One Song: book two in the one series

by Best, Victoria J.

  Fuck.

  “I’m still in LA, but, uh, I can’t drive right now. I’ll get an Uber to the hospital. Text me the address and I’ll be there.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” Natalie hung up and I stared at the phone for a second before I could do anything else.

  I was pissed at myself for getting this drunk. It was irresponsible. I had a son who was medically fragile and could need me at a moment’s notice. What the hell was I thinking?

  As I waited for Natalie’s text, I shot off a quick text to Todd, letting him know there was an emergency and I had to leave. After it came through, I ordered an Uber and waited on the curb, the tepid LA night doing nothing to snap me out of my drunken haze. I felt like an asshole, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it at this point. When the car pulled up to the curb, I jumped in before the guy even had a chance to fully stop. The whole way there, my gut churned with hard liquor and worry. Worry for Christopher. Worry about Natalie being alone in the hospital and upset. Worry I had fucked up by going out and getting drunk when I should have been thinking about my kid.

  By the time we reached the hospital, I had worked myself into such a frenzy I had to vomit. After a stop in the closest restroom, and a splash of cold water on my face, I felt a little better. Making my way to the information desk, I swallowed hard against a lump in my throat before asking for directions.

  “Can you tell me where your ER is, please?” I asked the older, heavy-set woman behind the counter.

  She pointed to her right. “Take that hallway all the way to the end, until you can’t go straight anymore, and turn left. You’ll see the signs once you get down there.”

  “Thanks!” I called as I hustled off to find Natalie and Christopher, urgency gripping my chest.

  From now on, I would trust my own damn instincts and go the hell home.

  28

  Natalie

  “I just thought you would like to know, Dad. But I guess I was wrong,” I barked into the phone in a whisper-like hiss so as not to disturb the other people in the waiting room.

  I had stepped out of Christopher’s room to call my dad and wait for Rhys. Why I even bothered to call my father was beyond me. Silly me for thinking he would want to know his grandson was in the hospital again. The same man who stayed by my side almost every day for months, bringing me food and telling me he would always be there for us, was now the man who was ignoring my phone calls and dismissing me on the phone. Apparently, he only wanted to be there for me when I did what he wanted.

  Sighing, I pulled the phone away from my ear for a moment, turning away from the prying eyes of the other people waiting as tears slid down my cheeks, and I tried not to sob.

  “Well, I have to go anyway. The doctors are waiting for me,” I spit the lie out before he could respond to my previous comment.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this, Natalie. If you come home, we can work it all out.” Dad’s stern voice made me flinch, even through the phone.

  “Yeah. I know. You only care about Christopher and me when I do what you want me to do,” I snapped, at my breaking point. “Bye, Dad.”

  I hung up the call, not waiting for him to respond. My chest was tight with the urge to cry but I held it back. This wasn’t the time. Christopher needed me to be strong and I would be. I glanced around the waiting room again, searching for Rhys because I was getting antsy to go back to the baby. As I was pocketing my phone, I saw him sprint around the corner, his eyes and hair wild. When he saw me, he slowed down, taking a deep breath as he ran a hand through that unruly but sexy as hell hair. His eyes were bloodshot and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his nose and forehead. Something was off but I didn’t investigate further. I was just glad I wasn’t alone anymore.

  “Hey,” he panted, leaning over with his hands on his knees.

  “Hi. The doctors were in with him now. I came out to meet you. And call my dad.” New pain at my father’s rejection gripped my chest but I tried to mask it by clearing my throat. “Follow me.”

  I didn’t wait for him, but turned and headed towards a set of double doors back to the room they had Christopher in. I was trying to hide the tears that were filling my eyes again. Lack of sleep and worry were getting to me but I couldn’t let Rhys see me break down. He would only feel sorry for me, and I didn’t need his pity.

  I stabbed the call button for the double doors, and they buzzed open. I hated how comfortable I was in hospitals now. What I wouldn’t give to have had a regular full-term baby. But Christopher was perfect to me, no matter the complications. I was just always so worried about his health and wished he didn’t have to be in the hospital.

