Wicked Serenade: a Lost in Oblivion Collection

by Quinn, Cari

  He was hoping to do the same thing now.

  He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer. Flicking his phone to life, he went to the last website he’d been reading. “This would be easier on our iPad, but I didn’t bring it.”

  “More like Jazz confiscated it.”

  Deacon kissed her temple. “Because Simon busted three of them now. Idiot.”

  Harper scooted down, curving herself into the line of his body. “What am I looking at?”

  “Evidently whatever I Google, I end up back here at this Parenthood site. And I read something about Fetal Alcohol something—”

  “Syndrome.”

  He nodded. “But only from prolonged alcoholism. Does that sound like us?”

  “I can think of someone, but it ain’t us.”

  Deacon sighed. He had to agree with her. In their circle there was a lot of drinking, but it had never really been their thing.

  He rested his chin on top of her head and started reading aloud. He felt her slowly relax. She asked a few questions, but for the most part she just listened.

  Eventually her head slid down to rest along his forearm and she grew heavier in his arms as sleep took her. He read until his battery died, loathe to move and wake her.

  And finally his eyes grew heavy as well and he curved around the back of her. He pressed his hand to her belly, cradling them both in his arms.

  * * *

  Harper woke to a furnace behind her and way too many freaking lights on. She winced as her bladder made it known that rolling over wasn’t in her future.

  She slipped out from under Deacon’s heavy arm and reached for the lamp beside the bed and quickly extinguished the light.

  “Harper?”

  “It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

  “Where are you going?” His voice was barely a rumbling whisper, coated in sleep.

  “Bathroom.” She leaned down, coasting her fingers through his hair.

  “’Kay.” He stretched out diagonal on the bed, kicking a foot out of the sheets before rolling onto his belly like he did when he was truly out. The man could take up a bed.

  She went to take care of Mother Nature’s wake up call, coming back out to turn off lights as she went. The pizza was a lost cause so she left it on the counter for morning. Knowing Deacon, he’d eat it with his coffee. Her husband, the human garbage disposal.

  With moonlight as her guide, she wandered around the little cottage they’d called home for the better part of a week. It held a lot of amazing memories and a lot of pain. She landed at the back door where the moon-washed pergola cut shadows against the cottage, slicing over Deacon’s form on the bed.

  She should crawl back into bed with him and sleep. Her brain still felt fuzzy with the few hours down she’d managed. Restlessness chased that idea away. She’d end up tossing and turning until she woke him up. A flash of light caught her eye. Her phone lit up with some sort of notification. She crossed the room, snagged it out of her bag. The lure of the hammock, waves, and fresh air was too tempting to resist.

  She’d just check emails to get her mind off things. Decisions that she didn’t know how to make left her brain feeling too big for her head. Between Deacon’s random avalanche of trivia about pregnancy and her own knowledge of the flip side of the coin, she was on information overload.

  A shit ton of email didn’t help the overwhelmed feeling. So, for the first time in her life, she ignored work emails. Annie said she would take care of them while she was on her honeymoon. Instead, she clicked open stupid emails like US Weekly’s barrage of celebrity gossip. She let out a soft laugh at Simon’s smirky smile on the sidebar. Evidently their dear Simon had been seen out and about with some actress from a summer blockbuster movie. She actually wanted to see that movie. Uninterested in any of the other articles, she flipped back to her email.

  Lost in Oblivion, Life in the Studio part 1.

  She clicked on the video link and Jazz’s adorable face filled the screen. She babbled about songs, about the cool studio they were working in, and was pretty much a ray of sunshine with orange strips in her hair.

  Harper missed her.

  Missed talking and laughing with her. It was them against a gang of guys. They had to stick together.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she flicked open her starred contacts and called Jazz. If she didn’t answer, she’d just hang up.

  “Oh man, you better not need bail money, Lawless.”

  Harper gave a soft laugh that turned terrifyingly into a sob at the sound of Jazz’s voice.

