Just Sing: An Enemies-to-Lovers Rock Star Romance (Just 5 Guys Book 1)

by Selena

  “Or should I say, Brody Villines, solo artist and owner of this week’s number one single and number one album on iTunes?”

  “No shit?” I asked, unable to contain my smile. When I tried to convey the smile to Uma, though, I found her staring out the window again. Laney would have been in my arms by now, whispering congratulations into my ear, kissing my neck, promising me a private celebration later.

  But Uma was not Laney.

  “No shit,” Nash confirmed. “Must be kids using all those gift cards they got for Christmas. And they’re using them to get your music.”

  “So much for a little EP that only die-hard fans would buy.”

  “Yeah, yeah, get your lady something pretty and celebrate later. Right now, let’s talk tour dates.”

  I glanced at Uma again. Her chin rested on her hand, her other hand curled loosely around the bulge in her belly. She was the closest thing to a lady I had now, and I could just imagine her scorn if I asked her to help me celebrate the success of my ‘lame-ass’ music. I wanted to run straight to the Tuckers’ to tell Laney, but of course I couldn’t do that anymore.

  The knowledge punched a hole straight through my chest. If I couldn’t share my triumphs with her, what was the point? The whole act seemed suddenly trivial. With Just 5 Guys, I’d had friends to share every moment with. The glory was split five ways. Now, it just seemed hollow and lonely. What was success if you had no one to share it with?

  But there was no point in staying here alone, either.

  “How many shows do I have to do?” I asked with a sigh.

  “You’re going to love this. We’ve got twenty-four, all this month.”

  “What?” I asked, jumping to my feet. Uma didn’t even blink. “I thought I told you I wanted to take it easy this time around.”

  “You gotta get while the getting’s good. Today you’re hot. Tomorrow, maybe not.”

  “Don’t schedule any more,” I said sharply. Rain sluiced against the window in front of Uma’s unflinching eyes.

  “Brody, Brody, that’s just one month. We’ve got the rest of the year before you’ll need to put out another album.”

  “I’m not touring the rest of the year,” I said. “I’m going to have a baby, Nash. I’m going to be a father.”

  I’d never said it before. Never believed it. But the conviction in my voice made even Uma snap out of her trance and turn to give me a sullen look.

  Nash barked out that abrupt laugh.

  I couldn’t give either of them the answer they wanted. I didn’t think I could speak if I tried. The weight of the words I’d just spoken had hit me full force.

  I was going to be a father. A father. The thought was terrifying, but exhilarating, too.

  “And I’m just now hearing about this?” Nash yelped into the phone, bringing me back to the present.

  “I’m just now hearing about it,” I said, my eyes locked on Uma’s. She shrank back in his chair, one hand protectively cupping her belly, staring at me like I’d said I was going to rip the baby straight through her belly and steal away with it. “I’ve got to go.”

  Nash yelled something into the phone, but I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed.

  “What was that about?” Uma asked, shifting away from me as I moved toward her slowly, as if she might fly at me at any moment. Or take flight.

  “It’s my baby, too,” I said.

  “Okay…”

  “I think I should get a say in what happens to her.”

  “Okay…”

  For a second, the silence was cut only by the steady thrum of the rain on the roof, an endless drumbeat overhead. “I think we should talk about this,” I said. “Like equals. Not like it’s your baby, and I’m going to support whatever you do. Because I’m not.”

  “Since when? You were all too happy to let me do this alone,” she said, jumping to her feet.

  “Fuck you, Uma. No, I wasn’t. You keep shutting me out. I’ve never told you to do anything alone. I’ve kept you by my side since the moment you showed up, even when it cost me my relationship with Laney. I’m done being on the sidelines. You need to let me be involved.”

  “It’s a little late for that now.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  We stared each other down for a minute.

  “You want her, don’t you?” I asked. “Admit it. You say you don’t, but you don’t want to share her with anyone. Not even me.”

  “I let you feel her move.”

