Rock the City: A Midnight Fate Novel (37 page)

It scared me when Lemon believed it was a boy and not a girl, because a large part of her reasoning for having such a hard time was because she couldn’t bear to look into Rusty’s eyes for the rest of her life. She was so sure it was a boy that I’m not sure she ever considered what would happen if it
wasn’t
a boy.

Her therapist stands up from her chair in the opposite corner and makes sure Lemon’s okay. Lane and I take a moment to step back, letting them talk in private.

He pulls me against his chest and says, “Breathe. It’s okay.”

“I was worried what would happen if it was a girl. Will she change her mind now?”

“Noelle,” Lemon says from the exam table.

I lift my head off Lane’s chest and look at her. She’s holding out her hand and motioning for me to stand with her. “What is it?”

With her therapist standing next to her, she gains the support she needs. With conviction, she looks me straight in the eyes. “I need you to know this doesn’t change anything for me. This baby is still
your
daughter.”

She hands me a blank envelope and I open it, wondering what it is. Pulling out the papers, I carefully unfold them, unsure of what’s waiting for me once I do. With one quick glance over the first paragraph of the letter, all my doubt melts away. This is the reason why we’re adopting her baby. “Ohmigod, Lemon. This is amazing.”

“I’m going to school,” she says with so much pride my heart’s about to burst inside my chest. “After I graduate, I want to help girls like me. The way my therapist has helped me.”

I hand the papers to Lane so he can see her letter of acceptance. It’s a local community college, the perfect place for Lemon to begin her new life. She’ll stay at the center until she has the baby and they’ll monitor her closely following delivery. After that, she’s free.

“Your life’s just beginning, Lemon. The sky’s the limit now.”

“Thanks to you and Lane. You’re the ones giving me the chance to make something of myself—to live for the first time in my life.”

“No, Lemon. That’s all you. You’re the one who gets to write your own ending. And I may have missed out on a lot of your life, but hundreds of girls are going to benefit from your story. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to have a chance to tell it.”

“Maybe someday,” she says, with more hope than I could ever imagine. She smiles proudly and her cheeks turn the sweetest shade of pink as she absorbs my praise—the validation she’s spent a lifetime searching for.

She’s got this.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be moms at the same time. This is like everything I’ve dreamed of, Noelle. Husbands who are best friends, little babies growing up together. It’s the way I’ve always wanted it to be.”

I take the last batch of triple chocolate cookies out of the oven, making sure to get them off the cookie sheet before they get too hard around the edges. Lark’s very particular about her latest pregnancy craving. “Have you decided on a name yet?”

She grabs the biggest cookie on the tray, moaning around the first bite. “I wanted to name him after Easton, but he’s not having any of that.”

“Why not?”

“Because his real name isn’t the greatest, and he doesn’t want the baby to be teased his whole life. Considering Easton’s a stage name, I had to let it go.”

“How bad could his real name be?”

She shakes her head and laughs, snatching another cookie as she slides off her stool. “Noelle, I know you. You can’t keep your mouth shut. You’ll get me in so much trouble.”

“I resent that. How long have you known?”

“I found out when we got married and signed the license. Had it not been for that, I’m pretty sure I never would have found out.”

Her first mistake is telling me Easton’s a stage name. Her second is mentioning that his real name is terrible. It only makes me want to know more. “What was your reaction when you saw it in writing?”

“I laughed and then he walked away. But looking back, it’s only funny because he’s Easton to me. He doesn’t look like his real name at all.”

Again, that does nothing to help her case or make me any less curious. “Come on, Lark. We’re mom bonding. You can tell me.”

She exhales, a wave of guilt flooding her before she finally says, “Okay, but don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t.”

“His full name is Elmore Eugene Beckett. Elmore after his paternal grandfather and Eugene after his maternal side. He shortened his last name to Beck.”

I stare at her like she’s trying to punk me. When she doesn’t tell me she’s joking, my jaw hits the floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me. No parent is
that
cruel.”

“The name was actually given to him out of respect for the family. Both names have traditionally been handed down for generations.”

“Well, thank God you’re breaking that tradition. I mean, if Easton hadn’t joined a band, he’d still be walking around with that name attached to him.”

“Maybe, but even if he weren’t in a band, something tells me he would have changed it regardless. He’s pretty sensitive about it.”

“Rightfully so.”

She yawns, her eyes suddenly as heavy as mine feel. These late-night recording sessions are getting to all of us, but the band is trying to get the new album finished before the babies are born. As much as we want our guys back, we can’t argue with that logic.

“Why don’t you go to bed,” I tell her. “I’ll finish the dishes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Go lie down. I can tell your back is bothering you.”