  “He’s in here.” I motioned to a room coming up on the right.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t home when you called, and that it took me so long to get here.” Rhys’s voice sounded funny, but I couldn’t figure out why.

  “You actually got here pretty quickly. I was worried you went back to San Diego after the concert and wouldn’t be able to meet me, so it was fortunate you were still in the city.”

  We entered the room, two doctors and a nurse surrounding the tiny cot my baby was laying on. My heart squeezed at the sight of him—so tiny still, with tubes and wires again. When would it be over?

  “Missus Livingston, Mister Livingston.” The first doctor looked between the two of us as he mislabeled Rhys.

  “Oh, no. Christopher’s father’s name is Rhys Beckett,” I clarified.

  The doctor’s round cheeks pinked a little at my correction. “I’m so sorry. Being in LA, you would think I wouldn’t keep doing that.”

  I chuckled. “It’s all right. Don’t worry about it. How is he?” I switched the conversation back to the real reason we were here and away from the awkwardness that was the relationship between Rhys and me.

  The doctor’s face grew serious again and he exchanged a look with his college before they both turned back to us. The male doctor, whose nametag read “Dr. Michaels,” began to speak again.

  “Looks like little Christopher has the beginnings of bronchitis. You actually caught it very early, which was excellent because sometimes with preemies, bronchitis can develop quite swiftly into pneumonia. That’s the bad news. The good news is, because you caught it so early, he will need a round of antibiotics, but he doesn’t have to stay in the hospital. I’m confident that if we send you home with a nebulizer for breathing treatments and close monitoring, he should be fine by next week. You seem to have his delicate health under control as best as you can.”

  Dr. Michaels words sank in, making me breathe out a sigh of relief. The vise around my heart released a little bit. It also made me feel better to know the doctor thought I was doing well by Christopher. I was always so worried I was doing everything wrong. Not being able to breastfeed because of his hospital stay tore me up, moving away from the only family he had ate me alive with guilt every day, but medically, I was doing just fine.

  “Oh, thank God,” Rhys said after the doctors had left the room, with the promise to send the nurse back in with the prescriptions and paperwork.

  He ran his hands through his hair again before sinking into the chair I pulled next to Christopher’s crib. Quickly bouncing back up, appearing to be filled with nervous energy, he leaned over Christopher and put his hand on his chest.

  “Hey, buddy. You doing okay?” he cooed to our son, his voice gentle and soothing.

  More tension left my body at his tone and his presence. Somehow, Rhys being here made me feel calm, like everything would be okay. I tried not to read too much into it as I walked up next to him and stared down at the baby.

  “I’m so relieved he doesn’t have to stay overnight. I hate being here, so much,” I admitted, my hand joining his on Christopher’s abdomen.

  Our fingers were touching, tingles sprouting across my hand and spreading up my arm at the contact. It was hard to ignore, but I tried because this was not the time. I couldn’t help my head from snapping up to look at him, his doing th
e same, as our eyes met. We were standing inches apart, our bodies so close to touching, I could feel the heat from his arm radiating to mine. And even though I wanted to move because I couldn’t deal with my emotions towards Rhys at a time when Christopher was monopolizing my whole mind, I couldn’t.

  Somehow, Rhys had become my stabilizer, my rock, my support when I didn’t even know I needed or wanted it, and feeling the warmth from his body next to mine calmed my nerves in a way nothing else had. Where my father made me more distressed every time he was with Christopher and me, Rhys’s presence gave me peace. He calmed my mind and body, and it terrified me.

  “I’m going to stay here, with you and Christopher, for the week. I don’t have another show until we go to San Francisco at the end of the month.” Rhys’s words snapped me from reverie, and it took me a minute to process what he said.

  “What?” I asked as the words sank in.

  “I’m staying in LA. In case you need me,” Rhys clarified, though what he said finally reached my brain.