  “Once. In two months. I’m not going to be your sugar daddy, just throwing money at you when you want it. I want to be part of her life.”

  “How does Laney feel about that?” Uma asked, a sneer pulling at her lip.

  “Laney left.”

  Uma sank back down into my chair. “What do you mean she left? When?”

  “She left me,” I said, wilting onto the edge of the bed, all my conviction spent. At the mention of her name, a pit of emptiness opened inside me, threatening to consume me like a black hole. “Right after Christmas.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to think it was your fault, or that it had anything to do with you.”

  “Dude, I’m sorry. That sucks.”

  I rubbed my palm over the ring box, still in my front pocket. “Yeah.”

  “So what now?” Uma asked, twisting the chair back and forth, slouching down in it so her stomach protruded upwards like a little mountain.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m supposed to go on the road. I have tour dates this month, but I’m not going on more. Not for a while. I want to…I think I want…” I broke off and swallowed hard. “I want to be part of her life, Uma. Not just a paycheck.”

  “How are you going to take care of her?”

  “I guess the same way people have always taken care of babies.”

  “But what do you know about it?”

  “Not much,” I admitted, watching the flat grey sky outside spit rain into the cold afternoon. “But you’d be there…”

  Uma pushed herself upright in the chair. “I don’t want to be a mom, Brody.”

  I blinked at her, drawing back. She was so possessive of that baby growing inside her. “You don’t?”

  “No,” she said. “I’ve thought about it…God, like, nonstop. I mean, how could I not think about it? But I probably know as little as you do about it.”

  “I’ll get you some books. I’m sure most of it comes naturally, and we’ll figure out the rest as we go. The same as every other parent.”

  Uma narrowed her eyes. “You’re talking like we’ll be together.”

  “We can raise her together, as long as we want. I’ll take care of you. I want to. This is scary as hell, Uma. You don’t have to go through this alone. Let me be there. Fuck the apartment. Come on the road with me. I’ll do right by you, if that’s what you want.”

  “Like… Get married?” she asked incredulously.

  I took a deep breath and touched the box in my pocket. But I’d never give that ring to anyone if I couldn’t give it to Laney. “I’m from the South, Uma. My girlfriend dumped me so I could do the right thing. I have nothing left to lose. And if we’re keeping the baby, shouldn’t we at least discuss the possibility?”

  “Wow, Brody. That was downright sappy. But as tempting and heartfelt as that proposal was, I’m only nineteen. And no offense, but I don’t actually like you all that much.”

  I inwardly sank with relief. “We can still keep her,” I said. “I’ll be a good dad, Uma. And you might not feel like it now, but you’ll be a good mom.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because,” I said, gesturing to her bump. “I don’t think you can help it. It’s instinct to take care of that baby you carried.”

  “You obviously don’t watch the news if you think every girl has the instinct to be a good mother.”

  “I think you do.”

  “You don’t even know me,” she said, jumping up to pace the room. O
utside, the unremarkable winter rain continued falling in a steady, unending drizzle.

  “I can fix that.”

  “And where do you think we’re going to live? Here? Together? What would your mother say to that?”

  “I have a house in L.A.”

  She stopped pacing in the middle of my floor and spun to face me. “You do?”

  “Yeah. I do. And one in the Hamptons. I only come here to see my family.”

  “Can’t imagine why you’d want to miss that,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “They’re family.” I shrugged. “So. What do you say?”

  “I don’t know, Brody,” she said, slouching onto the edge of my desk. “This is a big decision. You’re asking me to keep this baby, to be a mom for you.”

  “No,” I said, holding up a hand. “That’s not what I’m asking. If you don’t want to be involved, I’ll do it myself. I can hire a nanny. I want to do this. With or without you. I’m just giving you a way to make it work, too, if you want to be a part of her life.” The more I talked about it, the surer I got.

  “What about the music?”

