Someone to Watch Over Me (33 page)

“How do you stop mid stream like that? Isn’t
that bad?”

“You would think so, but no. It’s actually a
good thing. And stop shaking the wand like that. It’s not a
thermometer.”

“I don’t get it. Why is it a good
thing?”

“Kegels, the muscles that control urine
flow, also affect orgasm.”

Snorting, Tate smiled crookedly. “You have
amazing Kegels.”

“Thanks.” Squinting at the wand in my hand,
my stomach quavered. Was there a line forming? I couldn’t quite
tell. No, my mind was playing tricks on me. I was seeing
things.

“A pink line means negative, right,
Coop?”

“What?”

Holding the wand up so I could see, Tate
rationalized his question. “A pink line. I mean, it would be a plus
sign if it was positive, right?”

“Oh God!” I glanced back at my own wand,
which was now forming a definitive pink line. “Oh God!”

“Coop?”

“This can’t be happening!”

“Coop.”

“A pink line is positive! I’m fucking
pregnant!”

Taking my face between his hands, Tate held
my gaze, gathering my attention. “Cooper.”

“I can’t do this again.”

“You can.” As if everything was right in the
world, he smiled. My fears seemed to fade away, or at least dwindle
to a manageable degree. My momentary lapse of hysteria waned. This
came as no surprise. We hadn’t used protection. Pregnancy was a
strong possibility.

“I’m in this with you, babe. We do it
together.”

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. He
was either amazing or insane. “You have no idea of what you’re
getting yourself into.”

“Piece of cake.”

Before I could catch myself, I barked a
laugh. “Based on what experience?”

The look he gave me said, ‘duh.’ “Levy.”

“Levy is
two
. You can hardly judge
anything by spending a month with him. He’s completely different.
You haven’t had to change a diaper or get puked on.”

“Like I said; piece of cake.” Grinning, Tate
pressed a kiss to my lips. “Come on. Let’s go tell everyone the
good news.”

“What? Are you insane? You can’t tell anyone
yet!”

“Why not?”

“I need some time to let this sink in, Tate.
Besides, you’re not supposed to tell anybody until after the
twelfth week.” Hastily, I cleaned myself up and prepared to run
from the topic of conversation. I could face it later. Much later.
Like nine months later.

“Why?”

“I could miscarry before then.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Levy is living proof. You’re strong.
Everything’s going to be fine.” As I finished buttoning my jeans,
Tate pulled me into his arms. “Do you love me, Coop?”

“Of course.”

“Do I make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you so freaked out? Nothing’s
going to change. You can still have a career. We’ll just have one
more underfoot.”

“It’s not that. I gave up my music career a
long time ago.” Levy always came first. “I’m twenty-one, Tate, and
pregnant with—”

“Your husband’s child,” he reminded me.
“We’re married, Cooper.”

“We’ve known each other a month. Do you know
what people are going to think? They’re going to think we had a
shotgun wedding.”

“Fuck them.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the
one who’ll have the tabloids dragging your name through the dirt
because you have kids by two different men.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
Tate drawled. “Levy’s mine as much as you are. I love that
kid.”

The retort perched on the edge of my lip
slipped away. Tate was amazing at disarming me. He always knew just
what to say. He had a remarkable knack for leaving me
speechless.

“The next time the subject arises, you point
at me,” he continued, “and you tell him yes, that’s your daddy,
because I’m the only one he’ll ever know.”

“You’re insane.”

“No, I’m amazing. One day you’ll realize
that.” Pressing his lips to mine, he took my mouth in a swift, but
passionate kiss. His subsequent smile made my breath catch. “I feel
like a
man
, Coop, like a fucking god. I’ve just created
life. There’s a part of me growing in you. Let me celebrate this.
Please.”

My God. How could I deny him? “Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Go ahea—” Gasping as Tate swept me off my
feet, I clung to his arms. “What’re you doing? Put me down!”

“You said I could tell.”

“You can. I’ll just wait here. Now put me
down.”

“Come on, Coop. I told you, we’re doing this
together.” Tilting forward, he edged me closer to the door. “Get
that for me, will you?”

“No.”

“I’ll kick it open.”

“No you wo—” He would, and did. The door
flew open and rebounded. Tate stuck his foot out to catch it.
“Insane! You’re completely insane!”

