Beats of Life (Perception Book 5) (30 page)

Slater

4 Months Later….

“Are you sure this looks okay?” Kylie questions concerned.

“Fuck yes,” I reply without any hesitation.

She is wearing a teeny tiny black stringed bikini and she looks as hot as……..I don’t even have any words to say how hot she looks right now. The most gorgeous part is her beautiful round pregnant belly that is proudly on display.

“I feel fucking ridiculous,” I inform, peering down at the floral print board shorts Kylie purchased for me to wear. At first, I bluntly refused to wear the hideous, ball busting, penis shrinking, monstrosity shorts she had purchased for me. But once her eyes pleaded into mine and she promised I would be thoroughly rewarded for wearing them, I knew I was never going to deny her request. My dick and I would do anything for her.

She giggles loudly as she walks over to our overflowing suitcases we haven’t bothered to unpack that are sitting in the middle of our large suite.

“It was either those, or these,” she advises cheekily, holding up a pair of red speedos. I gag. Just seeing them hanging from Kylie’s finger is enough to make me want to vomit.

“I think I will stick with these,” I reply sarcastically. I don’t see what is so wrong about wearing a pair of jeans to the beach. I have no intentions of going in the water, so why do I need to wear swimmers?

Kylie and I have finally arrived in Fiji. It took as a little longer to get here than we would have liked, but Kylie needed time to grieve and then the band has been in the studio recording our third album for the past two months, so life just got too hectic for us to slip away.

“I could go naked?” I suggest. We do have the entire beach to ourselves so technically clothing could be optional. Although it would make it a little hard for me to hide the engagement ring I currently have in my pocket.

“Oh, don’t you worry, I fully plan on getting you naked on that beach,” Kylie informs seductively, opening the large double white doors of our suite, showcasing the beautiful beach that is solely ours, while also blasting our room with stuffy humid air.

“But you are going to be on the bottom,” she continues, causing me to chuckle loudly.

By the time we are walking back to our private bungalow, I am thoroughly satisfied and absolutely exhausted. Kylie’s sexual appetite has always impressed the hell out of me, but now that she is pregnant she is even more sexually demanding and I am loving every fucking moment of her pregnancy cravings.

“I thought you said you weren’t going swimming?” she questions cheekily as we walk hand in hand into the blissful comfort of our air-conditioned bungalow.

I had no intentions of swimming, but have you ever been to Fiji? It is fucking hot. I’ve been guzzling bottles of water all day just to make sure I stay hydrated since I am sweating profusely. I swear someone has inserted a leaking tap into my arm pit.

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath when it suddenly dawns on me that I went swimming with her engagement ring in my pocket. My hands instantly dart into the pockets of my board shorts and I groan loudly and curse a few more times when my hands come out empty.

“Are you okay?” Kylie questions concerned, wrapping a sarong over her teeny tiny wet bikini.

“Yep,” I reply, swallowing harshly a few times. That ring cost me a fucking fortune. The jeweler said that you are supposed to spend the equivalent of ten percent of your yearly salary on an engagement ring. I don’t know if he was full of shit or not, but forever wanting better than anyone else, I spent twenty percent.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kylie questions moving over towards me. “Because you certainly don’t look very well,” she continues, her concerned eyes slowly roaming over her face.

I feel like I am going to be fucking sick. How could I have been so stupid to go swimming with her ring in my shorts? You would think with the size of the diamond I would have been able to feel it falling out of my pocket.

Kylie’s sparkling eyes flick between mine. She lifts her hand and places it on my cheek, like she is checking if I have a fever. I don’t have a fever. I am just fuming at my own stupidity. When she turns her hand over, I feel something cold against my cheek. Maybe I do have a fever? She smiles largely, before pulling her hand away.

“Maybe you’re not really sick, maybe you’re a little scared?” she questions cheekily.

My eyes roll dramatically. I’m not scared of anything. Except spiders, but those hairy legged bastards are gross. Oh and I’m petrified of losing her. I wouldn’t be able to live without her in my life. People think I am overreacting, but they don’t know the hell I went through that week waiting for Kylie’s results. I couldn’t even eat or sleep as I was so fucking worried that I was going to lose her. To lessen my panic, I now make Kylie have blood tests every month. That way if her blood count rises by even the slightest increment I can organize additional tests. Kylie thinks I am being a worry wart, but she happily complies with my request just to give me peace of mind.

