by L. B. Dunbar
“He told me about that,” I interrupt, expressing my irritation with the ultimatum.
“And it still didn’t stop him from asking me for your hand in Hawaii.”
I don’t even blink. I just stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Then I swallow. “And what did you say?”
Tommy sighs, swiping a hand through his hair. “I told him I’d never deny you happiness if he makes you happy.”
My shoulders fall, and my stomach drops. The baby kicks inside, and tears fill my eyes again.
“He does make me happy, but I’m scared. For him. For me. For us.” I rub my belly to emphasize my point.
“Do you love him, baby girl?” Tommy asks, staring at me with wonder in his eyes.
“I think I do. I think I really do. I’m all tingly inside when I think of him, and it’s not just the baby. I want to be near him all the time, and the way he touches me—”
Tommy holds up a hand to stop me, so I change course.
“The way he cares for me. About me. At first, I thought it might just be the baby. He checks my diet and rest and goes to the doctor with me, but then he asks about my day and my classes. He asks about specific kids at the school, and I know he’s listening to me. Really listening. He doesn’t care who Mom was or who you are. It’s me.” I point at my chest, feeling overwhelmed that I haven’t recognized all he’s done to show me he wants me.
Do you think I’m in this just for sex? Using marriage as an excuse?
My fingers cover my lips as reality hits me. He wants me.
“Oh my God, Tommy. I said some really terrible things.” I bite my lip with the threat of more tears. I don’t deserve to cry. I was so mean, and I never answered him.
What do you want? Him. Only him.
“Then you’ll need to say you’re sorry.” His lips twist, and he exhales. “Family does that.” I stare up at him, hoping I’m not misinterpreting his meaning.
“Does this mean you’re giving me your blessing? If I say yes.”
Tommy opens his arms, and I step into him. “I’d never be able to tell you no, baby girl. Never.” He squeezes me tight to his chest before releasing me. “And remember, family loves unconditionally, too. Keep that in mind.” I don’t know what he means, but the doorbell rings, preventing me from asking.
He steps around me and opens the door. Then he steps back to reveal a hesitant Gage, hands in his pockets and a sheepish look on his face. I don’t speak. I don’t move. I just stare at him. He’s so good looking—dark soulful eyes, deep scruff, and a fresh haircut to his chin. He takes my breath away, and I rush forward, hoping he’ll catch me.
“What are you doing here?” I say, breathing him in as my arms circle his neck, and he holds me against his chest.
“I called Tommy.”
I peer over Gage’s shoulder at my uncle who leans against his open door, head bent in thought. “You knew?” I ask.
“Family,” he mouths and winks at me. His smile is sad, but he isn’t unhappy. My uncle needs someone to match his goodness and give him love like Gage gives me. “I’m going out,” he says, leaving his place and closing the door behind him.
“I’m so sorry,” I mutter into Gage’s neck. “I am a crazy woman.”
“Hey.” He chuckles, pulling back from our embrace. “Never call a pregnant woman crazy.” His lips curl in a slow smile, and I press up to cover them. His mouth opens, instantly meeting my tongue, twirling ours together. His hands cup my face like he does, and he holds me to him through the connection of our lips.
I love this man. If I didn’t realize it before, I accept it as the truth now. I love him.
But there’s one thing left to tell him about me before I admit my feelings. I draw back from the kiss, and when he goes for my forehead with his lips, I toy with his T-shirt.
“Can I ask you to go somewhere with me?”
He presses me back by the shoulders, peering down at me with a questioning look. “Anywhere,” he offers without hesitation although he’s curious.
“Just don’t ask any questions until we’re there, okay?” He nods, and I walk to the kitchen area, leaving a note for my uncle and grabbing a set of keys out of a drawer.
21
IVY
My mother’s car is a baby blue 1969 Mustang convertible. It was a gift from the man who loved her, and she denied. I look over at Gage as I drive, not wanting to give him directions and explain where we are headed. As we work our way up the hills beyond LA, Gage combs his fingers through his hair. His hand rests on my thigh while I drive, not wanting me to release the steering wheel to hold his hand. He seems nervous without knowing why. I, on the other hand, have all the reasons to be frightened.
As we pull up to the iron gate, I announce myself, and the security fencing opens. The slant of the driveway keeps passersby and nosy neighbors from seeing the front entrance. I know Gage will notice the wheelchair ramp leading up to the door first. His fingers stop moving as his brow pinches. He hasn’t looked over at me, but I’ve been sneaking glances at him. As we park, I watch his reaction to the house.
He isn’t impressed with the size or the landscape. It’s a rather dated looking building. A sprawling raised ranch in white brick. It’s Hollywood glam from the 70s and needs an update. Tommy doesn’t want to invest the money, and I’d sell the place if I could.
“This is my mother’s house. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” I’d like to warn him to keep an open mind, but I don’t want to taint his opinion. If Gage can’t accept what’s inside, we’ll have an issue I can’t bypass. I press open the car door but struggle a little with the weight of it and my size. Pregnant women and fancy sports cars aren’t really made for each other.
“Wait,” Gage warns and hops out, rounding the hood and helping me with the door. He then reaches for my hand and helps me step out of the car. I cover my belly with two hands as he holds my elbow and we walk up the thick set of stairs leading to the dark double doors. Gage’s eyes shift to the wheelchair ramp and back to the entrance.
I knock as if I don’t have a key and wait for someone to answer the door.
“Ivy!” The housekeeper shrieks, reaching out for a hug before even offering to let me inside. Luella Bates has worked for my mother as long as I can remember. She pulls back and runs a hand over my belly. I’d be upset if she were a stranger, but she’s almost as familiar with me as my mother. With cappuccino skin smooth as a grape and eyes as big as the juiciest of them, her bright smile and her chocolate chip cookies could cure any sadness I felt as a child.
“Luella.” I sigh with a warm smile that matches hers as we step inside.
“You look just as beautiful as your mother did when she was pregnant.” I pause at the comment as my mother didn’t have Luella when I was born. Mother was a struggling singer with a deadbeat husband and duet partner, trying to make it in LA after leaving Texas. She didn’t have the money she would later have when I was little, which means Luella is referencing the person I want to introduce to Gage.
“Luella, this is Gage Everly.” Luella grabs his offered hand with both of hers and shakes it several times.
“I’m so happy to meet the father of my beautiful girl’s baby.” I open my mouth to clarify the truth, and then I stop myself. Gage gives me a curious look until he notices I’m not correcting her.
“We’re here to see Lawson,” I explain instead, and Gage’s brows pinch in question. My palms sweat. I’m not as worried about the fact I’ve kept Lawson from him as I’m worried Gage won’t understand Lawson. Luella nods and leads us to the extra-large living room. She excuses herself, and I take a breath as Gage looks around the room. A large circular couch in white. White brick chimney above a white brick fireplace. White walls. White tile. White. White. White. It’s so sterile my skin crawls. Wheels squeak down the hall.
Gage looks at me and then at the entrance of the hallway behind the fireplace when a large wheelchair with a grown man comes into view. His finger curl on one hand, his arms permane
ntly raised to his chin. His mouth hangs open in what I call his smile. His other hand rests on the tray across the wheel. His knees turn inward. His feet crossed on top of each other.
Gage turns to me for explanation, and I swallow.
“Gage Everly, this is my younger brother. Lawson Carrigan.” Gage turns from me and looks back at Lawson, whose head rolls on the headrest of his chair. The nurse stands behind Lawson, waiting out his mood for the day. It’s hard to tell as he isn’t verbal. “He has severe cerebral palsy.”
Gage doesn’t look at me but watches my brother.
“He was born like that.”
“I’d never heard you had a brother.”
“My mother kept him a secret. She didn’t want the press using him or turning him into something he wasn’t. She worried they wouldn’t be compassionate about him. Sometimes, I think it was all an excuse. She didn’t want people to judge her. She claims his father was a roadie, and it painted her as a wayward singer. I have my own suspicions who he belongs to, but no one’s ever confirmed it for me.” He doesn’t ask me who I think Lawson’s father is, and I’m relieved as that isn’t my focus. I’m watching his reaction to my brother.
