Serenading Heartbreak

by Ella Fields

  Mom and Dad were waiting for me after class, and I hustled outside the lecture hall, my hands wrapped around my almost six-month bump as I tried to contain my excitement.

  A few double glances and whispers of speculation had circulated—were still circulating—as people caught sight of my stomach, but nothing could steal this feeling from me. Not today.

  It was the small things, I’d come to realize in the weeks that’d dragged by, that would help me continue when all I wanted was to stay curled beneath my duvet and shut the world out.

  Though I suppose finding out the gender of my baby was no small thing at all.

  “You’re still so sure it’s a boy,” Mom said next to me in the waiting room, encouraging me to drink more water.

  My eyes grazed the blue gray walls, the crisp white furniture, and the receptionist desk, seeking distraction. “My bladder is about to burst.”

  “Keep drinking, or we might not get a clear picture.” Mom licked her finger, turning the page of a magazine.

  “It’s a boy. This will just confirm it.”

  “Have you thought of any names?” Dad crossed his ankles, stretching his arms over his head.

  To say he was impressed when Mom called him from my place after she’d arrived to stay with me would be a lie. But over the two weeks she was there, he gradually came around. Still, the rigidness to his jaw when his eyes met my stomach conveyed exactly how he was feeling about Everett’s disappearance.

  He was mad as hell, but knowing it wouldn’t make me feel any better, he was trying not to let it show.

  “No,” I said, ignoring the fact that not once had Everett and I even talked about names.

  “Am I late?” Hendrix burst through the door, causing a few patrons in the room to lift their gaze.

  He saw us and visibly relaxed, the door closing as he came to sit beside Dad. “Sorry.” He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling. “I sped the whole way here.”

  Mom reached over to smack him with the magazine. “Idiot.”

  “What? I wasn’t about to miss it.”

  I smiled at him, my chest warming when he winked.

  We’d had dinner together last month, where he’d sworn he had no idea Everett was leaving or where he’d gone. The taut pull of his mouth and shoulders and the dull sheen to his eyes accompanied regret-laced words over not being able to get in touch with him. To try to make this right for me.

  I’d told him that wasn’t his responsibility, and that making the best album he could with what they had was.

  Since then, even though he’d been swamped at the studio, he’d made a point to check in each week. Even if it was just to have some snacks delivered to my place with a card that never failed to make me laugh.

  “Ms. Sandrine?” A brunette with a kind smile appeared in the waiting room.

  We all rose, and Mom took my hand, her gaze searching as I expelled a loud breath. “You okay?”

  Okay was the last thing I felt. But with my family surrounding me, something told me I was going to be, so I nodded.

  “Let’s find out what you got in there,” Hendrix said, his arm looping around my shoulders as we headed down the hall.

  “Will your landlord let us paint the room blue? You really should just move back home.” Mom dunked a fry into her ketchup. “Think of how gorgeous Hendrix’s room would look as a nursery again.” A wistful smile played on her lips.

  Dad grinned. “What a time warp that’d be.”

  “Don’t worry about how I’d feel or anything.” Hendrix mock pouted.

  I bumped him. “It’s okay. I’m staying here. You know, where I have a job, school, and Adela. It’ll work out.”

  “There are only three rooms, though. Adela won’t mind you using the other as a nursery?” Mom asked.

  I laughed. “She’s already dumping boxes of diapers in there every time she gets paid.”

  Something moved across Hendrix’s face, but he was quick to wipe it away. “Who’s getting the crib?”

  “I will,” I said. “They’re expensive. I’m not expecting anyone to foot the bill.”

  “No.” Dad’s voice was firm. “You’ll take the help we give you. This is our first grandchild, not charity.”

  I swallowed thickly, nodding at him and drinking my water.

  Mom patted my hair. “You need to let us spoil him, or I’ll be annoyed. Annoyed and spoiling him anyway.”

  I set my water down, then fanned my face. “Stop, hormones. God.”

  Everyone returned to their food, and Adela just about burst my eardrum when I answered her call and told her I was having a boy. “Jesus.”