The instant my eyes turn to hers, I sign loudly. The ring I have been panicked out of my mind about is sitting exactly where it is supposed to be, on her ring finger, that she is wiggling excessively in front of my face. My heart rate slowly decelerates just from seeing the ring that cost my more than my entire loft. Thank fuck she found it.

“It fell out of your pocket before we went to the beach,” she informs giggling softly. I am glad she can see the humor in the situation as I am on the verge of having a heart attack.

Hold on, wait just one minute. Since it is already on her ring finger does that mean I still have to propose? Because technically she has already agreed to marry me, or she wouldn’t be wearing it on her finger right now.

“Get on your knees Slater,” she informs sternly, like she can read my thoughts.

I instantly drop to the ground and crawl towards her like a slave begging his master for forgiveness. I have been practicing the perfect grovel the past two months, just in case I need it at any time during our marriage. I know I am far from perfect, but Kylie assures me that she loves me for me, so I will continue being who I am, which means the occasional bout of groveling may be required at some stage in the future.

Once I reach her feet, I peer up and have to lean sideways to see her face past her seven-month pregnant belly, causing her to giggle loudly. I raise myself on my knees and end up face to face with her well rounded and glowing tummy. I love Kylie’s belly, seriously I do, but just like Charlie the baby and I have an agreement. It is not to move in her belly at any stage during sexual activities. If the baby complies with my request, I supply the baby with an unlimited amount of glazed jams donuts, which Kylie assures me the baby loves. Thankfully, our agreement is working very well for both parties at this stage.

I place a quick peck on her belly, before raising my eyes to Kylie’s. Here it is, right here and right now, four words I assumed would never escape my lips. I swallow harshly a few more times, ensuring my throat is well lubricated and void of any fear. My heart rapidly beats and my palms sweat. The instant I spot Kylie’s tongue darting out to lick her lips, my nerves instantly vanish.

“Will you--”

“Yes!” she squeals in response before I even get the whole question out, causing me to chuckle loudly.

And everyone tries to tell me I am the impatient one in our relationship.

Slater

4 years later…..

No matter how many times I visit her it never gets any easier. I swallow harshly and take in a deep breath before my eyes roam around the lawn cemetery to ensure there are no paparazzi hiding in wait. They never cut you any slack, even when you are visiting a cemetery.

“Come on, daddy,” Penelope requests, wiggling in her car seat. I move to the back passenger side of my Hummer, unbuckle Penelope from her car seat and gently lift her out of my car, before leaning back in to grab the tulips I had purchased at the florist earlier this morning.

The instant my hand encloses over Penelope’s chubby little hand, I hear the clicking of cameras and ruffling in the bushes at the entrance way of the cemetery. I raise my middle finger into the air and face it in the direction the noise is coming from. I smirk arrogantly over the fact that they will have trouble selling any of the pictures they are currently taking. I have learnt the past few years that no magazine will print a picture of me flipping the bird, so that is exactly what I give the paparazzi anytime they hassle me. I don’t mind posing for photos during events or when I am on tour with the band, but once I am home I expect a little bit of respect and god forbid privacy.

Penelope’s beautiful little giggle comes bellowing out of her mouth the instant she notices my finger, before her face morphs into anger.

“Unky Jacob said that is not a nice finger,” she reprimands sternly.

“Uncle Jacob doesn’t know what he is talking about,” I reply, lifting her up to sit on my hip so I can quickly make our way further into the cemetery. Because the cemetery is gated, they can only capture us while we are in the carpark.

Once we are in far enough away that they will no longer be able to get any photos of Penelope, I gently place her back down on her feet.

“They are pretty flower’s daddy,” she says with a slight amount of twang in her voice.

“Thank you, darling,” I reply in my best country accent, making her giggle again.

Penelope is our little blessing. The baby Kylie and I thought we would never be able to have. She is turning four years old in six weeks and three days. Yes, I know the exact amount of days as she informs me first thing every morning the instant she wakes up. She has been counting down to her birthday party she is having for the past three months. Penelope is named after both Serena and Melanie. Her full name is Penelope Rae. Penelope was my sisters middle name and Rae was Melanie’s. Her face is a beautiful as her mothers and she even has a small gathering of freckles across her little button nose. Her hair is a cross between both Kylie’s and mine, making it dark blonde in color. Her hair is flawlessly straight and I always joke that it would be perfect dreads.

