Rock 'n' Stroller - A Rockstar's Secret Baby Romance (Baby Surprises Book 4)

by Layla Valentine

  “Are you kidding?” she asked. “I’m going to be getting details out of you for the rest of your life about this.”

  A pang of sadness hit me, and I did my best to hide it.

  “Aw, babe,” Blaire said, apparently noticing. “Sorry, I know you’re still bummed about it.”

  “I’m not ‘bummed,’” I said. “Just…I don’t even know.”

  “You had a connection with the guy,” she said. “And he’s gone. I mean, if you hit it off with this guy half as hard as you said you did, I don’t blame you. Connections like that don’t come around every day.”

  “Don’t I know it,” I said.

  Blaire grabbed my drink and took a sip.

  “Ugh,” she said. “Still on the pineapple juice?”

  “Yep,” I said as she flagged down the bartender and ordered a normal drink. “Still feeling weird.”

  “I don’t mean to mommy you or anything,” she said, “but you might want to think about going to the doctor and getting that checked out. You’ve been feeling like this for a while, right?”

  “Right,” I said. “But I don’t have time to do the whole ‘doctor’ thing.”

  “Then you definitely don’t have time to do the whole ‘sick’ thing either,” she said.

  “I know, I know.”

  “Just watching out for my favorite lady,” Blaire said.

  “Appreciate it,” I said right back.

  I leaned in for another sip of my pineapple juice, but right at the moment I was about to wrap my lips around the straw, a wave of something hit me. Something intense, something I couldn’t ignore.

  Something that made me feel like I was going to puke right then and there.

  “Be right back!” I shot to Blaire as I burst out of my seat and flew across the floor of the club.

  “What’s wrong?” she yelled after me, her voice fading with each step I took.

  I hauled ass to the bathroom, which was thankfully empty. Once there, I rushed to the nearest stall, dropped to my knees, and let it all out. The three glasses of pineapple juice and whatever else happened to be in my belly came right out, and after some coughing and sputtering, I felt instantly better.

  Once I was done, I went over to the sink and leaned forward, my eyes locked onto my reflection.

  “What the hell?” I asked out loud. “Did I just puke in the club bathroom?”

  It’d happened so fast that it was almost surreal. Once I’d fixed my hair, washed out my mouth with some water, and popped a piece of gum, I started back toward the bar.

  “What happened?” asked Blaire. “You looked like pure death for a second.”

  “I got sick,” I said.

  “Are you serious? Do you need to go home?”

  “No,” I said, still dazed. “I actually feel fine now.”

  I took another sip of juice to get the last traces of the gross taste out of my mouth.

  “But I think you’re right about that doctor’s visit.”

  Chapter 20

  Kendra

  I dug my nails into the crinkly paper of the examination table, wanting to be anywhere but the tiny doctor’s office where I’d been waiting for the nurse. Finally, she entered. She was a short, squat, middle-aged woman with an open, friendly face. She must’ve really kicked butt in her bedside demeanor course in nursing school, because I felt better as soon as she stepped into the room.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Peters,” she said, a chart in her hands. “I’m Nurse Sophia. How are we feeling today?”

  “Not bad,” I said. “Which is weird in and of itself.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Is that right? How do you mean?”

  “It’s these weird symptoms,” I said. “One minute I’ll feel fine, the next I’ll feel worn-out. And the thing that made me finally set up the appointment was having this fit of nausea out of nowhere.”

  “I see,” she said, jotting what I’d said down on a notepad. “And what else?”

  “I’ve had no taste for alcohol,” I said. “I’m not really a huge drinker or anything, but it’s just been sounding like the grossest thing in the world to me recently. And I’ve been craving foods that I’ve never wanted before. Like, the other day I ordered pizza and asked them to put sauerkraut on it. Sauerkraut—can you believe that?”

  “Interesting,” the nurse said. “Could be any number of things. But since you’re sitting here and feeling fine, I’m thinking it can’t be anything too serious.”

  “Good,” I said, feeling relieved.

  “But let’s start with some questions…”

  She went into it, asking me various questions about my medical history, allergies—that sort of thing. Then she got to a question that gave me pause.

  “And are you sexually active.”

  “Um, kind of,” I said.

  “Kind of?”

  “I mean, I haven’t really had much of a sex life to speak of. There was this one guy a little while ago, but it was just a quick thing. I don’t even normally do anything like that.”

  “No judgments here,” she said. “How long ago was this? As specifically as you can remember.”

  “It was…a little over a month ago. Just under five weeks, I think.”

  She nodded, jotting this down. “Okay, and what kind of birth control are you on?”

  “The pill,” I said.

  “And are you good about taking it when you’re supposed to?”

  “For…the most part.”

  Another eyebrow raise.

  “No judgments, right,” I said. “I mean, I try. But I get so busy and forget. And it’s easy to let it slip my mind when I never date.”

  “Sure,” she said. “And now I have one more question—when was your last period?”

  “Oh,” I said, ready to speak with confidence. “It was—”

  I stopped short. I was normally on the dot with my period, but now that I was thinking about it, I realized that I was late.