  “Holy crap. Harper? Are you okay? Is Big D okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’m sorry, Jazz. I just needed to talk to someone and…”

  “And I never sleep.” Harper heard rustling, the slap of computer keys, then a muffled voice. “Okay, mama. Tell me what you need.”

  Harper hung her foot out and set the hammock to rocking. “I saw your video.”

  “Yeah? It’s gotten a bunch of hits already, and the comments are blowing up.” Suddenly she stopped. “Somehow I don’t think you called to talk to me about my little video. Especially since you should be in prime naked time on your honeymoon. You only have two days left.”

  “Yeah. Things are a little bit of a clusterfuck at the moment actually.”

  “You guys don’t really fight. What happened?”

  Harper turned her face so she could see the tide and the moon-soaked beach. Should she just blurt it out? She shouldn’t say anything. It sucked to get her caught in the middle of the whole thing.

  “Stop overthinking and just tell me.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “Holy shit!”

  Harper could hear her bouncing. Literally.

  “Are you freaking kidding me? You guys are going to have a Mini D? Or a Mini H? Oh, man. That is so awesome. This is huge. Epic. Oh my God, I’m going to be the most amazeballs Auntie Jazz. Seriously. Do you have to be Catholic to be a godparent?”

  “Jazz—”

  “And wow. Seriously. You guys are going to be the most perfect parents. Can’t you see D with those big hands holding on to a little baby? And hair…holy crap, between the two of you, this kid is going to be all hair.”

  Harper closed her eyes, unable to stop the flow of tears. That had been the one thing she kept blocking herself from doing. To actually see Deacon with a baby in his arms. For such a big man, he was nothing but graceful and gentle.

  “Did you figure it out before you guys left?”

  Harper sniffled. “Yesterday.”

  “Oh, wow. So are you like, yacking your guts out on your sex-a-thon vacation?”

  “No, actually. I’m having a creepy aversion to most foods, but no upchucking, thank God.” Well, except the one time at the bar, but that had been more about the horrifying realization that she’d drank so much the night before.

  “So are you guys excited? Man, I’d be excited. Well, maybe not about the manster child growing inside me. Damn, girl, your guy is not tiny.”

  Harper slid her hand over her flat belly. Jazz was right. Deacon was not a small guy. The baby would be part her too—if she kept it.

  “You’re really quiet, Chef Girl.”

  “The timing on this isn’t the best, Pix.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She heard the honest puzzlement in Jazz’s voice. As young as Jazz was, obviously with her, the thought of a baby overrode things like…God, do I keep it?

  “You guys are going into the studio and will be touring right around the time I would have it.”

  “Harper, we’re talking about a baby, not an it.”

  She hadn’t allowed it to be a baby. It had been so much easier that way. It was a problem to solve. And now…suddenly the baby was far more real.

  Deacon’s voice was in her head from earlier. That the embryo was the size of a comma. That he or she would be just starting to develop. In two more weeks, the baby would be so much more.

  “We—I was thinking tha
t maybe it would be best to wait.”

  “You want to have an abortion?”

  The word was so final. So loud and accusatory in Jazz’s normally sweet voice. And then Harper bowed her head. Jazz had been a foster child. Shit.

  Stupid, selfish idiot, Harper Lee.

  “We don’t know what we’re doing yet. We just got married. I never thought I’d be pregnant at twenty-three.”

  “Right.”

  Jazz’s voice was so soft. Harper wanted to rip her damn tongue out for hurting this girl. Even unintentionally.

  She wanted to be excited like Jazz. She wanted to do cartwheels and be planning baby showers and rooms and figuring out names. And maybe she would be like that if they’d actually planned and talked about it.

  But they hadn’t.

  And she didn’t know how to feel. She couldn’t match up the emotions with the huge wall of fear and dozens of what ifs.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Harper whispered.

  “What has Deak said?”

  Harper felt the slide of tears down her temples as she focused on the star-strewn sky above her. Anything not to break down again. Because she really didn’t know what Deacon wanted.

  And she knew that was her fault.