She nods and stands up, stretching her arms above her head. As I wipe off the counters and finish cleaning up our mess, I think about all the names in the universe and how it’s going to be next to impossible for Lane and me to agree on the same one. That’s if I even have the right to name a baby I didn’t give birth to. If I did, a part of me will always wonder what Lemon would have preferred or who she sees when she looks at her little girl.

Our
little girl. Lane’s constantly reminding me that we aren’t borrowing her; she’s going to be our daughter forever. As hard as it is to wrap my mind around, in my heart I believe everything happens for a reason.

When we met, I didn’t understand why I crossed paths with Lane, and it was even more of a mystery about the timing. Why would God put this amazing man on the same path as me only to separate us for months? But little by little, as the pieces fit together, I see why the larger picture. Lane’s my family—and she’s going to be ours forever.

Smiling, I turn the lights off and check on Lark before I leave. After I make sure she’s asleep, I slip out, ready to crawl into my own bed for the night.

I’m leaning against the wall by the elevators, checking the messages on my phone, when the doors open. I’m not expecting to be face to face with Easton. One look at him, and I become a terrible human being as a million different jokes flutter across my tongue—each one begging to be set free.

“Why do you look like you’re about to be sick?” he asks as I clench my jaw as tightly as I can to keep the words inside.

Chancing it, I quickly tell him, “I ate too many cookies, but your wife’s asleep.”

“Okay. Thanks for entertaining her today. I hate when she’s by herself for too long.”

“She’s my best friend. It’s not exactly a chore to hang out with her.”

He holds the door as I step inside the elevator. “Night, Noelle.”

“Night, Elmore,” I tell him, just as the doors meet in the center.

Even though they’re closed and I’m moving, I can still hear him banging against the steel and cursing.
I’m in so much trouble.

I wait for my phone to ring or light up with a text, but nothing happens. Staring at it when I walk into the kitchen, I don’t even notice Lane’s home until I realize I didn’t have to unlock the door to get here.

Tossing my purse on the counter, I walk into the bedroom where Lane’s lying across the bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. “You make reading look sexy.”

“I was coming down to get you as soon as I finished this.”

“New song?”

“Na, just something I picked up at the studio.”

I take off my cookie dough-covered clothes and pounce on the bed next to him in only my bra and underwear.

Lane closes his book and tosses it on the floor, focusing all his attention on me instead. I slide my hands up his strong arms and hook my hands around the back of his neck. “I made a decision.”

“Am I going to like this decision?”

“I think so. We can talk about in the morning though.”

“Baby, put me out of my misery. Did you accept the deal on the salon?”

It’s been a couple weeks since I put both the salon and the house on the market. The house sold within two days, and I’m already scheduled to move most of my things into storage at the end of the week.

The only thing that’s still tying me to Pennsylvania is my business. I thought a lot about signing ownership over to someone else, but in the end, I thought it was best to close up shop and sell the space. If I’m being honest, my heart’s not in it the way it was before I met Lane and found out I was going to have a child. The baby is where I want to focus my attention—especially during those crucial bonding moments when she’s first born.

A couple days ago, I had an interested buyer step up, and after some careful consideration and time with my lawyer going over the paperwork, I’ve discovered a couple things. “I’m going to accept the deal on one condition.”

“What’s that?” he asks, curiously.

“You tell me the truth.”

His eyes flicker the slightest bit of recognition, giving him away for a second or two, but he changes directions so fast I get whiplash when he picks me up and carries me like a monkey into the bathroom. “How about a bath?” he suggests out of the blue.

“I smell like cookies. You sure you want me to take a bath?”

He hesitates before setting me on the counter next to the sink. “The last time you came home smelling like cookies, you couldn’t walk the next day.”

“Exactly, so if this is going to be a repeat performance, I’m saying no.”

Smiling, he turns the water on in the tub, the steam already fogging up the mirror behind me. “You don’t have to smell like cookies for me to dirty you up. Do you want one of those fizzy things?”

I laugh because he’s as into my bath bomb addiction as I am. “Grab the pink and purple one in the drawer.”

“What’s it do?”

“It’s the sex bomb.”

He opens the drawer and just laughs along with me when he sees they’re all sex bombs. That’s all I bought this time. “What are you trying to tell me?”

I curl my finger, silently calling him over. Once he’s standing in front of me, I slide my fingers underneath the band of his boxers, teasing him. “I’m telling you I want you, Lane.”

“I want you, too. Always.”

“But?” I question as my hands inch lower and lower.

He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. “The only butt is this sexy ass of yours I want in the air.”

“You’re sure? There’s nothing you’re keeping from me?”

He shuts the water off, avoiding eye contact as he does. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His guilty conscience is eating him alive, and as much as I hate him keeping shit from me, it’s hard to be mad at this.