  “Sorry, but oh my God.” She panted, sounding as if she was running. “This is so perfect. Okay, gotta go. Things to do.”

  “Like what?” I asked cautiously.

  “Oh, you know. Just maxing out my credit card in Target.”

  I rolled my eyes, then closed them over the threat of gratitude. “Love you.”

  “Love you more.” She hung up, and I read a text from Aiden that’d come through twenty minutes earlier.

  Prince: What’s the verdict, Petal??

  Me: boy. :)

  Bubbles danced as he tapped out a response, then disappeared. It happened four times before he finally responded.

  Prince: I’m fucking thrilled for you.

  “You could hear her scream from the next state,” Hendrix drawled, fingers tapping over his phone. “The guys say congrats.”

  Not sure what to make of Aiden’s text, I placed my phone back inside my purse. Then I mentally slapped myself. It wasn’t his baby, and I was lucky he still wanted anything to do with me. “She’s already on her way to the mall. And tell them I said thanks.”

  Mom and Dad laughed, and after a few beats, I let myself laugh too.

  My chest throbbed, and I sighed out a stuttering exhale.

  Hendrix watched me, slipping his phone away. I wrangled my face into something passable, then directed my gaze to the rain-soaked street outside the café.

  “Progress with the album?” Mom asked.

  “Good, it’s, um… well, it took a bit to wade through, but it’s working out now.”

  “Sounding good, I’ll bet.”

  Hendrix drummed on the tabletop. “It’s coming together, yeah.”

  Hearing the unease in his voice, I turned to study his blank features. “What happened?”

  Dad cleared his throat. “They’ve changed course.”

  Slowly, I blinked, my attention still fixed on Hendrix as he struggled to look at me. “What do you mean?” I hadn’t meant for it to sound accusatory, but nonetheless, it happened.

  Hendrix’s shoulders drooped. “We didn’t have enough to finish without him. And Jack said—” A look at Mom had Hendrix shutting up.

  “Go on,” I urged. “Jack said what?”

  Mom made a whining sound.

  My heart and voice hardened. “Just tell me.”

  Hendrix didn’t balk at my demand. He merely slouched back in his seat, defeated. “Jack said Everett has made some new agreement with him. He’s not on the album. Yes, his lyrics are, but he wanted off.” He spread his hands. “So instead of making us repay the advances, Jack was willing to give me a shot as lead vocalist. We should be able to wrap it by Thanksgiving.”

  A screech sounded as I pushed my chair back, but I didn’t stand, only concentrated on trying to breathe. “He spoke to Jack.” Of course, he did, a sinister voice said. Music first, Stevie last. “Jack knows where he is?”

  “If he does, he’s not talking. All we know is that Everett paid some of his advance back, and he’s signed over the music to us.” I watched Hendrix’s booted feet shift over the cracked tiled floor. “He basically sold his songs to us.”

  I couldn’t fucking breathe. “And he just let Jack do that? That’s his music, Hendrix. He wrote most of that album.” God knows why I was still defending him, why I cared when just the thought of him made me want to slam my head against the table. “It’
s his.”

  Hendrix raised his hands. “Hey, cool it. This was Everett’s decision, and I imagine he’ll get paid future royalties for the music, so don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried. I…” I stopped, my hands sinking into my hair and tugging. “Ugh.” Jack had spoken to him. He’d gotten a phone call.

  I was carrying his baby, and all I’d gotten was a useless four-leaf clover.

  Mom was in front of me, helping me up. “Let’s get you home.”

  I let her, and even though I didn’t need it, I was grateful for the touch. The support. I needed something to keep me tethered to the here and now, so as to not lose my damn mind in the middle of the day, in the middle of a café, surrounded by the lunch crowd.

  My purple maxi dress fluttered around my legs, and I placed a hand over my stomach as Dad grabbed my purse.

  And then I felt it. Through the barrage of feelings assaulting me all at once, I felt it. “It wasn’t gas,” I said aloud.

  Hendrix coughed out a laugh. “What?”