I haven’t been able to grow my dreads back since I cut them off over four years ago. I’ve tried, but have you ever tried to get past that annoying fuzz stage when you are in your late twenties and early thirties? I could get away with it when I was a teenager, but I’m a dad now and I looked fucking ridiculous with a fuzz ball on the top of my head, so I end up having my hair clipped all the time.

Once I reach her gravestone, I place the tulips on top before squatting down to clear away the leaves that have fallen over her plaque. A large smile stretches across my face when Penelope gathers all the leaves and places them in a pile underneath the tree they have fallen from. She is a tree hugger and loves being surrounded by nature.

Once the gravesite is back in presentable condition, I sit down on the ground and Penelope comes and sits in my lap. I don’t say anything, I don’t need too, she knows I am here. I just sit and quietly reflect on my memories.

Around five minutes later, I chuckle softly at Penelope’s obnoxious sighs and grunts. She is as impatient as I am and I’m surprised she even managed to last five minutes today.

“I miss mommy,” she whispers softly.

“I know you do baby girl, so do I,” I reply, lifting her to sit on my lap sideways. Her dazzling hazel eyes turn up to look into mine and it tugs at my heart to see little tears forming in them. Wanting to ensure her tears don’t fall down her face, I quickly dart my hand up and pretend to steal her nose.

“I’ve got your nose,” I tease, sticking out part of my thumb between two fingers. She falls for this trick every single time. Her mouth drops open wide in shock and her hands shoot up to her nose.

“Give it back daddy,” she pleads. Her angry eyes are only faltered when I notice her huge cheeky grin peeking out from underneath her hands. Just like her mother, she can’t fake being angry.

“I am going to eat it,” I say, raising my hand to my mouth. She squeals loudly and jumps out of my lap to grab my hand before it can get any closer to my mouth.

“You can’t eat my nose daddy,” she informs mortified. “You can eat the boogers, but not my nose,” she continues sternly, making me chuckle loudly.

How could I have ever been scared of having kids. Having Penelope means I get to act even more immature than I use too. I even have the privilege of testing out all of her toys for
safety
before she even gets to use them.

“I’ve already had breakfast today, but thanks for the offer,” I reply, only slightly chuckling.

“You’re welcome,” she replies politely. She has such wonderful manners. I have no clue who she gets them from. I pretend to pop her nose back onto her face, triggering her to smile brightly before standing from the ground, lifting her up with me.

“Did you want to go and visit Nevaeh?” I question. Penelope eagerly nods her head, her excitement beaming out of her.

I lean over and kiss the top of the gravestone. “I’ll come back in a couple of days,” I inform softly, before walking hand in hand out of the cemetery with one of my most precious little gifts.

Penelope lets out a little yawn when I buckle her into her seatbelt. She has been waking up early the past few mornings and I’ve been waiting for it to catch up to her. By the time I make it out of the cemetery carpark, she is fast asleep in her car seat. Her little snores are only just audible over the noise of my engine. Once I arrive at our destination, I gently remove her from my car and her little arms instantly wrap around my neck.

When I make it to Nevaeh’s room, I try to wake Penelope up.

“Penelope,” I gently whisper into her ear. She mumbles incoherently and turns her head to face the other direction. “Penelope, Nevaeh is here,” I inform gently, trying to wake her up. The instant Nevaeh’s name escapes my lips Penelope’s head darts up off my shoulder.

“Nevie?” she questions half asleep. When she notices me nodding my head, she squirms in my arms, requesting to be put down. I place her gently down on her feet and her eager eyes dart around the room.

“Hi Penelope,”

“Mommy!” yells Penelope loudly before she charges towards Kylie sitting in a reclining chair in the corner of her room. She is nursing our newborn daughter Nevaeh in her arms.

It had taken us nearly a year of IVF to add Nevaeh into our family. We used a similar service that is now offered to other sufferers of ALL through the Melanie Greystone Foundation, but instead of using a donated egg, we were able to harvest a small number of eggs from Kylie’s one remaining working ovary. Since Nevaeh has completed our family, Kylie is planning on donating her remaining eggs to Melanie’s foundation.

There was a lot of legal propaganda the foundation had to wade through to legally give away Melanie’s eggs as she requested. But with the help of Jenni’s dad Michael, we managed to jump through all the hoops and the foundation has been going strong for the past two years. The foundation not only receives donations from previous ALL sufferers, but they also accept egg donations from the general public as well. It already has the ability to claim credit for eighteen children being born to ALL sufferers since its inaugural year. 

