed actress, famous for dating rock stars and models. Now that the show mentions it, I do remember Gage seen publicly a few times with Sasha. She’d been at a few of the parties I attended with Cash. Well, not with him, but we were there at the same time, and we left together.
“Anyone check if Sasha’s pregnant, too?” The crowd of announcers laughs, and Gage turns off the set.
We remain quiet until I can’t hold it.
“Well, is she?” I chuckle without humor, realizing Gage most likely had sex with Sasha, and he hasn’t had sex with me. How could I ever explain we waited when it’s obvious I didn’t wait…with someone.
“That’s not even funny,” Gage mutters, lifting his arm over me and swiping over his hair. It’s grown longer since he’s been here in Seattle, and he’s sporting a manbun at the moment. I’d want to lick his exposed neck and bite his scruffy jaw if his tone didn’t irritate me so much.
“Well, you probably had sex with her. Maybe they should check it out.” I don’t know why I say what I’ve said. Deep down, I’m hurt that he slept with her while I hav
e no right to be upset. It was before me. So was my sleeping with Cash.
“At least she wasn’t your best friend.” Oh no, he didn’t. My legs unfold from their crisscross, and I lean forward as best I can to set my laptop on the ottoman.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle this,” I snap, rubbing my hand over my belly, protecting her as I yell at him. He shifts, looking over his shoulder at me.
“You started this. You know I don’t give a fuck if he started that baby. It ends with me.”
I glare at him. “Well, maybe it shouldn’t.”
He scoots forward to the edge of the cushions, resting his arms on his knees and clasping his hands.
“What are you saying?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t keep seeing each other.” I’m saying this more and more often as I grow larger and larger. It’s impossible to hide my stomach, and I don’t want to, but I’m also concerned for Gage. He can’t be a rock god with women fanning over him if he has a wife and kids. The temptation will be too great although I’m well aware of Gage’s strong willpower. Still, the road is an unforgiving place, and Gage is headed for another tour in the late summer.
“We aren’t doing this,” he argues. “Let them talk.”
“But someone like Sasha might be better for you,” I say, and he turns to face me, his expression the angriest I’ve ever seen from him. “At least you’d have sex and a pretty girlfriend who isn’t pregnant.”
“I said we aren’t doing this.”
“But—”
“Does it look like sex is all I want? Do you think I’m holding out until you give in, using marriage as an excuse?” His voice rises, his face turning read.
“I just don’t want to ruin this for you. Rock star lifestyle. Models. Women. Sex on the road,” I add, swallowing the bitter pill of him having carnal knowledge of someone skinny and sleek with shiny red hair and without constraints like a child.
“The only one ruining anything is you when you talk like this. Fuck them,” he says, using air quotes. “And fuck Sasha.” He stands, and I bite the inside of my cheek. You did, I want to say, feeling anger I shouldn’t feel that he was with someone else.
“Fuck them,” he repeats, pointing at the television set while he glares down at me. “The bigger question is what do you want, Ivy?”
Ah, the million-dollar question. I want him, and I tell him often enough, but it’s always mixed up with sexy times. I can’t even question Gage’s feeling because I know he really, really likes me, but is that enough? He’s already invested in the baby, and that’s a plus. He attends all the doctor’s visits, even going so far as to tell the physician he’s the dad and taking the browbeating she gave him about his whereabouts for the first four months. I felt sick after that visit like I feel sick with him angry with me and waiting on an answer.
“You know what?” he snaps. “I can’t do this tonight.” He steps around the couch and slips into his construction-style boots, not bothering with the laces. He tugs his jacket off the pegs by the door and drapes it over his arm. When he turns to give me a final look, I’ve made it up off the couch. As I stand, the baby rolls and gives a little kick. This always makes me smile, and my hand instinctively covers the basketball as the announcer called her. I walk around the couch and stand before Gage.
“The baby’s kicking,” I say, reaching for his hand to cover my stomach. Gage’s shoulders fall, and he shakes his head. He leans forward and kisses my round belly as he often does.
“I love you, baby,” he says to the kicking motion within me. As he slowly stands upright, his eyes lock with mine. “I’ll always love you, no matter what.” He’s talking to the baby still, but the look he gives me pierces my soul. He doesn’t love me yet, he often says to clarify, but he says we’ll get there. Love. But he loves the baby. Tears well in my eyes as he looks away from me.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. I’ve got a thing with the band later tomorrow night, so I don’t think I’ll see you before you go. Have a safe flight.”
I’m gob smacked by his exit. He never skips kissing me, and he’s never looked so sad. I collapse to the floor, clutching my kicking baby who seems to know I’ve been in an argument.
That’s right, little fighter. It’s only you and me. We’re the only ones I can count on.