  “I’ll always make music,” I said, my gaze settling on my guitar in the corner. The usual pull began, an itch in my fingers, the moment I gave it attention. “It’s part of me. But I don’t have to make money off it. To be honest, that takes the joy out of it.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” Uma said. “If you sell out.”

  “I didn’t sell out.”

  She snorted. “You’re the definition of a sell-out. Unless you always wanted to be a singing, dancing marionette. And I’ve heard you noodling around on your guitar. You’re not terrible. Not Just 5 Guys level terrible, anyway.”

  I bit back the resentment building in me. “Gee, thanks.”

  “You really have changed,” she said, a grin spreading across her face. “Last time I goaded you, you threw me on the floor and fucked me like you meant it.”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

  “I would.”

  We smirked at each other a second before I remembered who I was talking to. I tore my eyes from hers, focused on the bulge in her middle. “I’m sorry,” I said to her belly.

  “I’m not,” she said. “If you’re going to do it, you might as well mean it. And if you can’t mean it, you can at least get your money’s worth.”

  I suddenly remembered her asking for a refund of her ticket price if she didn’t enjoy it. She’d gotten a whole hell of a lot more than the cost of a ticket, even a front row seat. But I wasn’t going to let her distract me now.

  “I meant what I said. I want to keep her. I’m not okay with giving her away to strangers.”

  “And what if I am?”

  “You can’t make that decision if I want her.”

  “I wouldn’t,” she said, coming to sit beside me. “But… What if I can’t do it? There’s somebody out there who would do it for love, because she wants to. I’m just doing it for duty.”

  “That will change when you see her,” I said, taking her hand. “When you hold her and see her face. And I’ll be here to help, every step of the way. I promise you that much, Uma, even if I can’t promise you all the things I should.”

  “And what happens when you meet someone you can give all the things you should?” Those stormy, violet eyes that made her so recognizable flashed a challenge at me. “You know, the one you actually want to marry? What happens when one of us wants a real family? The other one gets stuck with her?”

  “We’ll work out a schedule. We can be good parents without getting married. Lots of people do it. Come with me, and we’ll work everything out. You’ll be taken care of, and so will she. Let’s just try it, Uma. It’s the right thing to do, for her.”

  “For her,” Uma echoed faintly.

  thirty-eight

  Laney

  “Are you thinking about he-who-must-not-be-named again?” Piper asked, bringing me back to the reality of the bitterly cold day in Central Park. I’d gone to New York with Piper for New Year’s Eve to watch the ball drop in Times Square. It was one of those things I’d imagined doing since Piper went off to school there, something for my bucket list. But then I’d just… Stayed.

  I knew I’d have to leave soon, but I hadn’t decided where to go. I was anchorless, untethered from school for the first time in seventeen years. Until now, the tour schedule and Brody had filled my time. As pathetic as it sounded, without him, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. In my first two weeks in New York, I’d already visited all the main attractions and started to see the ugly, barrenness of the city. Hence the trip to the park, where I could get at least a breath of nature, even if it wasn’t the sprawling fields of home where there was so much beauty it could drown you.

  “Maybe I am thinking about him,” I said, peeling the wrapper further down my vendor hotdog to take another bite. “It’s getting better, though. I promise.”

  “I have some news,” Piper said, crumpling her own wrapper into a ball. “I got accepted for an internship in Paris next summer.”

  “Paris? Oh my God, Piper. Congratulations!”

  “I know,” Piper said. “It’s huge. I was so excited I almost puked when I got the letter. I’ll be working for a real designer, getting a fashion show together.”

  “I’m ninety percent happy for you, and ten percent dying of jealousy,” I said with a little laugh. Maybe it was more than ten percent. I was going to grad school, true. That was my dream. But Piper was going to be working with models, moving on with her glamourous career—and in freaking Paris!

  “You can come visit,” Piper said. “You can share my futon there, too.”

  A twinge of guilt twisted in my belly. I didn’t think Piper meant it as a reminder that I needed to move on, but I took it that way.