  Very, very late.

  “It’s been…two months, I think.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe I haven’t noticed. I’ve just been so busy with work.”

  Then what Nurse Sophia had been hinting at dawned on me.

  “Are you saying that you think I might be—”

  I couldn’t even say the word.

  “We’re going to have to run some tests to be certain,” she said. “But it’s sounding like it might be a strong candidate for what’s going on with you.”

  “Oh, my God,” I said, sitting back.

  “What I’d like to do is run a blood test,” she said. “It’ll take a little longer than the usual ‘pee on a stick’ kind, but the results will be more certain.”

  “Okay,” I said, still feeling totally out of it.

  Nurse Sophia, apparently sensing how I was feeling, placed her hand on my knee.

  “It’s going to be okay, kiddo,” she said. “Either you’re not pregnant and you’re just dealing with some work stress, or you are and you can take it from there. You’re going to be fine.”

  I felt a little better. She flashed me a quick smile before turning around and heading out of the room.

  The next half hour was a blur. The nurse returned to take the blood sample, and after a few more tests and questions, I was back out onto the street wondering what the hell had just happened.

  Nurse Sophia had told me that it would take about a day for the results to come back. But there was no way I was going to wait that long. I started down the street, stopping at the first pharmacy I found and leaving five minutes later with a pregnancy kit in my purse.

  I rushed back to my apartment with such quick steps that if I’d have been going any faster, I’d have been all-out running. Once back, I hurried to the bathroom, my eager hands opening up the package and fishing out the test and the instructions.

  I followed the directions, and once that was taken care of, I put the test onto the bathroom sink, set a timer for twenty minutes, and began pacing around my apartment like a cr
azy woman.

  Pregnant. I couldn’t even begin to wrap my mind around the idea. I’d been so focused on work and my bands and my life in the city that having a kid wasn’t even close to being on my radar. I’d always imagined being a mom as something that might happen in the hazy future, when my love life and career were on total lock-down—not at all something that would just happen out of the blue one day.

  And if I was, in fact, pregnant, that would mean that there was only one person it could’ve happened with—Johnny freaking Maxton. Not only would my life be in total turmoil, but his would too. What if he had to throw away his rock star dreams because of me? Would he ever forgive me for such a thing?

  Or, even worse, what if he told me he didn’t to be a part of the baby’s life? What if he were to tell me to screw off, that he wanted to get laid, not deal with a baby. He certainly had the money to hire lawyers that could easily make sure I didn’t come anywhere near him.

  “Calm the eff down,” I said out loud, trying to get a hold of myself. “You don’t even know if you’re pregnant. And if you are…”

  I took another breath.

  “So what? It’ll be fine. You’ve been able to handle everything else that life’s thrown at you. What’s one more thing?”

  I knew it was crazy to be talking to myself like this, but it was actually working. Calm flowed through me.

  And I needed it because the timer went off only a few seconds later. I took one last deep breath and walked with slow, deliberate steps toward the bathroom. Once there, I picked up the test and read the result.

  Two lines.

  Pregnant.

  I couldn’t deny it for a moment longer. My whole life was about to change.

  Chapter 21

  Kendra

  I spent the next few hours alone in my apartment going through a total whirlwind of emotions. I was scared, then angry—at myself, mostly—then worried, then calm, then whatever else.

  Finally, as the evening set in, I felt…strangely good about it all. I thought about the words I’d said out loud to myself when I was waiting for the results of my test, the ones about how I’d been able to handle anything.

  At the time, they’d simply sounded like something you’d tell yourself. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how true they were. At 28, I’d carved out a nice little life for myself here in the city. Sure, my dating life left a lot to be desired, but things with Avalon were going great. I’d had plenty of challenges over the years, and I’d managed to overcome each and every last one of them.

  This one, though, was going to be the biggest challenge of them all—no doubt about that. I was going to be a mother.

  I made myself a pot of coffee and sat at my kitchen table while it brewed. As I waited, the smell of fresh coffee filling the air, a thought occurred to me—a thought about a very specific person.

  Johnny.

  He was the dad; there simply wasn’t anyone else it could’ve been. And this meant he had to know.

  It was scary as hell. I could control my own feelings about the pregnancy, but Johnny was a whole other matter. Sure, we’d hit it off like crazy, but that was just about romance and sex and all that fun stuff. I had no idea how he’d react to one of the many, many girls he’d slept with calling out of the blue and letting him know that he was going to be a freaking dad.

  But I had to tell him, no way around it. He had a right to know.

  There was a problem, however; he and I had never exchanged numbers! We’d acknowledged at the time that what happened between us was never going to last beyond the weekend, so it made sense that we hadn’t exchanged contact information. Now, though, I suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to kick myself.

  I paced the apartment, trying to figure out what I could do next. I could check Memphisto’s website to see if there was some email address I could send something off to. But I didn’t like that. Who the hell knew if that actually would get to Johnny?

  Then a thought occurred to me—Redemption Records. Johnny was signed onto one of the biggest labels in the world. There had to be some way to get in touch with him through that.

  I went to the website and began going through the various pages for the signed bands, eventually finding Memphisto. Johnny was front-and-center on the page, my heart doing a little backflip as I laid eyes on him.

  When I realized I was staring, I shook my head to focus back on the task at hand. I clicked here and there, tour dates, merch pages, and even a place where I could request to have Memphisto play a private party. That’d be one way to get to see him, if only I had a couple hundred thousand dollars lying around.

  But no contact information. Things were starting to get hopeless. I cursed myself for not bothering to get Johnny’s phone number. What the hell was I thinking?

  Then it hit me—his manager! If I could find some way to get his manager on the phone that could be a possible way to get to Johnny. But I doubt he’d put me through if he thought I was just some fangirl who wanted to harass him. I’d have to think of something.

  In the meantime, I went to the staff page for Redemption Records. There I found a long list of all of the managers on their payroll, complete with pictures. They all looked true to form—smiling guys with slicked-back hair who looked like the type who’d pat you on the back with one hand while slipping your wallet out of your pocket with the other.

  “What the hell was his name?” I asked out loud, letting my head drop back as I looked up at the ceiling. “Something with an ‘R’? Ronny, Richard…”

  I turned my attention back to the screen, my eyes locking on the picture of a man named Rick Silver.

  “There he is!” I said out loud.

  Without thinking, I grabbed my phone and dialed the number that was listed. It rang a few times before a female voice answered.

  “Redemption Records, Rick Silver’s office. How can I help you?”

  I cleared my throat and put on my best professional voice.

  “Hello, my name’s Kendra Peters with Avalon Records. I was hoping to speak to Mr. Silver about a potential contract violation with one of his clients.”

  I had no idea where to go from there, but I figured it sounded serious enough to maybe work.

  To my utter relief, it did.

  “One moment, please,” the woman said.

  I was put on hold, music from one of their groups piping into my ear.

  “This is Rick Silver,” came a voice that was at once brash and slick at the same time.

  “Hi,” I said. “Kendra Peters with Avalon Records.”

  “Avalon?” he repeated. “Never heard of you.”

  “We’re a small label based out of Seattle,” I said. “And I wanted to talk to you to see if I could get ahold of Johnny Maxton through you.”

  “What for?” he asked. “My secretary said you have some kind of contract dispute?”

  “Uhh, yeah,” I said, the words dripping out of my mouth. “I worked with Johnny back in the day, back before he was signed, and I have a contract with him that he’d probably like to take a look at. It’s nothing really, just something I need to settle with him.”

  “Well, I’m not in the business of giving out my client’s personal information over the phone. And what did you say your label was again?”

  “Avalon Records.”

  “Avalon Records,” he repeated. “A contract dispute? What kind of contract?”

  “I…don’t have it with me,” I told him. “And like I said, it’s probably something that would be better discussed with him. Just a simple matter, really.”

  My heart began to thud. I was hanging on by my fingertips here. If Rick were to hang up, I knew that would close the door on the best, and possibly only, option I had for talking to Johnny.

  “All legal matters come through me first. Then I send them to our legal team here at Redemption.”

  There was a beat of silence.

  “And how the hell do I even know if you’re telling the truth? Some record
label owner wants to meet one-on-one with one of my clients, and I’m just supposed to believe what you’re telling me? How do I know you’re not looking to poach my talent?”

  Shit. I wasn’t ready for this level of aggressiveness.

  “I’m not,” I insisted.

  “What’s this all about?” he asked. “Tell me why you’re so desperate to talk to Johnny. You’re not some psycho stalker or something wasting my time, are you? Because if you are, I’m going to let you know right now we can trace calls and make sure—”

  “I’m pregnant,” I blurted out.

  “Huh?” he said, not missing a beat. “You’re pregnant? I mean, congratulations, I guess. But what the hell does that have to do with me or Johnny?”

  “It’s his baby.”

  Now there was silence.

  Finally, after several long moments, he spoke. “Hold on.”

  I heard Rick moving around on the other end, likely to get someplace more private.

  “You’re pregnant?” he finally said. “With Johnny’s kid?”

  “With Johnny’s kid.”

  It felt so strange to say. Strange, but good.

  “How do you know?” he said.

  “Because I do,” I said. “I took a pregnancy test, and I’ll have more test results back from my doctor before too long. If you want proof, I’ve got it.”

  “Fucking hell,” he muttered. “Johnny, you stupid asshole—”

  “So,” I said, cutting him off. “Can I talk to him now?”

  More silence.

  “Not yet,” he said. “I want to talk with you first.”

  “Why? Why can’t I just tell him myself?”

  “Because you didn’t get knocked up by just anyone,” he said. “You got knocked up by one of the fastest rising rock stars on the planet. This needs to be handled very, very delicately. Lots of people’s jobs, lots of money in the balance here.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he kept on talking.

  “Where are you right now?” he asked.

  “I’m in Seattle,” I said.

  “Seattle…” he repeated. “You know The Grey Fox?”