“Coop and I are having a baby!” he crowed.
Stepping through the door, he smacked my head on the jamb.
Fortunate for him, he looked properly shocked over his blunder.
“Damn, sorry, babe.”

I just rolled my eyes and rubbed my head.
“Lunatic.”

“We’re pregnant! Well, Coop’s pregnant. But
I’m the daddy.”

“Well you didn’t waste any time,” Jake
observed. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Tate dropped me back to my feet and returned
Jake’s shoulder hug and fist bump. By the bar, I heard a sharp pop
and something struck me square on the forehead. A cork, I presumed.
My hand flew to my face, rubbing the place of impact. That was
going to leave a mark.

“Sorry Coop!” Shane said contritely. Bubbly
rolled down over his fingers and onto the carpet. Not one to waste
alcohol, he put the rim to his mouth and drank from the bottle.

“Jesus Christ, Coop!” Tate exclaimed. Taking
my face between his hands, he zeroed in on the bright red welt on
my forehead. “You alright?”

“Wonderful.”

“That was priceless,” Carter said, snapping
a picture.

“Don’t you dare post that!” I warned. “This
doesn’t leave this bus!”

“God, Coop, take a joke. That was seriously
hilarious.”

“I’m not talking about the stupid cork,” I
said, rubbing my forehead. “I’m talking about being pregnant, you
moron! You can’t tell anyone yet.”

“Too late.”

“Carter!” For the second time in my life, I
actually stomped my foot. “How could you!”

“What?” Carter exclaimed. “What’s the big
deal?”

“This is not the way I want my parents to
find out!”

“How was I supposed to know it was a big
secret?”

“You. Ask. First.” Walking up to Carter, I
held out my hand. “Just like this: May I please see your phone,
Carter?”

Warily, Carter covered his testicles and
handed me his phone. As tempting as it was, I had no intention to
knee him in the groin.

“See how easy that was?” Swiping the screen,
I opened to his last post. He hadn’t posted just a picture. No,
he’d recorded the whole event, from Tate conking my head on the
doorjamb, to Shane pegging me with the champagne cork. Just above
the video, I read the title to his post.

“Looks like the wedding night was
productive.”

I seriously hated Carter Strickland and his
stupid phone.

Ambling to the window, I cranked it open and
drew a long breath of air. Then threw Carter’s phone out the
window. The small thump thump as the tire ran it over was
gratifying.

“My phone!” Carter bellowed, jumping off the
sofa. “You crazy bitch! What the hell did you do that for?”

“Because,” I hissed, “it takes a lot for me
to hate a person, Carter, but you make it really damn easy!” In a
gross display of vulnerability, I burst into tears and rushed to my
room.

Ok, so I’d cracked. It wasn’t as if I didn’t
have the justification. In the past month, my life had been turned
completely upside down. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any
worse, it did. Really. How much was a person supposed to endure
before they crumbled?

I was pregnant. Contrary to Tate’s naïve
perceptions, raising a child wasn’t all coddling and cooing. It was
hard, messy and usually exhausting work. It didn’t end at five
o’clock.

It
never
ended.

If they grew hungry, they looked to mom.

If their diaper was wet, they looked to
mom.

If they grew ill, they vomited on mom.

I’m not saying it was all bad. I loved Levy
with all my heart. He was a sweet, beautiful affectionate little
boy. I wouldn’t trade him for the world. I know, because I’d made
that choice.

Did I regret that choice? No. Never.

Did I lament over the independence I once
had? All the time.

And it left me drowning in guilt every time,
like somehow I was laying blame on Levy for my troubles. I hated
that feeling. It made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to hold him
close to my heart and bathe him in my love until all of those
feelings faded away.

“Momma?” Levy’s tiny voice whispered through
the thin door, as if he heard my thoughts. He accompanied this with
a light rap of his knuckles against the wood.

“Tell her that you want to come in,” Tate
instructed in a whisper.

“Momma? I come in?”

“Say please,” Tate added.

“Pwease.”

Sliding off the bed, I opened the door. I
hadn’t locked it, but I supposed Tate was being considerate of my
mood.

Freshly woken, Levy rubbed his eyes. Without
hesitation, he ditched Tate and reached for me. “I waked up.”