  We were still standing there, our hands slightly touching, as we leaned over our son. My stomach began to flutter at the prospect of Rhys staying with us for a week.

  No, I couldn’t do it.

  “Rhys, I don’t think that’s necessary. We’ll be all right. If we need you, I’ll call and you can come up. I’m sure you have a lot to do to prepare for…”

  “No, I’ve missed too much already. I’ve been absent when you both needed me. I’m not doing it again. I was at a fucking club, drinking, when you called me earlier. What kind of shit father am I? Nope. I’m staying.”

  He finally moved away from the crib, and I felt a chill run down my spine at the absence of his warmth. This was not good and being with him for a week would only make it harder. I had to learn to get by without him. One day, Rhys would figure out he didn’t want me anymore. He would find someone good, someone worthy of the type of man and father he is and I will be left out in the cold. I don’t doubt he will always be here for Christopher, but that doesn’t mean I will always be able to lean on him when I need him. He will have new relationship, more children, and it will all be with someone else. Better for everyone involved to cut my losses now.

  “Seriously, Rhys, we’re fine.” I tried to sound adamant, but it was difficult.

  “I’m doing this, Natalie. If I have to sleep on your damn porch, I’m not leaving.” His voice raised a few octaves as he pointed his finger at me, to make a point.

  I sighed. Clearly, I was fighting a losing battle this time. It would be better to give in now and deal with it tomorrow, when we were both rested and rational. When we weren’t staring at our son in a hospital crib again.

  “Okay, okay.” I held my hands up in surrender. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.

  “You don’t have to apologize,” I assured him.

  We were standing next to each other again, and he pivoted to face me. His eyes latched onto mine again, their cobalt blue depths giving away more than they ever had. Raw emotion hid there, under something else I couldn’t identify. My heart galloped like a runaway horse, making my chest ache. In that moment, I couldn’t think of any reason why he shouldn’t be with us, though I knew there were at least a million.

  I wanted to believe what was in his eyes, but the part of me that still hated herself wouldn’t let me. Here he was, this wonderful, caring man, telling me over and over again that he wanted me, wanted us, and the only thing I could think about was how he was going to be so disappointed. Rhys was telling me something with his eyes, making me a promise, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it. Would I ever be ready?

  “Rhys,” I breathed, our bodies so close this time I could feel his breath on my face.

  “Natalie, I need you to stop thinking for a moment and just feel,” he said, so softly I could barely hear him.

  I didn’t have a chance to even ask what he meant with his words, because his lips were on mine seconds later. The kiss was firm and sure, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I felt like I was going to fall apart every time Rhys kissed me, just fly into a million tiny pieces as his hands tried to gather me together. To keep myself from shattering, I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him back with fervor, my tongue entangling with his as his hands gripped my hips.

  For a time, I forgot where we were, what was happening, and every fear and regret I had. There was only Rhys and me—floating on ecstasy as our bodies pressed together, our hands roamed, and our mouths warred with one another’s.

  The loud sound of someone clearing their throat burst my bubble of utopia and I jumped back from Rhys, smacking the back of my calf on a chair. I winced as pain sliced up my leg, and bent down to rub it. Rhys stood still in the middle of the room, a slight smirk of chagrin on his face at being caught by the nurse. My face heated, and I continued to rub my calf while looking down, so she couldn’t see how foolish I felt.

  “Miss Livingston, Mister Beckett, I have the paperwork for Christopher’s discharge,” the nurse said, her voice carrying a silent reprimand.

  Irritation replaced my embarrassment at the tone of her voice. Who the hell did she think she was? It wasn’t any of her business what Rhys and I did or didn’t do, and for her to act like we should feel ashamed pissed me off.

  “I’ll take those,” I snapped at her, snatching the papers from her outstretched hand.

  The look on her face changed quickly as she realized that my ire was directed at her. She walked into my son’s room uninvited, and acted like Rhys and I were doing something wrong. Rage was bubbling in my chest, the old Natalie with her cruel words and ability to make other people cower at her harshness starting to come to the surface as I formulated what to say to take this woman down a few pegs.