“Can he hear me?” Gage asks, turning his attention back to Lawson.
“He can hear, but he can’t speak. He has an assistive device for minimal communication.”
Gage walks over to my brother, swiping his hands on his jeans as he crosses the room.
“Hello, Lawson,” he addresses him in a voice a little too loud. “I’m Ivy’s friend, Gage.”
My chest pinches at the word friend, but any other word would be too complicated to explain to Lawson. A moan comes from his open mouth, and his head wags again. Gage looks at me for direction, and I walk over to them.
“Lawson knows I’m pregnant,” I say to Gage, although speaking of Lawson in third person. “I’m going to be a mother,” I address Lawson. I don’t say Mom as this makes my brother cry sometimes, and I can’t handle a meltdown from him today. I’ll have to explain this to Gage later. I’ll have so much to explain when Lawson is no longer in the room. “I brought Gage here to meet you today. He’s been visiting me at school where I’m learning to play music.” Lawson’s arm bounces, and I wish I had the rhythm sticks he loves with me.
“Lawson’s the reason I went into music therapy,” I say to Gage as I reach out to hold Lawson’s curled fingers. “When I was little, I’d bang these rhythm sticks together. I’m not musically inclined, despite Tommy and my mother, but Lawson would laugh in his way when I played them. Like he enjoyed the music I made for him. Later, we learned he did like the beat. This made my mother proud.” I pause.
We’re all quiet a moment.
“Connie,” I address the nurse. “Can you give us a couple of minutes, and then maybe we can have lunch with Lawson?”
Lawson nods his head as if he agrees with lunch, and Connie tugs Lawson’s chair backward. Gage rises from his crouched position. He watches Lawson disappear, and then he turns to me. Questions fill his eyes.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know about him, but you have to swear you’ll never tell anyone about him. I should have had you sign an NDA or a gag order or something before I brought you here.” I panic a moment, worrying I’ve made a mistake. What if Gage tells someone? Tommy and I agreed we’d do all we could to keep Lawson a secret to honor my mother.
“I only want to know why you didn’t mention him before, but a gag order? Jesus, Ivy, don’t you trust me?” He stares at me, swiping a hand through his hair and holding a portion at the back of his neck. His other hand slips into his front pocket.
“It isn’t that. It’s just…she blamed herself for his condition. Drinking. Smoking. Possibly had drugs in her system when she became pregnant. There was no way to know what caused this to happen to him, but it didn’t matter. We love him as he is, but my mother especially. Lawson was her secret. The one thing they’d never know, and she liked it that way. She loved him for it.”
“I get that, but why not tell me?” His voice rings with hurt.
“In some ways, I feel like it’s not my secret to share. I’d tell the world if I thought it would make a difference, but I don’t think it will. They’ll ridicule her from the grave, and who knows how they’ll play out Lawson. Not to mention, we aren’t clear on who his father is, but what if the press finds out? It’d be a field day for no reason.”
Gage stares at me. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”
I glance away, looking at the large picture window to the side of the fireplace. The bright light emphasizes the white.
“There’s a possibility my baby could be like Lawson.” I take a deep breath. “I’ve been tested, but there isn’t really a test to determine if it will happen or not. It’s a possibility, but so far, the doctors seem to believe I’m in good health, taking care of myself and the baby, and it isn’t likely. Still…” My voice drifts. There are no guarantees.
Gage continues to stare at me, processing what I’ve said. His brows pinch in concentration. Then his face morphs to anger.
“You think I won’t marry you because the baby might turn out like him?” He points from my belly to the hallway, and he’s shouting. The burst of anger startles me and echoes through the hollow feel of the room. He might be angrier than the fight we had in Seattle. His chest heaves, and I wrap my arms around myself, finding the move to be unconscious and the stance protective.
“I still want to marry you, Ivy.” He strokes fingers throw his hair, tugging at the back. “I want to have the baby.” He points again at my belly. “And I want to love you all the days of my life, but right now, I’m so angry you’d think this of me. Think I wouldn’t accept the risk. The baby. No matter what.” He huffs again, blowing out air through his lips. His hurt hurts me.