  “Hey, Red,” a guy jogging called to us. “Do the carpet match the drapes?”

  “Ugh,” Piper said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t wait to get out of here, if only for a month. I bet people in Paris aren’t nearly that rude.”

  On the overcast day, Piper’s hair seemed even redder than in sunlight, the one bright spot in the whole grey city. It hung around her shoulders in a perfect curtain, straight and even. Suddenly, she looked so grown up, like a real adult about to fly off to Paris on her own and have a glamourous summer of adventure.

  “Let’s go get our hair cut,” I said. “Or at least give me the name of your salon and your girl.”

  “But you love your long hair,” Piper said, looking sideways at me. It was true. I’d always worn my hair long and wild, ever since I’d been a little girl dreaming of being a cowgirl. But I’d turned twenty-three now, graduated college. I needed to stop looking like a fantasy.

  “It’s time,” I said, reaching back to feel my ponytail. It still hung almost to my waist, like a little kid’s.

  “If you’re sure,” Piper said. “But first, I have somewhere better to take you.”

  I balled up the paper around the uneaten portion of my hotdog, now ice cold, and tossed it in a trash can on our way out. Piper got a cab and took me to a tiny shop, completely unremarkable from the street. I could have walked by it a hundred times and not seen it. There it was with a little sign in the window that read Paperie.

  We stepped through the door, and a little bell tinkled, just like something back in Kentucky. Only this was way better than the Office Depot where I went to get school supplies.

  “Welcome to my zen space,” Piper said.

  While Piper flipped through bins of tabbed folders set up on tables like a record store, I scanned the planners. When we’d been in high school, we’d been the career girls at our private school. We didn’t giggle over boys in the bathroom, or play sports, or rebel by rolling up our skirts to show a few extra inches of leg and sneaking off campus to smoke cigarettes at lunch. We planned the future, made endless lists, decorated planners, made scrapbooks of all our extracurricular activities. In short, we were private school nerds.

  Si
nce then, I had let the assumption that I’d been the popular cheerleader sort help me along in rushing for my sorority and stoking the fantasies of my now-ex fiancé. But Piper knew exactly what nerd-girl Laney needed to zone out. We left with bags of stationary and planners, giggling like the girls we had been the last time we did this.

  By evening, the joy had worn off. We weren’t kids anymore. Sure, it was still fun to do crafty stuff. But the world wasn’t so simple I could organize away my worries anymore.

  I told myself I’d done the right thing. If I filled out a planner for each of the next eighteen years, Uma and Brody would be in each one, or they would be in none. They came as a package deal now. Even if she took the kid back to Seattle, and Brody only had to send her a check every month, I would resent her. And I didn’t think Uma was going to go away that easily. Or that Brody would be happy to be nothing but a paycheck to his kid.

  “Hey, you got what you wanted,” Piper had told me when we left Kentucky. “He asked you to marry him, and you said no. You got him back, didn’t you?”

  It was true. From the start, I’d set my sights on a ring. I’d wanted to make him fall in love, to make him ask me to marry him. Brody had done exactly what I wanted—probably what I knew he’d do. Because even when he was in pictures with girls hanging all over him, even when he was breaking my heart, when he was famous and had groupies lining up for a chance to get in his pants, when I hadn’t seen him for years, I knew Brody. I still knew him better than anyone on earth. I’d known exactly how to play him and get what I wanted because I knew under all the fame, he was still a good guy.

  What I hadn’t put into the equation was myself. I had gotten exactly what I wanted. I had broken Brody Villines’ heart. I just hadn’t expected it to break mine, too.

  February

  thirty-nine

  Brody

  One night in mid-January, I climbed on the bus after a show to find it quiet and apparently empty. The tour schedule was relentless and grueling, and I barely saw Uma. But she was always there when I got on the bus at the end of the night. She might be huddled on the pullout bed, sleeping, but she’d be there. Tonight, I didn’t see her anywhere, and a curdled feeling settled into my gut when I didn’t find her in the main room.