+ + +
“Baby girl.” The familiar endearment from my uncle makes my eyes swim as I step into his arms two days later. Gage didn’t call. He sent a text. We didn’t see each other although I don’t recall him having a thing, as he said. I rapidly blink away the traitorous tears, not wanting my uncle to worry or know my troubles with Gage.
“How you feeling?” he asks, pushing me back so he can look at me and the bulging stomach that bumped into him when he hugged me.
“I’m good,” I tell him. I have a doctor in Seattle for regular checkups and another doctor in LA for the delivery, but this isn’t really what he’s asking about. I’d like to tell him I’m happy because, for the first time in a long time, I am. I’m happy with Gage, despite our fight, which brings a sting to my eyes.
Is it really over between us?
When I think about him, I realize he’s good for me. The longer we’re together, the more I accept I’ve missed out on the benefits of a boyfriend. Food delivery service. Late night phone conversations. Holding hands. And kissing. So much kissing.
“How’s Seattle?” He redirects his question as we settle on the leather couch. My uncle keeps a loft-style apartment in LA although he could live in my mother’s house. He doesn’t like the sterile feel of it any more than I do, and it’s one reason he refuses to move in there. He also says the house is mine, and he doesn’t want to impose, but I don’t really have a say in what happens with the sprawling ranch up in the hills outside LA. I’ll never live there once I graduate, which reminds me I need a place to live.
I’ve been thinking more and more about the next steps in my life. Finding a job doesn’t seem like a possibility with my focus on graduation and the arrival of the baby. I worry if I don’t get a job right out of school, though, I’ll lose valuable time and training experience. It’s a constant quandary for me, but as I sit next to my concerned uncle, I know things will work out. Somehow.
“Seattle is great.” I muster up a cheerful voice and will away the tears over Gage as I tell him about my classes and clinicals, holding off on the one question Tommy doesn’t like to address. He still doesn’t approve of my dating Gage, saying it’s bad press for him and additional stress for me. In some ways, I’ve wondered if my uncle is right, but after my fight with Gage, I don’t know if there’s anything left to worry about. I hold off the forbidden topic as long as I can. Tommy grits his teeth and clenches his jaw, and I hold my breath, knowing the question that’s coming.
“How are the boys?”
The band has completed a bunch of demos at a studio they found in Seattle, and they seem pleased with their new sound. They haven’t found a new bassist and have decided to forego one for a while. They also haven’t found a manager. Without one, they are the ones to schedule interviews, performances, and more on their own. It’s wearing Gage down as they really are ready for the next level of success.
The thought makes me pause. Gage already has so much stress with the band; he doesn’t need more from me and a baby.
“I don’t want to fight about him,” I state, knowing I don’t have the energy for it with my uncle. But being as he’s all too familiar with me, something in my voice catches his attention, and he reaches for my hand.
“What happened?”
Without warning, I burst into tears. “We had a fight.”
“I knew it,” he mutters, squeezing my hand, but I shake my head.
“It’s all my fault.” This shifts his displeasure to a questioning look. “I don’t know what I want. I mean, I want him, but I don’t want to ruin his life. I don’t want to saddle him with a wife and a child that isn’t his when he’s so attractive and should be out enjoying the wild life
. He could be having sex with pretty actresses. And he’s desperate for success, right on the cusp of it, and I know he’ll go far. He’s so talented and so dedicated to his work, but I’ll be in the way, and—”
“Fuck.” I abruptly stop when Tommy swears. He releases my hand and stands from the couch. Taking a few paces, he stands before the floor-to-ceiling window where the sunshine streams in. Two hands come over his head as he stares out the glass. I don’t know what I said, and with my large belly, I struggle to push myself off the couch.
“Tommy?” I finally stand behind him, wondering what he’s thinking.
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
“I…” He spins to face me as my voice falters.
“You don’t have to answer. It’s in your face. You light up when you talk about him even with all your concerns.”
“What if he’s making a terrible mistake by being with me?”
“What if you’re making a terrible mistake by being with him?” he retorts, huffing in exasperation.
“And being with a man who’s good to me and willing to make this baby his would be a mistake, right?”
Tommy stares at me, crossing his arms before he speaks. “Is he good to you? How? Parading you around like he’s the baby daddy? Social media is eating this shit up, but it’s going to come out the other end when you don’t end up together.”
“Because we couldn’t possibly have a happily ever after, right?” I ask, looking for some direction because the more time I spend with Gage, the less argument I have against us even though we fought about it before I returned home.
“How should I know about happiness? I’ve never committed to anyone in my life, and Lord knows he seems to be committed to you. Moving to Seattle. Taking the band up there. Attending doctor visits.”
“That’s all bad, right?” I ask again although the list doesn’t sound awful.
“Look, he asked me to be his manager in Hawaii, and I refused. Then I told him I would do it if he gave you up—”