“I see that. You also need your diaper
changed.” It was saturated. Heavy. It couldn’t have been
comfortable. Still, changing it was a chore that Levy and I both
detested.

“No, I don’t want it.”

“We’ll sing. Do you want to sing?”

“No.”

“Ok,” I said, laying him on the bed. Before
he could roll away, I tugged his shorts off. “Then how bout we
count numbers….”

“No.” Making his temper known, he smacked my
face as I bent to pull his diaper out from under him, and then
continued with a full-blown tantrum. Kicking. Screaming. Crying. He
was tired and irritable and it was unlike him to act up to that
degree, so it caught me off guard.

“Hey!” Tate shouted, starling the both of
us. Levy’s fight bled right out of him. Tate actually looked
surprised himself. He looked to me for a rebuttal over his
intervention, or perhaps a little direction. I shrugged. Have at
it. If he was determined to play a role, so be it. I was curious to
see how he would fare. Steeling himself, Tate turned his attention
back to Levy.

“You want your bottom spanked?” Levy’s
answer was a snivel and a pout. His neck sank into his shoulders as
if he were trying to pull his head into his shell. “Then no
hitting. Next time I see you hit your momma, that’s what I’m gonna
do. You feel me?”

Admonition dealt, I finished
changing Levy’
s diaper. Joy of joys. Some
days, I thought it as the only reason for my existence. At least he
yielded this time and lay still for me.

Lifting him off the mattress, I hugged him
tight, felt his breathing quiet. It was like saying, “Yes, you were
bad, but I still love you.” Unlike Marshall, I didn’t think the
silent treatment would be appropriate in this situation. Levy was
only two. Likely, Tate’s intervention was enough to stick with him
for a while. Heading for the door, I pressed a kiss to his
head.

“Are you hungry? Want some cereal?”

“I can get it for him,” Tate offered, taking
Levy from me. Levy sculpted to his side, resting his head on Tate’s
shoulder, heavy-eyed and understandably compliant. “What do you
say, Mini Cooper—Cocoa Puffs or Cheerios?”

“Fwoot woops.”

“No Cocoa Puffs? Everybody’s cuckoo for
Cocoa Puffs.”

“Fwoot woops.”

“I hate to break it to you, kid, but there’s
no fruit in them, and they’re all the same flavor. Red, yellow,
green, it doesn’t make a difference. That’s why they’re spelled
with too Os. There’s no real fruit involved.”

While Tate went to make Levy his breakfast,
I pulled my laptop from my bag and plopped down on the bed to check
my emails. It would keep me from having to face Carter for a little
while. I was having serious second thoughts about having joined
Tate on the road.

Yet, I didn’t want to go home, either.

At this point, I didn’t know what to say to
anyone. Even after sleeping the night on it, I had no answers. I’m
sure Marshall had told them that I knew about their duplicity, but
I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to react. Did I have a right to be
mad? Was I supposed to be grateful? Or was I better off acting like
Marshall hadn’t told me a thing?

“That’s some serious thinking going on,”
Tate observed, sprawling out on the bed next to me. “Am I part of
it?”

Reluctant to answer that, I turned my
attention back to the screen, hoping to distract myself from my
problems. I didn’t want to argue or whine and make myself more of a
nuisance than I already was. I promised myself I wouldn’t come
between him and his band.

“Cooper,” Tate pressed, taking the laptop
from me. “Talk to me.”

“It’s fine, Tate. I’m fine.” As I reached
for my laptop, Tate raised his hand, blocking me. My hand went up;
his hand went up. Mine went down; his went down. “Come on. I have
work to do.” A lie on my part. I’d stayed up late and answered
emails while Tate was on stage. With the time difference, I was
able to communicate with my vendors real time.

“Just a minute. I’m trying to do something.”
A few clicks and he opened Hautboy’s fan page. Another click and
Carter’s post disappeared. “There. Deleted. Ok?”

Wonderful. Except for the handful of
views.

Tate passed my laptop back to me. I opened
the screen and returned to my pretenses. For a measure of time, we
sat in silence, with only the sound of my fingers tapping the
keyboard and the hum of the radials against the blacktop. I
answered a few stray emails and checked my calendar. When I could
procrastinate no longer, I clicked the screen closed.