  He was taking his cues from her. And she was so completely a hot mess. Deacon only knew how to be the support guy. When had he actually ever demanded something from her?

  Well, besides the caveman routine to get her to marry him. But that had been sweet and romantic in his way. And she’d loved that he’d taken charge like that. She’d never tell him that, of course. Secretly, she’d loved it. To know that he was so very certain.

  It had helped make her more certain.

  Maybe that’s what this whole situation was missing.

  Her rock was flailing just as much as she was.

  “I’m going to say something and it’s only because I love you guys so much. I know it’s none of my business. Not really.”

  “I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t want your input, Jazz.”

  “Good. Because you’re going to get it.” Jazz took a deep breath. “This might not be planned. And I know we’ve talked about this over a jug of sangria a few times…but this whole crazy whirlwind you have with Deacon. It might be just your thing. Plans have their place. And sometimes the cosmos, or fate, or God, whatever you want to call it…sometimes it has other plans.”

  Harper set the hammock to swaying again. “Maybe it does. I never thought this crazy life would give me Deacon.”

  “Maybe fate is giving you a family now because it’s time. Not the one you planned, but the one that is perfect for you in the end.” When Harper didn’t immediately respond, Jazz cleared her throat. “Just a thought.”

  “I think I needed to hear that. Thanks, Jazz.”

  “Whatever you decide to do, you’ve got me in your corner.”

  “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

  “You got that right, mama.”

  “Oh, and Jazz?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I hate to ask—”

  “You don’t even need to. Your secret’s safe with me until you’re ready to tell the masses.”

  “Did I mention you’re amazing?”

  “You may have.” She laughed, and the pure light of Jazz happy filtered through the phone.

  Harper said her goodbyes and pressed her phone to her chest. She watched the stars for a while, rocking herself into a calm that she hadn’t felt in days. As the sky lightened and the stars lost their pinpoint luster, she finally stood and returned inside.

  She slid into bed, immediately comforted by Deacon’s warm body. Instinctively, he curled around her, and their joined hands covered her stomach.

  Thirteen

  Honeymoon 2.0

  Deacon cleaned up the last of the pizza from the night before. Pouring the second mug of coffee had him feeling a little bit clearer. Harper hadn’t moved from the middle of their bed. She’d made a strange little cocoon in a patch of sun, practically pushing him out of bed.

  He didn’t have the heart to wake her. Not when she hadn’t really slept the last few days. He was itchy to run out the last of the cobwebs in his head, but didn’t want her to wake alone.

  So, he would wait.

  And try not to be creepy guy watching his wife sleep.

  At least try. He had yet to look away from her for more than five minutes. He was seriously going to need an hour with his heavy bag and weights when he got home or he was going to go out of his mind.

  “Is that coffee?”

  Deacon paused with his mug at his lips. “Maybe.”

  “That very fine ass of yours should bring me over a cup.”

  He went to the coffee maker and pulled down a teacup, fixing it the way she liked. He’d read that pregnant women should limit their caffeine intake, but he didn’t want to start the day off with them in the shutdown mode of the other day.

  So…compromise. Small cup.

  “You know, it shouldn’t be cute when you objectify me like that. And yet.” He crossed the room.

  She peeked over the down comforter she’d confiscated sometime through the night. “Well, I wouldn’t drool so much if you didn’t work out like it was your job.”

  “Want me to stop? Get fat and sloppy?”

  “Knowing the fairness in this world, you’d probably just get skinny.”

  He grinned down at her and held out her coffee. That was exactly what would happen. He’d been a skinny fuck until he discovered the gym at seventeen. But she didn’t need to know that.

  Harper’s hand came out, snatching the cup, her blue eyes meeting his. “What if I do?”

  He lowered himself to the side of the bed before his feet went out from under him. “Are we speaking hypotheticals here?” he asked carefully.

  Harper looked down at her cup. “Deacon, what if I wanted this baby? Would you be on board with that?”

  Yes.

  Holy fuck, yes.