Nevaeh was born four days ago via an emergency c section. The last four nights have been the longest amount of time I have been separated from Kylie in the past nearly five years. It is also the only time Penelope hasn’t had her mom or grandma at her beck and call twenty-four-seven. She has been missing Kylie just as much as I have been. We visit her and Nevaeh every day, but it’s not the same as seeing her every minute of the day. I really hope today the doctors will give me permission to take all of my girl’s home.

Our home is now a beautiful big rustic farmhouse on the outskirts of town. I never thought I would live on a farm, but the instant I saw the for sale sign swinging at the front of a property neighboring Jacob’s dads house, I knew I had to buy it for Kylie, knowing it was going to be the perfect place to raise our family. It did need a lot of work, but I had a lot of contacts in the construction industry since I use to work in it before I became famous. All of my old crew were more than happy to work on our property from sun up to sun down and they managed to have the entire rebuilt completed just before Penelope was born. The original plan was that we were going to equally divide our time between both the farm and the loft, but once Penelope started crawling it soon became apparent that the loft wasn’t baby friendly, so our time at the farm house lengthened until we eventually ended up staying their fulltime.

The rest of the warehouse conversion at our loft was completed nearly three years ago and it makes a pretty neat profit for Penelope’s and now Nevaeh’s trust funds. The loft is still in its original bachelor pad condition. But now instead of being a bachelor pad, it is where Kylie and I spend all our dirty weekends. Either Kylie’s mom looks after Penelope at our house or my mom will take her for overnight visits at her house and we spend the entire weekend naked in our loft. Even after four and a half years, I can’t get enough of my girl and I plan naughty weekends as often as possible.

Has my panic about her getting sick lessened any the past four years? No, it hasn’t. But I am confident even if Kylie does get ALL again she will give it her hardest fight to ensure our girls aren’t left without a mother. She will fight until her very last breath and I have no doubt that she is strong enough to overcome any obstacles life throws at her.

“We went and saw Aunty Rena,” Penelope informs Kylie proudly.

“Did you,” Kylie replies, her spare hand running gently down Penelope’s hair, trying to smooth the birds nest her car seat made. Once she has her hair all straighten, her eyes turn up to look at me, silently questioning if I am okay. I gently nod my head. Today is the anniversary of my sister’s death, but taking Penelope to her gravesite really helped to ease the pain I normally feel.

“Oh no,” Penelope says, her bottom lip pouting dramatically. “I forgot to give Aunt Rena her horsey,” she continues, her little hazel eyes rapidly filling with tears.

Penelope is obsessed with horses just like her mother was at her age. She has a large collection of toy horses that she proudly displays on purposely built shelves in her room. This morning, she picked out her favorite horse to give to Serena as a gift. I’m not going to lie, when she told me that she was giving her favorite horse to Serena, a tear did form in my eye and I felt like the biggest fucking pussy in the world, but I was so proud of my baby girl that I proudly wore that tear in my eye. Penelope never had the opportunity of meeting her Aunt Serena or Aunt Melanie but she undoubtedly loves them both. She regularly asks questions about them and proudly tells her playmates about her two guardian angels she has watching over her.

“It’s okay baby girl,” Kylie says, trying her hardest to comfort Penelope while holding Nevaeh. I move over and gently lift Nevaeh from Kylie’s arms so she can properly comfort Penelope. She hates seeing tears in her eyes nearly as much as I do.

Looking down at little Nevaeh in my arms brings up so many memories of Serena. Nevaeh has strawberry blonde hair and tiny little facial features just like Serena did. The only difference between her and Serena is that her eyes are brown. We called her Nevaeh as it is heaven spelt backwards and she is our own little slice of heaven.

“Maybe we can go and give Serena your horsey on our way home today?” Kylie suggests, instantly halting Penelope’s tears and forcing a huge smile on my face.

“You’re coming home?” I question eagerly.

Kylie smiles largely while nodding her head, triggering me to holler and jump excitedly into the air. I have missed her so fucking much the past four days that I never plan on being away from her this long ever again. Kylie giggles loudly at my reaction, Penelope joins me in jumping around in excitement and Nevaeh continues sleeping peacefully in my arms, not even phased by my reaction.