“Why, Gage? Can you tell me why you want to marry me? Love me, yes. Live with me, sure, but marriage?”
“Ivy,” he groans. “I want it all. Happily ever after and all that falls before it. Fights and fucking. Kissing and cuddling. I want family. More than the band, who are my brothers, I want something for me. And you’re it.” His hand covers my belly. “All of you. Baby. Lawson. Tommy.”
“Okay,” I say softly, rubbing my belly and keeping my eyes on him.
“Okay? Okay! That’s all you have to say.” His voice rises as he slaps a hand on his jeans-covered thigh. He turns his head, averting his eyes from me.
“Okay,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes as I stare at him. Please don’t walk away.
“Wait.” He pauses, twisting his head to face me. “Wait. Okay what?” He exhales. “Okay, as in okay, you’ll marry me?
With tears spilling down my face, I slowly nod, still holding my belly where the baby is bumping and kicking inside me. “I’ll marry you.”
Gage continues to stare at me, unblinking. He steps forward, grabbing both my hands.
“Oh my God, Ivy. Yes. You’re saying yes.” He starts to laugh and swipes at his eye. His face clouds before me, and then his mouth crashes over mine. The kiss is happiness and promises and forever. He doesn’t release my lips as his tongue joins the celebration. He swallows my relief and my fear and my love.
“I’m going to love you so hard, Ivy,” he says when he pulls back. “Love you both.” His hand comes to my belly, and he smiles when the baby presses back against him with a happy kick.
“Now will you have sex with me?” I tease, and he laughs, a hearty head-tipped-back laugh.
He lowers back to my forehead. “Nope.” He chuckles again and then kisses my nose. “Not until it’s legal. And stop trying to get me to fuck you. You can have in my pants whenever you wish.”
If only my wish could come true this second.
“But I want you in me,” I whine, pressing up to place my lips against his while I speak.
“Good God, gorgeous, are you trying to kill me?” he teases. “I want to let loose in my jeans when you talk like that to me.”
&n
bsp; I respond with a pouty, petulant lip, but I suddenly see the sweetness in waiting. He wants to prove to me it isn’t sex. It’s me. All me.
“Soon, gorgeous. So soon.”
22
GAGE
The guys sublet our apartment when we moved to Seattle until June, and I can’t touch her like I want at her uncle’s, so I book us a room for the night at the Ritz-Carlton after we return to her uncle’s place for our things.
Ivy says she isn’t hungry since we had a long lunch with her brother. I watched in wonder as she spoke to him, and he communicated back to her in his unique way. I might have fallen in love with her a little more if that was even possible. When we enter the hotel room, I suggest a bath for her. I want her to relax. I think we both know tonight is going to be a game changer for us, and we each need a minute. I start the bath for her, testing the temperature, and then pour in a ton of bubbles.
“You should join me,” she teases, but I kiss her temple.
“Take a few minutes for yourself, okay? Meet me on the rooftop when you’re ready.”
She sheepishly smiles at me and nods to agree.
The rooftop won’t offer us a hundred percent privacy, but as it’s a cool March evening, only a few guests linger on the low-lit pool deck. A bar rests in one corner of the space with outdoor heaters, and the minimal patrons stick to that area. Double-sized loungers surround the illuminated pool with enough space between them for private conversations.
I secure a lounger in the furthest corner and order a whiskey on the rocks. I’m dressed in jeans and a white button-down with a suit jacket. It isn’t my normal attire, but I want the moment to be more than my ratty jeans and tight-fitting T-shirts. Ivy must feel the same way because she crosses the pool deck in an ankle-length dress with scrunched material over her breasts.
She giggles as she shivers when she draws near me. “It’s chillier than I thought.”
She takes my breath away as I watch her walk. Her eyes reflect in the pool’s light. Her skin seems to glow. The dress accentuates her pregnancy. She looks gorgeous with her hair piled on top of her head. I stand to shrug off my jacket and wrap it around her as steps up to me. Holding the coat over her shoulders, I kiss her tenderly, tugging on her lips, not missing a curve or dip of the sensitive skin.