  Then, I felt Rhys’s hand on my shoulder, once again trying to deescalate my anger, to bring me back to reality. The rage that was building began to subside at his touch—slow, massaging circles on my shoulder. He was right behind me, his proximity and touch making my heart rate slow and my breathing even out. Within seconds, I realized it wouldn’t do anyone any good to make the nurses hate me—quite the opposite, really—especially if Christopher had to come back. Her judgment didn’t hurt me or Rhys, it didn’t make or break the way we lived our lives, but it did make her look like the foolish one and not us. Because of this, I let it go.

  “Thank you,” I added, though my teeth were still clenched a bit at the sentiment.

  Her eyes widened but she nodded and turned on her heel to walk out of the room. It wasn’t my fault she was a prude.

  “I thought you were going to lay into her,” Rhys said with a slight laugh.

  I looked at him, feeling my face heat for a different reason now. “I was, but I thought better of it. It wouldn’t help us to have the nurses here as enemies when it seemsChristopher may be spending a lot of time here in the future.”

  “Good thinking.” Rhys tapped a finger gently against my forehead and my stomach somersaulted at the contact. I felt like a teenager with him sometimes.

  I looked down at the papers in my hand so I didn’t have to look at him anymore, afraid I would get lost again. “I’m gonna fill these things out so we can get out of here,” I said, sitting in the same chair that injured me.

  “I’m sorry about the kiss. I know we had a deal about being just friends. I think I still have a little buzz.” Rhys moved back to Christopher’s crib as he began to fuss, lifting him to his chest, and sat in the other chair with him.

  I wondered what to say to him at that. We were both willing participants in that kiss. It wasn’t like he was taking advantage of me. But I did understand why he felt the need to apologize, especially since I made such a huge deal out of being “just friends.” I wanted to tell him it was okay, but I also wanted to make sure he knew we had to try not to let it happen again, no matter how difficult it was.

  “Rhys, I should be apologizing to you
. I’m all over the place right now and I think I’m giving you mixed signals and I promised myself I wouldn’t do that.” I couldn’t look at him as I said it, so I focused on the paperwork instead.

  “Yeah,” was his only response.

  I couldn’t get a read on his tone, so I looked up. Our gazes collided like a tractor trailer crash, taking my breath away for a moment.

  “I get it, Nat,” he added, but I knew he could tell my reaction to him was anything but “friendly” by the slight smirk on his face.

  Something told me this was going to be the longest and hardest week of my life.

  29

  Rhys

  Natalie’s house was silent as I waited for her to finish getting Christopher settled in his bassinet for the night. It was late, well after midnight, by the time we got back to her cottage. Lines of exhaustion creased her forehead and dark smudges appeared under her eyes. Yet she still refused my help with putting the baby to bed. I didn’t have any fight left in me as the alcohol seeped from my system replacing the buzz with exhaustion. It had been a long day for everyone. So, I let her go without a fight, especially since she agreed to let me stay for the week.

  I was just glad Christopher didn’t have to spend another night in the hospital.

  Resting my head back on the soft cushions of the couch, I closed my eyes for a moment as my mind wandered. Guilt still ate me alive because I was drunk when Christopher and Natalie needed me. But I couldn’t change the past—I could only be a better father in the future.

  “Are you asleep?” Natalie whispered the words and I smiled.

  “No,” I said with a chuckle, lifting my head up to look at her.

  Sometimes, when I least suspected it, her beauty snuck up on me, making me feel like a fist was lodged so squarely in my chest I couldn’t breathe. This was one of those moments. I was speechless as she stood before me. Her long black hair was swept to the side, hanging over her shoulder in waves. I could tell she wasn’t wearing makeup, because the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than they had been earlier, but the rest of her olive-toned skin was smooth. I ached to touch her, to run my fingers over her jaw and down to her exposed collarbone.