  He couldn’t hear around the litany in his head. Hadn’t known that he’d wanted her to say those words so very badly.

  “I would move heaven and earth to keep you happy.”

  Harper rolled onto her knees and put her cup on the bedside table. She inched over until she was in front of him, her hands on his chest, her eyes direct and intense. “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Yes.” His chest heaved. “Yes, I want this baby.” He leaned into her until their foreheads touched. “I never want to put pressure on you to do something you don’t want, but God, yes.”

  From the moment she’d said pregnant he’d felt sucker punched. In the dark of that pier, with a storm coming up on them, he’d lost his breath and hadn’t quite ever gotten it back. The idea of a family had been a nebulous one. In the hazy future. Every day since she’d told him, it got clearer.

  Amazingly, Harper’s arms came up and around his neck. She caught his mouth in a desperate kiss. Again he tasted tears. He pulled her back. “Hey, hey, hey.” He cupped her face. Tears starred her lashes and dripped down her cheeks. But there was a smile there.

  A huge smile that had been missing for days.

  “How the hell are we going to do this?”

  He brushed his nose against hers. “Together. Just like we do everything else.” Someday she’d believe that without him having to convince her. “We’ll figure out a game plan. You’re not alone anymore. You’ll never be alone again.”

  “All I could think about was how hard it was going to be. I didn’t even let myself think about a baby. And last night, all I could think about was the baby part. Of course a crazy conversation with Jazz helped too.”

  He brushed her hair away from her face. “You called Pix?”

  She nodded. “God, you should have heard how excited she was. She scared the crap out of me talking about how big you were and how big the baby might be.”

  Deacon’s eyebrows snapped down. “Jesus.” Harper was tiny as hell. “I—”

&
nbsp; “Any clue how big you were when you were born? Ballpark figure.”

  Deacon scratched his head. “Uh…I think I was nine pounds maybe?”

  “Of course you were.”

  “But we might have a girl.” In his head all he could see was a girl. “Your hair and smile, my dimples. She’d rule the world.”

  She laughed, swiping away tears that were still free-flowing down her cheeks.

  “Are you sure?” He hadn’t meant to blurt out the question, but they’d run the gamut of emotions for the last few days. He didn’t want regret. Not when the happy high faded and things got hard. Because it was going to be hard.

  “I’m sure about you. I’m sure about us. I’m sure I’m going to be a maniac,” she said with a hiccupping laugh. “I love you, Deacon. Everything about us has been in fast forward and it’s scary as hell, but maybe that’s what makes us work.” She tucked a wavy lock of his hair behind his ear. “If the world let me overthink everything, look at what I’d miss.”

  He hauled her into his arms, kissing her until the tears were sealed in with happy laughter. He rolled them back onto the bed that smelled like peaches and cocoa butter. Into the bright sunlight that lit up the white so it was almost blinding. He rolled under her, dragging her up to straddle his chest, her knees jammed under his arms. He lifted her shirt to see the tanned expanse of her flat stomach. She held the shirt up as his fingertips feathered over her sides, while his thumbs stroked the downy smooth skin on either side of her belly button.

  So many changes were coming. He’d freely handed this woman his heart. He thought that had been an incredible feat. And now he’d found out he had so much more waiting in reserves. There was an incredible love growing inside him for someone who hadn’t even arrived yet.

  Harper covered his hand, dragged his palm up to her breast to cup it. The heat from her nipple instantly pushed any thoughts of babies to the back of his mind. He swiped his thumb over the tight tip, then tugged just the way she liked.

  And as he’d discovered, her hyperactive sensitivity brought things to another level. Only this time he knew what to expect and just how to take care of her. She sighed, her head tipped back as he continued the soft caress. He pushed her shirt higher, burrowed under to replace his hand with his mouth. Hot silk skin came alive under his touch. He circled her nipple, but avoided the tight center. He moved from one to the other, taking his time to taste her everywhere except that exquisite tip. She growled out his name as she gripped the headboard with her free hand. “You’re killing me.”