  I’d called Mom earlier that week, unsure whether the baby was moving or not. A Google search had said it could be gas while some forums disputed it was, in fact, the baby moving.

  Mom’s eyes were bright with unfettered delight crawling over her face as her hands came to my stomach, and she felt it too.

  They all crowded me, and everything melted away. Hands pressed against the tiny flitting movement on the left side of my stomach.

  “Holy shit,” Hendrix said.

  Tears of joy trailed down my face, joining the smile that dug deep into my cheeks.

  Holy shit was right.

  “This seems kind of big.” I folded the romper with elephants printed on it.

  Adela plucked the tags off some blankets. “Babies don’t stay tiny for very long.”

  Sadness swamped me, the little nudges in my belly trying to chase it away.

  “You’ve been doing better,” she said, taking a seat beside me on the floor of our spare room. Which would soon house more than a chest of drawers, diapers, and piles of baby clothes. “What’s up?”

  “Just…” How much was he going to miss? I was sad, not for myself, but for him. Our baby.

  Adela made a sound, understanding. “That’s not your burden to bear. You didn’t tell him to leave; that was all on him.”

  “Where do you think he is?” I’d pondered that, my imagination trying to place him in various places. But knowing what he’d been like every other time he’d left me behind, I shut the curious quest down.

  “Busking his way through the South? Who knows.” She sighed. “Sometimes…”

  When she trailed off, biting her lip, I frowned. “Sometimes what?”

  Her hands smoothed over the blue and green floral blanket on her lap. “I sometimes wonder about you and Everett; were you ever truly meant to be?” My back stiffened, but she continued with a nostalgic smile. “But then I remember the way he looked at you, especially since he moved here, like you were the very air he needed to breathe, and he didn’t have enough. Then I’ll wonder how he could hurt you. If he looked at you like that, how he could continue to put his own needs first?”

  The desire to defend him had faded. “I know.”

  “Either way”—she moved her hand to my stomach, smiling down at it—“this baby was born from love. It will know only love. And that’s enough. It’s always enough.”

  “Don’t make me cry, or I’ll nipple cripple you.”

  She laughed, then nodded, her eyes wet as she patted my cheek. “You’re going to be just fine, Mama. You’ll see.”

  Three sharp knocks echoed from the door, and I made to get up, but naturally, in my state, Adela beat me to it.

  A minute later, Aiden appeared in the doorway, carrying two milkshakes. Adela reached around him, snatching one and grinning, then bounded out of sight.

  Aiden blinked, then shook his head. It tilted when he studied me, his mouth curving.

  He’d been over a few times since my scan last month, and I hated seeing him. Almost as much as I loved having him near me. Every lingering look and fleeting smile tore at my insides. I could hardly stand to see him, yet I couldn’t seem to deprive myself of it either.

  I soaked in his tight fitted jeans and T-shirt with his team’s logo in the corner.

  Sweeping a hand into his hair, he stepped deeper into the room. “You’re glowing.”

  The word glow spiked thorns, but I took the compliment with a smile, my attention focused on folding the rest of the washed clothes in front of me. “So are you. Lots of time in the sun?”

  He huffed, lowering to the ground beside me and leaning back against the wall. The scent of his cologne seemed more potent. It enveloped me like a cloud, making me dizzy. “The team’s finished now.”

  “I saw. Sorry about the loss.” They’d made it to the semifinals, which he’d flown back for. I’d watched it on TV last week.

  Aiden bent his knees, clasping his hands around them. “We had a good run. Besides…” Humor roughened his voice. “I think I spent most of the game, hell, any game, pinching myself, so it definitely could’ve been better.”

  “Pinching yourself?”

  His head rolled to face me. “It still trips me out. That I actually get to play with and against some of the best players in the world.”

  Lost in the swirling dark depths of his eyes, the curl and dip of his lashes, and the dream-like quality to his voice, I was held immobile. I shook my head, refocusing on the clothes. “You deserve to be there, and you know it.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m just lucky they’re giving me another shot.” He fell quiet, and I felt his warm gaze as I sorted the washed from the unwashed, then started ripping off more tags. “I’ve missed you.”

