He clears his throat. “Some journalist named Calista Jones is writing a tell-all about you. Somehow she got a copy of Sam’s diaries and according to the word on the street, a few of your ‘friends’ added some colorful commentary.”
“What?” my voice breaks and my heart beat increases. This is the last thing that I need, and definitely the last thing that Josie needs. We’re in a good place and with the baby coming; the added drama will just be too much stress for her.
Harrison hands me his phone and I read through an excerpt of this novel. Everything that I don’t want to remember about my past is about to come out and there won’t be anything I can do about it. Sure, I can take to social media and ask people not to buy it, but I know that they will, even though they’ll tell me they won’t. It’s in our nature to know all the juicy gossip of Hollywood.
“Well, this is fucking great.” I mutter as I read what Harrison has shown me. She talks about the tattoo across my chest and the day Josie called the office and left me a message. But it’s the words about the time that Sam and I hooked up in my tour bus that really jars me. The date is written there and for the first time, I recognize it as our anniversary... mine and Josie’s. Dead doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel inside right now.
The guys don’t have anything to say. I don’t blame them. I brought Sam into our lives, and aside from JD, she did everything she could to ruin us and we’re pretty sure she set Alicia up to drug Harrison.
“We should get to work,” I say without any conviction whatsoever. My mind should be on the joyous news I want to share, but thoughts of my past plague me. I’ll have to tell Josie about this book and pray that she doesn’t want to read it. Nothing good can come from a book written by a journalist… one that I don’t ever remember meeting.
“What are we working on?” JD asks as I shake my head.
“I have no idea,” I say completely lost for yet another time in my life. I’m starting to think that my career is over because I’ll be spending the rest of my days trying to make up for everything I did in the past to my wife. She’s not going to understand. Hell, I don’t even understand.
I’m fighting every urge I have to go baby shopping. Instead, I head home after stopping at the grocery store. Liam and I want to buy things for the baby together. He wants to be there when we pick out a crib, the bedding and, of course, he says that the baby needs rock star approved clothing. I think if he had his way, the baby would have his own motorcycle – and probably tattoos – right from birth.
It’s hard to explain how I feel about adopting. I’m happy, elated and over the moon that in a few short weeks I’ll be holding a baby boy in my arms who I get to call mine, but I’m missing the pregnancy part. I miss rubbing my hand over my stomach and feeling the fluttering and the kicking. I want Liam to touch my stomach and feel his child respond to him. Or have Noah rea
d a story so the baby knows his voice when he gets here. We’re missing these early bonding moments, but I still wouldn’t trade what we have going on right now. The anxiety of being a new mother is there, even if I’ve done this before.
When I pull in I see a football flying through the air accompanied by the sound of voices. Liam is working with Noah and is teaching him everything he knows. As of late, there have been comparisons between the two of them. A reporter stopped us at the mall, asking us for an interview. He’s twelve, almost thirteen, and not even in high school yet and they’re matching him stat for stat with this dad. I could see it in Noah’s eyes, the resentment is building. He was on his way to being a football star long before Liam showed up and I think it upsets Noah that people don’t remember that. He’s not Liam, and he’s not trying to be.
I set the groceries on the counter and head out back to see my boys. I’m sorry... men. Noah has informed me that he’ll no longer be my little boy when he becomes a teenager so I need to make sure he’s referred to properly. My response was to pull him into a hug. That lasted for about two seconds before he squirmed his way out of my arms. He’s growing fast, too fast for my liking, but it was bound to happen.
“Looking good,” I say just as Noah releases a pass back to Liam. He catches it with such ease, much like he did when he and Mason would throw the ball around in Mason’s backyard. When I wanted to make-out and do stupid spontaneous teenage things, Liam wanted to work on his arm. It wasn’t until senior year that he relaxed and now I know why. He was planning to quit football, even if he didn’t know it at the time.
He changed our senior year. I can see that now. Back then I was blinded by love, college and freedom. I thought that Liam, and I were invincible and nothing could bring us down or break us. Turns out, I was the one to break us because I couldn’t see past the quarterback I fell in love with. I couldn’t see the hurt and pain he was living with day in and day out. I only provided more stress by trying to do everything I could to keep my dreams alive. I was all set to just be his wife, but he gave me the opportunity to be someone better, someone extraordinary. He gave me the opportunity to grow up and find the me I needed to be without him guiding our path. It just sucks how it all happened.
“How was school, Noah?”
“Fine.”
“Did you do your homework?”
“Yep.”
He continues to throw the football back and forth with Liam, never taking his gaze off his dad. This is how our conversations have gone lately - I ask a question and get a one word answer in return. Sometimes I understand when he replies with “not fair” after some sort of punishment has been handed down. Lately, it’s been because he hasn’t turned in his homework. He earns great grades and does his homework, but forgets to hand it in. The only way Liam and I thought we could get the point across was to remove all his electronic devices from his room. It hasn’t really helped, but his forgetfulness is getting better. Funny how he never forgets anything when it comes to sports.
“Did you stop at the store?”
“I did,” I answer Liam. “I picked up a variety – chicken, steak and hot dogs.”
Liam tosses the ball back to Noah and tells him he has to start cooking dinner. He comes over to me, rests his hands on the chair that I’m sitting in and kisses me. Noah makes gagging sounds in the background causing both of us to smile. When he starts to pull away, I clutch his t-shirt preventing him from leaving me. We’re not into heavy displays of affection in front of Noah, but he knows that his parents love each other. Liam always has his hand on my back or on my hip or our fingers are locked together.
“Have you told him?” I whisper only for Liam to shake his head.
“I was waiting for you.”
He kisses me again before he helps me stand. It’s these small moments that make me wish I were pregnant because of how Liam is around me. Although, he’d likely want to put me in a bubble to prevent any injuries or potential dangers that could come my way.
Noah hasn’t exactly been very welcoming of the fact that another human will be living with us. He wanted a dog, but Liam and I wanted a baby. We’re the parents; we won the battle, but have paid dearly for it with pre-teen attitude.
Liam asks Noah to come into the house with us for a few minutes. The request is met with some type of boy grunt, followed by the kicking of grass. If Bianca and I were close I’d ask her if Liam was like this. Maybe Mason was and I can ask Mr. Powell how he dealt with the constant sighing, one-word answers and eye rolling. I must be crazy to want to do this again. Right now I think crazy is a good thing.
As soon as the three of us sit down at the table I’m taken back to the time when Liam came over for dinner and we told Noah that Liam’s his dad. Noah knew, of course, after he heard his teachers talking about Liam during a field trip to the sports museum. Mason and Liam had made such a name for themselves that the town wanted to remind everyone just how amazing they were.
Liam takes my hand in his and looks at our son who is looking anywhere but at us. I hate that he’s so disinterested, but I get it. Liam takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand.