Reckless

Epilogue

Denny spared no expense when it came to giving Abby her dream wedding. Everything was picture-perfect, straight out of a bridal magazine. It was breathtaking. The ceremony took place at the impressive Fairmont Olympic hotel in downtown Seattle. With twenty-foot ceilings, crystal chandeliers, arched floor-to-ceiling windows, white brocade linens, table skirts, and china place settings, the place was top-notch.
Kellan and I were both in the wedding party, him as a groomsman, me as a bridesmaid. Standing next to the altar wrapped in pink flowers and twinkling lights brought tears to my eyes. Of course, that could have been the pregnancy hormones kicking in. I didn't think so, though. It was watching Denny marry his sweetheart. It was the look on his face when he said, "I do." It was seeing Kellan just over Denny's shoulder, beaming at his friend. It was the trace amount of moisture in my husband's eyes. It was remembering my vows from my own simple ceremony.
After the lengthy nuptials, long lines formed to congratulate the happy couple. Dressed in an intricately embroidered, long-sleeved, gleaming white wedding gown, I'd never seen Abby look more radiant. And I'd never seen Denny more joyful as he proudly stood by her side. When it was finally my turn to hug him, I could barely speak through my emotions. I think I told him I was happy for him as I squeezed him tight. Wiping a tear from my cheek, he told me, "I'm so glad you're here. I love you, mate."
That did me in, and chuckling as I started falling apart, Kellan escorted me away so I could sit down, maybe get some water in me or something. God, if I was this emotional now, I'd never make it through the next seven months.
"Keep it together, you," Kellan murmured as he rubbed my back. This wedding was a lot fancier than ours had been, and all of the groomsmen were in full-on tuxedos. Kellan looked jaw-droppingly good. I'd spotted more than a few guests in the audience who had been watching him during the whole ceremony, ignoring the bride and groom.
Pulling out my chair, Kellan helped me sit down. He'd been doing that ever since the Grammys, like he thought I was already feeble. I let him, though. He was still reeling from my surprise announcement. I was too, but I'd had just a tiny bit longer to get used to the idea.
Each table setting had silver name tag holders with cards written in elegant calligraphy. Seeing my new name, Mrs. Kiera Kyle, spelled out made me tear up again. Anna and Griffin sat to the left of us at the table, Evan and Jenny to our right, and Matt and Rachel completed the circle by sitting across from us. The rest of the tables seemed to be filled with friends and colleagues of Denny and Abby's.
After a five-star meal, toasts, and the bride and groom slicing the wedding cake, the D-Bags performed. It had been a really long time since I'd seen the boys perform at a venue this size. It was like being back at Pete's. The feeling was more intimate than a concert, the sound crisp and clear; it was incredible. Kellan played with the crowd, riling them up and getting them to dance. By the end of the night, no one was sitting.
As a gift to Denny and a surprise to Abby, and also, I think, because Kellan didn't like her song choices, he wrote them a song for their first dance. It was an amazing piece about finding someone who opened you up, about falling in love with them more and more every day, about feeling breathless when they were gone and out of breath when they were near. Like Kellan, the song was scintillating, sexy, and also exceedingly heartfelt and romantic. Even though he'd written it for Denny and Abby, I knew the inspiration for it had come from us. It made me cry again.
The newlyweds headed off at the tail end of the evening, disappearing to their suite. They were catching a flight early in the morning. They were going back home to Australia to start their honeymoon and to have a second wedding ceremony for their friends and family there. I thought Denny was crazy for doing this soiree twice, but it was what Abby wanted, so he was more than happy to do it.
Kellan and I would also be heading over to Australia, but not for a few more months. The tour was kicking off in Vegas first, yet another place I'd always wanted to visit. Denny had managed to score Kellan and me our own bus for this tour. Our very own private bus! I could be as loud as I wanted, and no one but Kellan would hear me. Well, Kellan and the bus driver, who I often forgot about-and our bodyguard. After what had happened in New York, Kellan and I agreed to hire protection for the times we were out in public. It was still an odd concept for me. But the truth was that Kellan and I attracted attention when we went out, and sometimes that attention was a little too friendly. We didn't want to take any chances now that I was pregnant.
So, while we wouldn't be quite as alone as I'd originally thought, we had enough privacy that I was giddy and couldn't wait for the tour to start.
The first show that the D-Bags headlined was sold out. So was the next. And the next. Whatever city we rolled into, they created a stir. A frenzy of D-Baggery. But it was all positive, and it was all honest this time-no more duplicitous gossip. The tour was spending three months in the U.S. and Canada and one month overseas. That was a stipulation that Kellan had insisted on. He didn't want to be on the road for more than a few months out of the year-especially once the baby was born. After that happened, if I couldn't be with him for some reason, then the touring time might be cut back even more. Kellan just didn't want to miss anything, and I didn't blame him.
As the tour progressed, so did my stomach. It was astounding how I would seemingly double in size overnight. I went from flat stomach to moderate bump to definite bulge to cantaloupe-sized to looking like I swallowed a watermelon-just like that! Kellan loved being able to see the progression. He would stare at my belly sometimes when we were in bed together, just watching my skin, like he was waiting for it to expand before his eyes.
After a few months of him unabashedly staring at my bare stomach, I told him one evening, "A watched pot never boils, you know."
Pulling his eyes to my face, he murmured, "I know. I'm just imagining how big the baby is. I'm trying to visualize it."
I smiled at his answer as I stroked his cheek. "I do that too."
Grinning, Kellan carefully laid his head against the bulge of our child. At five months along, there was a decent amount of room for his head to rest. He stared up at me while I resumed stroking his smooth skin. "What are you doing?" I finally asked him.
His content expression grew dreamlike. "Listening to her. Or him." We'd decided not to find out the sex. We wanted to be surprised. And besides, like what happened with Anna, sometimes the technicians made mistakes.
Laughing, I told him, "No, you're listening to the chicken parmesan that I had for dinner." Looking toward the door to our private room on the bus, I murmured, "I wonder if there's any of that left."
Whispering "Shhh . . . I'm listening," Kellan resumed his intense scrutiny of my digestive system.
Then he started to lightly hum, like he was singing along to my internal noises. I felt a rolling sensation in my stomach as the baby moved. Kellan's eyes widened, and he looked up at me. I laughed at the look on his face. "Keep humming," I told him.
He did, and the baby moved again, then kicked. Kellan smiled as I sighed and said, "The baby likes Daddy's voice."
Lifting his head, Kellan crooked a smile. "Just like his mom. Or her mom."
For a minute, I debated what I wanted more, him or the chicken in the fridge. I ended up choosing what I always chose. Pulling Kellan to my lips, I reveled in the one perk of pregnancy that we were both enjoying-a ramped-up sex drive.
When I moved into my seventh month, the D-Bags went international. Kellan was worried at first about me continuing to be on the tour. He didn't want to run the risk of me giving birth backstage; he wanted me to be as safe as possible. I told him it was fine, we would be home long before I was due. Kellan didn't really want to be away from me then anyway, so my words easily convinced him. Plus, I told him we could finally become members of the Mile High club during the super-long flight to Australia. Since Kellan had never had sex on a plane before, he was intrigued, to say the least. Considering how far along I was, joining the club was a challenge. It took a lot of finagling, skill, and a hand clamped over my mouth. Airplane-bathroom sex made tour bus-cubby sex seem spacious in comparison, but we managed to pull it off. A giggling air stewardess even gave us wings afterwards. Kellan wore his pinned to his shirt the entire time we were Down Under.
So, while I was plump and full of life, I roamed a rock concert with a rock star. The band was playing in Perth first, then heading over to Sydney and Brisbane. The backstage area was full of contest winners, diehard groupies, radio personalities, the crew, and members of the bands. While security was present and watchful, Kellan insisted that the fans weren't confined to a meet-and-greet room and were allowed to roam and mingle with the rock stars. Clumps of them were even allowed to stay during the concert, something Sienna had never allowed. But Kellan still wanted some level of intimacy with his fans. That made writing more of a challenge for me, since just as many of his fans wanted to talk with Mrs. Kyle too. But laptop in hand, I found a spot to listen to him perform and work on my writing.
Since publishing my first book, I had really started focusing on my second book. Maybe it was the countless hours that Kellan had read Pride and Prejudice to me, but the storylines that filled my mind were all Jane Austen-style historical romances. I found that time period fascinating and engrossing, and now that my autobiographical story was purged from my mind, I loved the idea of doing something different and shifting away from contemporary novels.
Periodically while writing, I watched my man on stage. He was having such a good time on this tour. He loved hanging out with Holeshot and Avoiding Redemption. The three bands meshed well, personality-wise and musically. In fact, when the tour was over, Justin and Kellan were going to record a collaboration, a song they'd both been working on during quiet times. I'd heard the guys practicing the song together, and it gave me chills. I couldn't wait for the fans to hear it.
Kellan and the guys were planning on recording the album in Seattle this time, keeping it close to home, since I would be so much closer to delivering by then. Nick was fine with it, though. Truthfully, Nick was fine with a lot of stuff recently. After the scandal with Sienna, he'd been scared straight by his father. That man did not want to lose his two largest acts because of the manipulative way his son had been running things.
True to her word, Sienna kept her distance from us. She'd congratulated the boys for their Grammy win at an after party, but that was about all we'd heard from her. Her album had plummeted after her soulful, honest public apology, but she was slowly starting to bounce back. And I had no doubt in my mind that she would. If anything, the woman was tenacious.
By the time the tour was over, I was ready to go home. I was tired and very, very pregnant. I had a newfound respect for Anna for staying on the tour right up until the very end of her pregnancy. It was fun on the road, but it was a draining lifestyle. I was eager to see my sister again too. So was Griffin. Anna had decided not to join the boys on this tour. Gibson was getting into a stage where she needed more attention and guidance-absolutely everything went into that girl's mouth-so Anna had stayed home with her. I was very proud of my sister for putting the baby's needs first. That was leaps and bounds from the Anna I'd grown up with. She'd been worried about it, but she was a great mom. I hoped I'd be just as great.
When I hit my ninth month of pregnancy, I was done with it. I was huge. I was exhausted. My feet were swollen. My back ached. I could not find a comfortable sleeping position to save my life. And my amped-up sex drive had sizzled away to nothing. I wanted this child out of my body.
Kellan did everything he could to appease me. He drove a half an hour away just to get me one specific kind of ice cream. He gave me back massages every night. He even tried to give me a pedicure, which made me laugh so hard that my feet were shaking and the bright red nail polish ended up smeared all over my toes and his hands. It was sweet, though.
Just when I accepted the fact that I was going to be pregnant forever, I started having contractions. I immediately wrote down when they happened and how long they lasted. Kellan noticed me scribbling in one of his lyric journals and rested his head on my shoulder. "Whatcha doin'?"
Staring at a stop watch, I counted the seconds as I breathed through the pain. "I'm logging my contractions."
"You're what?" Kellan turned me to face him; his eyes were wide and panicked. "Is it time? Should I take you to the hospital now? I'll start the car. And I'll get your bag. Shoot, I need to put the car seat in."
He took off before I could answer a single one of his questions. "Kellan! It's . . . still early." My contractions were mild and still really far apart. Even I knew we had plenty of time.
He was a flurry of activity, though, so I didn't bother explaining that to him. I simply sat on the couch and waited to log my next contraction. Kellan dashed around the house grabbing things he thought we needed and muttering to himself about things he was sure he was forgetting. "Kiera, will we need diapers? I'm grabbing diapers. We should bring diapers."
Over my shoulder I yelled out, "Kellan! I'm sure the hospital will have some." He didn't respond to me, and I was sure the trunk of the Chevelle was going to be loaded with enough diapers to cover the bottoms of half the children in Seattle.
I glanced over at my mom, calmly sitting beside me. Not wanting to miss another grandbaby's birth, she had flown to Seattle pre-due date. Dad was going to join her once the baby was here. "He's a wreck," I said.
Laughing, my mom patted my knee. "They all are the first time."
Even though I was nowhere near giving birth, twenty minutes later I was stuffed into the Chevelle and Kellan raced me to the nearest hospital. Glancing at his speedometer, I firmly told him, "Slow down. We have plenty of time."
Kellan flicked me nervous glances. "Are you sure? How do you know? Maybe you're just having a really mild labor. Maybe this is as bad as it will get for you."
Amused, my mother started chuckling in the backseat. I did not find that comforting.
Hours later, I could have killed my husband, I could have killed my mother, and I could have killed the manufacturer of the mislabeled birth control pills. I was going to die, I was positive. I'd never felt something so painful in all my life. But then, some angelic nurse in cloud-covered scrubs gave me drugs . . . and things were much, much better.
It was still horribly uncomfortable, and hard. I'd never really thought about how difficult the act of giving birth was. You would think, since it happens all the time, it would be a much more seamless process. I mean, you don't see cats and dogs screaming, grunting, and writhing in pain. I've watched videos of whales giving birth before, and I swear those creatures didn't even notice they were delivering. And let me tell you, even partially numb from the waist down, I noticed.
Holding my hand, Kellan helped me as best he could. I could tell he felt completely useless and wished he could do more. He'd probably offer to give birth for me if he could. "You're doing great, sweetheart, almost there."
The doctor told me one more push should do it, and I nearly cried. I just wanted to be done. I hated this. I would rather be hit by another truck than ever do this again. Mom squeezed my other hand. "You can do this," she told me.
I knew I could too, and I gave it my all. The relief was nearly instant, and I knew I was done even before I heard the baby start to cry. Tears rolling down his cheeks, Kellan kissed my sweaty head. "You're amazing," he whispered.
Closing my eyes, I managed a small, thankful smile.
The nurse's perky voice stirred me from my stupor. "Congratulations! It's a boy!"
I heard my mom start to cry as I flashed open my eyes and stared up at Kellan. A boy? We'd had a boy. Kellan's gaze was fixed on the small bundle in the nurse's arms. His expression was a combination of awe and joy. "I have a son?" A shimmering tear fell off his cheek and landed on my shoulder.
No, I was wrong, I would do this a thousand more times to see that look on his face. Well, at least two or three more times.
The nurse nodded as she came toward me with my son. I was dying to see him, hold him, but I minutely shook my head at her and flicked a glance at Kellan. Understanding, she handed the baby to him. Kellan had been through so much crap in his life, he deserved to be the first one to hold his child.
Making a sound that was both a laugh and a sob, Kellan stared into his son's eyes. "Hey, little man," he whispered. "I'm your dad, and I love you . . . so much." Voice quavering, he added, "I'm so glad you're here."
I was sobbing long before Kellan handed him to me.
Several months later, I was wading through a sea of pink and white balloons. They were all over my house. And I mean all over my house. Clumps of them were attached to every lamp, vase, banister, doorknob, cabinet handle, and chair back. The ceiling was littered with them. So was the floor. People in the living room were having a blast, kicking them back and forth. Hopefully nobody took a swipe while Gibson was near. My fifteen-month-old niece was in hog heaven, trying to collect as many squishy balloons in her arms as she could carry. Anna was watching her like a hawk, making sure none of the balloons popped and scared her, or popped and became rubbery treats. That little girl still had oral-fixation issues. She would put anything in her mouth. Anything. Anna had already told me about Gibson finding her sex-toy stash. She'd saved Gibson from a lifetime of needing therapy by mere seconds. They now kept their assortment of adult toys in a locked box on the top shelf of their closet. And I'd give anything not to know that.
In my kitchen, a three-tiered cake was resting on the middle of the wide oak table. It was in the shape of a heart, and each layer was a different shade of pink. Even the plastic tablecloth was pink. And the plates. And the silverware. Surrounding the cake were cookies and candies in various colors and styles, all of them with a heart theme. And little conversation hearts were spread over the table as edible decorations. It looked like we were throwing a birthday party for cupid.
We weren't. The party we were throwing was a conglomeration of congratulations. A banner taped above the sliding door leading to the wraparound porch out back announced all the festivities: Happy one year anniversary, Denny & Abby! Congratulations on publishing your second book, Kiera! Congratulations on your second album reaching #1, D-Bags! Happy Valentine's Day!
Abby had arranged the party. Not only was she a huge holiday nut, but she was also an impossibly organized multi-tasker. When she saw on opportunity to combine events, she jumped on it! The only thing that was missing from the banner was the fact that my little man was five months old today. But that fact was really only significant to Kellan and me. Most people didn't throw a birthday party every month of someone's life. But we celebrated the smallest milestones with our son.
It was lightly snowing outside, but that wasn't stopping our group from having a barbeque. Evan was in front of our stainless steel grill in a fluffy jacket and a stocking cap, flipping burgers and rotating the hotdogs. Matt was with him, his arms securely around Rachel, who looked like she was slowly freezing to death. As I watched other people come into the house to take a break from the chill, ducking under the massive banner as they did, I felt someone standing beside me.
Turning my head, I smiled over at Denny. He was completely clean-shaven; it was the first time I'd seen him that way since college. Back then, he'd seemed so young with his baby face and youthful smile. But he'd grown over the years, and now he looked like someone who knew exactly who he was and where he was going. The peaceful smile on his face told the world My life is good, and I'm content. Seeing him look that way lifted my heart.
Pointing over to the table of holiday-inspired confections, I told him, "You really weren't kidding about the holiday fetish, were you?"
Denny laughed as he looked my way. "No, I wasn't. You and Kellan will have to come over for St. Patrick's Day next month. You will not believe the dinner Abby serves." He twisted his lip. "Ever had green potatoes?"
I laughed at that remark and instantly pictured my pink table transformed into a green wonderland, full of foods that shouldn't ever be green. Glancing at the ring on his finger as he sipped his fruity pink punch, I told him, "Congratulations on your one year anniversary."
He paused with the cup to his mouth. "Thank you." After taking another drink, he told me, "I have some good news for you too. Like we talked about, I gave Irresistible to every publishing house I could. One of them called me yesterday. They're impressed with how well the book has been doing, and they absolutely loved the story. They want to talk to you about publishing it professionally."
My eyes widened. A traditional book deal? Right now, my book was only available on the Internet. Having my title on bookshelves everywhere would be the culmination of all of my dreams. Amazed, I told him, "Thank you for doing that. I'd love to talk to them."
I was still reeling over the news when Abby came up to Denny. Seeing the look on my face, she asked him, "Did you tell her?" When he nodded, she turned to me. "Congratulations, Kiera, we're very excited for you. I wanted to change the banner but Denny told me it was too soon to announce anything."
I smiled at her adorable accent. That was one of the perks for me when I hung out with Denny and his wife-two accents for the price of one. "Thank you. I'm still . . . taking it all in."
Abby nodded as she looped her arms through Denny's. "Well, you deserve your success, you and Kellan both." An impish smile crossed her lips and she added, "And isn't your congratulations cake gorgeous?"
"Definitely. It's almost nicer than your wedding cake." Abby lifted an eyebrow at me, and I had to laugh. Her wedding cake had been something straight out of a Martha Stewart catalog. There had been seven layers to it. And a fountain. I'm not joking.
Denny laughed with me, but stopped when Abby pouted at him. Giving her an adoring smile, he murmured, "Happy anniversary, sweetheart."
She immediately perked back up and leaned forward to kiss him. Shaking my head at the lovebirds, I turned away to give them some privacy. From the room behind me, I heard a person speaking through a microphone and cringed. Damn, someone had just turned on the karaoke machine. I'm not sure why I ever let Kellan convince me that we should get one. I'd only used it once, when just the two of us had been home, and that had been mortifying. But it was pretty amazing when Kellan took over, so I wasn't entirely disappointed with the purchase.
Excusing myself from Denny and Abby, I twisted around to head into the living room. Lightly kicking balloons out of my way, I came upon a sight that both made me laugh and warmed my heart. Griffin, in all his attention-seeking glory, was standing in front of the fireplace with Kellan; Kellan was holding our little boy in a front-facing infant carrier. Adorable wasn't a strong enough word to describe him. There was just something about an attractive man holding a baby . . .
Our living room had a capacious, open layout with clumps of furniture spaced here and there to break the space up. I could easily see every person who was curiously watching the two D-Bags about to perform. Anna, Gibson, and Kellan's sister, Hailey, were among them. Much to the chagrin of Gavin, Hailey had decided to move out here after she'd finished college. Well, I suppose Gavin wasn't too upset about it; it just gave him yet another reason to come visit. In fact, last I saw, Gavin and Riley were in the band's "practice room," a soundproof building that the boys used to work on new material. Riley was quickly becoming just as adept with the guitar as his older brother. He was also becoming just as impossibly attractive, a heartbreaker in the making.
Clearing his throat, Griffin brought the microphone to his lips. "Ladies and gentleman, I want to thank you all for coming tonight to The G and K Show." He licked his lips, then air-kissed the crowd. "It's our pleasure to entertain you." He started suggestively thrusting his hips, and I slapped my hand over my eyes.
Anna, sitting on an ottoman in front of them, busted out laughing. Gibson was sitting on her lap, giggling. Wearing a frilly red dress, white tights, and the cutest pair of Mary Janes, the adorable girl had her blond hair neatly pulled into symmetrical pigtails. Anna told me that Griffin had spent thirty minutes getting the pigtails to perfectly line up. When Gibson started clapping at her daddy's antics, everyone around started laughing.
Kellan, also laughing at Gibson, brought his microphone to his lips. "Can you just start the music so we can get this over with?"
Griffin frowned at Kellan, but pressed Play on the machine. When Debbie Gibson's "Lost In Your Eyes" started playing, Kellan lowered the mike and stared at Griffin in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? This is the song you wanted to sing?"
As my sister fell over backward she was laughing so hard, Griffin pointed at his daughter. "It's Debbie Gibson, dude. Gibson. It's for my daughter."
Kellan sighed as he closed his eyes. "If we're gonna do a duet, can we at least sing 'Electric Youth'?"
Griffin made an obscene gesture then headed back to the machine to change the song selection. Behind his back, Kellan started cracking up. When Kellan held the microphone back up, a tiny hand reached out to grab the cord. I smiled at our son, Ryder. Kellan had named him. He loved that the name was similar to his half brother's. I loved that it sounded a bit rock 'n' roll. The son of the lead singer of one of the hottest bands on earth should have an interesting name.
Ryder's face was just at the edge of the carrier; he was chewing on the end of it like a dog gnawing on his toy. His little fist curled around the microphone cord in triumph and he gave it a tug or two. Kellan smiled down at him and bounced a little on his feet. Those two were peas in a pod already. Ryder loved me without a doubt, but he was daddy's boy through and through. And he looked just like Kellan-thick light brown hair that stuck up no matter how hard I tried to keep it down, and deep, dark blue eyes that looked like the evening sky. Maybe I was a bit biased, but everything about him was perfect-his cheeks, his nose, his toothless smile, the cute little freckle on the back of his neck. Everything.
The boys had a tour starting for their successful sophomore album this summer. Ryder and I were going to go with the boys, just to see how it went. If it was too hard touring with him, then we would go home and work out something else out for future tours. Short visits, maybe. But Kellan and I were pretty easygoing, and Ryder was a dream baby, so I was expecting this tour to be just fine. Keeping Ryder away from the public was my biggest concern. Kellan's too. That's why we had a team joining us-we'd bumped our bodyguards up to two, and we'd hired a nanny. I didn't really think we'd need the nanny, I was pretty on top of things, but Kellan thought the extra help would be worth it. "And besides," he'd told me, "with a nanny, we could have a night or two alone for . . . dates." I was sold after that.
As "Electric Youth" started playing through the speakers, Jenny wrapped her arms around me. She had an engagement ring on her finger that twinkled in the living room lights. She and Evan hadn't been in any great hurry to move their relationship along, but he'd finally proposed to her last week. That left Matt and Rachel. Rumor was, Matt was going to propose to her on the day the boys left for their next tour. Rumor also had it that Matt was sweating bullets about it. I was positive he had nothing to worry about; Rachel was going to say yes.
"Hey, Kiera. Great party."
Leaning in to her, I laughed. "Thanks. Abby did most of it, though." Sighing, I looked back at Kellan. He'd started singing along with Griffin, but he was laughing so hard he didn't sound very good. He looked good, though.
Jenny snorted. "Is this because Kellan lost that bet?"
Looking over at her, I frowned. "What bet?"
She grinned and pulled her long locks away from her shoulder. "You know, Griffin bet him that he could knock Anna up again before Kellan knocked you up again." Jenny rolled her eyes. "I don't think Kellan actually accepted the bet, but still, you know how Griffin loves to win . . . anything."
My eyes widened as far as they could go. Anna was pregnant again? Sitting herself up, Anna happened to glance my way. When she saw my face, then saw Jenny beside me, she instantly knew that I knew. Her lips curled into a smirk, and she merely shrugged at me. I was so floored, I could barely come up with words. When I did, they were laced with disbelief. "Those two are going to overpopulate the earth, aren't they?"
Jenny pursed her lips. "Yep. Probably."
Kellan had control over his chuckles by the second verse. Then he started getting into it. Always the performer, he gave the cheesy eighties teeny-bopper anthem his best. No one in the room had dry eyes. Not Cheyenne, Meadow, or the rest of Poetic Bliss. Not Justin or Kate, cuddling on the love seat. Not Troy, Rita, or Sam.
When Kellan and Griffin's song was over, Kellan and Ryder took a small bow. Then Kellan handed the microphone out to Rain. Just as eager to perform as Griffin, Rain jumped off the couch and ran up to the "stage." They had to pry the microphone cord away from Ryder, which made him start to cry. Bouncing him as he walked, Kellan reached into his back pocket and handed him a rattle in the shape of a guitar. He instantly started shaking it, a smile on his tiny lips.
Kellan walked over to me, pulling Ryder out of his carrier as he did. My face scrunched up into a "gimme" expression as I held my hands out for my baby. Kellan instantly handed him over, kissing his head before he did. Warmth and softness overwhelmed me as I held Ryder close. I inhaled a deep breath as he grabbed a fistful of my hair. He smelled like Kellan. Somehow, whether it was hereditary or just a by-product of being so close to Kellan all the time, Ryder always seemed to smell like his daddy. It was incredible.
Hours later, when the party was over, I wandered through my home littered with red Solo cups and half-eaten pieces of cake. I felt totally at peace. Even messy from a party, this place was my sanctuary. My journey here had been tumultuous at best, but it was worth every scrape, heartache, and tear. Kellan and I were who we are now because of it. We'd learned to open up to each other, to trust each other, to face the world together. I firmly believed now that there was nothing we couldn't tackle together. No hurdle, no obstacle, no setback was so large that it would break us apart, and there was comfort and confidence in that knowledge.
Shuffling past stray balloons that had somehow found their way upstairs-I'd worry about cleaning up my safe haven later-I made my way to Ryder's bathroom. I could hear splashing water and Kellan's voice. Oddly enough, he was singing "Electric Youth" again. The song must have gotten stuck in his head. Heading for the open door, I leaned against the frame and watched my husband bathe his son.
Ryder was lying in a small blue plastic tub inside the larger one, keeping him safe and secure. As Kellan gently poured a cup of water over his head, Ryder's mouth opened wide and his tongue shot out, like he was waiting to get a drink. He shoved his hand in his mouth instead. When Kellan noticed me watching, he turned his head my way. "You can go lie down if you want. I got this."
Smiling, I shook my head. "I like watching the two of you together."
Rubbing some soap in his hands, Kellan told Ryder, "Hear that? Mommy likes to watch. That's called voyeurism." He sounded the word out, like he was expecting Ryder to repeat it back to him. Instead Ryder pressed his lips together and blew out, humming his lips and getting spittle all over his little face.
Stepping up to Kellan, I nudged his butt with my foot. Jackass. Chuckling, Kellan got to work sudsing up Ryder's hair; there was dried frosting in it. Thanks to a moment of playful splashing by Ryder, Kellan was a little wet by the time the bath was over. Pulling him out of the tub, Kellan wrapped Ryder in a towel shaped like a giant yellow duck. As if a man holding a baby wasn't cute enough, a man holding a baby wearing a hood shaped like a duck bill was downright delightful.
I wasn't sure if it was normal or not, but just watching him take care of his son was putting me in the mood. Maybe I should go lie down, wait for him in bed with just my KK underwear on. But I couldn't stop watching him with Ryder, and I followed the duo when they headed over to Ryder's bedroom.
We'd turned Ryder's room into a stage. Jenny had helped me paint it, since she was the one blessed with artistic talent. One wall was painted black with thick red curtains on either side of it. Ryder's crib was positioned in front of the black wall, in the lead singer's position. My mother had flipped out when I'd told her that I painted Ryder's room black. But it was an homage to Pete's, the starting point of both Kellan's career and our relationship; we were even going to hang some guitars on the wall when Ryder was older. And besides, every parenting magazine I'd ever read said that babies loved the contrast between black and white. And every other wall in his room was white. Well, white except for the black five-line stave across the center of each wall. Jenny had done an outstanding job with those. And the notes sliding up and down the perfectly straight lines were to an actual D-Bags song, the sad song that Kellan had been singing when we got back together. His ode to me. The significance squeezed my heart every time I walked into this room.
Wading through a sea of books and toys, Kellan laid Ryder down on his changing table and quickly slapped a diaper on him. That was something we'd both learned right away: if you wait too long to put a diaper on a baby boy, you were going to get peed on. Kellan got it in the face once. I'd nearly passed out from laughing so hard. Once Ryder was safe, Kellan leaned down and blew raspberries on his stomach. My favorite sound in the world filled the room-the uninhibited belly laugh of a sweet little human being that knew nothing about feeling self-conscious. It was infectious, and Kellan and I were both laughing right along with him.
After a half-dozen kisses, one on each foot, one on each hand, and a few on his cheeks, Kellan finally got him into his pajamas. Ryder's belly was already full, and he was rubbing his eyes like a madman, so I knew he was seconds away from sleep. Kellan still held him and rocked him until his eyes closed, though. And he sang to him. He sang to him almost every night. And he always told him that he loved him, like he wanted to make sure that Ryder never doubted that, not for an instant.
My eyes were wet when Kellan put our sleeping child to bed. Glancing up at me, he crooked a smile. "Every time," he whispered.
"What?" I sniffled.
Grabbing my hand, he quietly pulled me from the room, shutting the door after him. "Every time I put him to sleep, you cry. Why do you do that?"
Because I love you more than any one person should be allowed to love someone.
"I just love seeing how much you love him." In my complete happiness, I felt a tear roll down my cheek.
Stepping in to me, Kellan grabbed my hands and lowered his forehead to mine. His thumb traced his name on my wrist. "I love you too, you know."
I nodded. "I do know. You show me every day." Pulling back, I indicated our bedroom with my head. "But why don't you show me again right now?"
The smile that crept over Kellan's face was so devilishly handsome that a rush of desire flooded through me. I loved that he still had that effect on my body. "I would love to show you, again and again and again." He bit his lip, then slowly dragged his teeth across them while his eyes scoured my body. It was such a hot move. I felt naked already. And sexy, and loved, and wanted.
Needing him just as much as I'd always needed him, I pressed my body against his and wrapped my arms around his neck. With my chest flush against him, I stood on my toes until my lips were barely brushing his. "Take me to our room and make love to me nice and slow . . . please?" Not a trace of embarrassment was inside of me as I asked for him. I could ask him anything. I could tell him anything. I could be anything with him. I could be everything with him.
Kellan pressed me against the hallway wall, making me gasp. As his lips lowered to mine, his hands reached down and, scooping up my legs, wrapped them around his waist. Hungry and passionate, his mouth worked over mine. When he paused, we were both breathing heavier. We were both ready and aching for the other. "I love it when you beg," he husked, before stepping away from the wall and carrying me to our plush bedroom.
He didn't set me down until we reached our bed. I felt on fire as he stripped my clothes off. He hissed in a breath when I removed his shirt and kissed over his tattoo. By the desire racing between us, you would think we hadn't been together in weeks, not twenty-four hours, but that was just the way it was with us-electric. Every time.
His fingers unfastened my jeans and my fingers ducked inside the waistband of his. I wanted him, so much. He whimpered as I felt his need for me. By the time we were both laid bare, I knew I was going to explode soon, but that's when Kellan's expertise kicked in. Instead of finishing what we both wanted as quickly as possible, he took his time. He dragged it out. He kept me on edge, wanting more and more. It paralleled our relationship-always wanting more of him, never having enough. Sure, we had our moments, just like any relationship, but being with him, in any capacity, was always satisfying. And I knew by his reaction as we both finally reached our climaxes that he felt the same way. He needed more and more of me. He would always want me near him. I would always be first in his eyes. We were a good match. A perfect match. Soul mates.
Passion, friendship, love, loyalty, trust . . . if you found the right person . . . you really could have it all.