  I hesitated, wanting to say I’d missed him too, wanting to say so many things, but my tongue grew two sizes bigger, and then his phone rang.

  He pulled it from his pocket. “Hey, Dad.”

  He sipped from the milkshake that’d been sitting beside him, then handed it to me as he smiled at something his dad said.

  I took it, almost moaning. Vanilla heaven rolled over my tongue, sliding down my throat.

  I drank while he talked, and was about to get up when he said, “She’s good. I’m at her place now.” His tone turned irritated. “Fine.”

  A rich, gruff voice sounded. “Stevie?”

  My eyes widened, and I looked from Aiden’s smirk to the voice in his hand. “Uh, hi, Mr. Prince.”

  “Cooper. Aiden tells me you’re having a baby boy. Just putting it out there, Cooper’s a fantastic name.”

  I laughed. “I’ll take note of that, thanks.”

  “Welcome. So I’ll be in town next Friday, and I’m taking you both out to dinner at that new restaurant. One of my clients owns it.”

  My heart thundered as I threw a helpless glance at Aiden. His grin said there’d be no saving me from this. “Sure. You do remember we’re not actually together anymore, right?”

  “Like I give a shit. Meet me at seven. I need to go; some asshole just dumped bad news on my desk.”

  The line disconnected, and Aiden put his phone away as he stood. “Your dad seems, um…”

  “Forceful? Entitled? I know.” He held his hand out.

  I ignored it. “Aiden, I can’t do this.”

  He lowered to the floor, crouching in front of me and searching my eyes. “It’s just dinner. My dad’s been wanting to meet you for the better part of a year now. Appease him, or I’ll probably never hear the end of it.” He pouted. “Please. For me?”

  I grumbled. “Those puppy dog eyes should be illegal.”

  “Quit busting my balls. Let him spoil you with all the fancy food you could dream of.”

  He offered his hand again, and after a second, I let him haul me up off the floor. “Well, damn, Petal.” His throat bounced as he gazed down at my stomach.

  I flattened my hand over it, my white lace summer dress clinging to the soccer ball-sized bu
lge. “Gets bigger every time I wake up.”

  “I’ll say.”

  I slapped him, and he snickered, bringing my hand to his lips.

  As his smooth mouth encountered my skin, we both paused. The skin on my arms prickled, and my stomach dipped.

  He released me, clearing his throat. “Anyway, I need to head home and unpack. Only just got in this morning.”

  I nodded, my hands bunching at my sides as he strode from the room, and I heard his booted steps fade down the hall.

  “Now raise them to the sky. That’s it. Breathe in…. and release.”

  I did my best to follow the instructor’s guidance but found myself three seconds behind every time.

  “Try yoga, they said. It’s relaxing, they said,” I whispered beneath my breath.

  Liza must have had supersonic hearing. “What was that?”

  “She was just saying she wishes she didn’t eat those onion rings last night.” Adela made a face, her hands and arms following every move like she was a born yoga Jedi.

  I scowled at her, then smiled at Liza as if to say, what can you do?

  “You shouldn’t be eating onion rings while you’re pregnant. Deep fried food is not healthy for the baby.”

  “Oh, boy,” I sighed out between a small crack in my lips.

  Adela snorted.

  Rolling up our mats, we tried to contain our laughter. “I don’t even like onion rings.”

  “Shut up. It was the first thing I could think of.”

  “Onion rings?” She helped me up.

  “I’ve wanted some all week. Damn diet.”

  I half-rolled my eyes. “As if you need to diet.”

  We patted our faces with towels, then headed for the door. “I do with your pregnant ass bringing home all these snacks.”

  “I never said you had to eat them, especially when I bought them for myself.”

  “I’m not eating them.” I shot her a look, and she waved a hand. “Well, I haven’t this week.”

  We stopped at a row of chairs outside, stuffing our things away and grabbing our keys. When I looked up, sipping from my water bottle, a row of pamphlets caught my eye.