Page 81 of Fame And Secrets

“Julian? Are you in there?”

Glancing up, I forced my eyes to focus. She stared at me with a smile plastered across her face. I tilted my head. “Hmmm?”

“I asked you if you were all right.”

I brushed a piece of hair across her face that’d fallen in her eyes. “Your hair is beautiful.”

“My hair?” She leaned over and sniffed me. “Are you drunk?”

I couldn’t turn my eyes away from her hair. It made me forget the trouble that brewed beneath the surface. “No, I’m not drunk. She has your hair. It’s dark, just like yours.”

She squinted as her eyes glanced down at her empty arms. “She needs a name.”

Our earlier name argument resurfaced, and I laughed. “Cletus?”

“Be serious.” She punched me in the chest and rolled her eyes.

I shrugged. “Cletoria?”

“The fuck?” Her mouth dropped open. “Cletoria Bale? Are you kidding me?”

“Why not? It sounds like it belongs to a strong girl.”

“It sounds like it belongs on a vagina.” She sighed and pressed the heels of her palms into her forehead. “This kid will be Baby Girl Bale until college.”

Okay, Plan B.

“What about Iris?” I had a lot of thinking time on the ride from Portland to LA. We still hadn’t picked names, and I knew it wouldn’t be a priority on Phoebe’s mind during labor. As a song writer, I never put words together haphazardly. They needed to mean something. I racked my brain for a girl’s name and kept coming back to one thought.

Iris Festival.

Iris bouquet.

Iris lyrics.

Iris.

After explaining my reasoning to her, I knew our daughter had a name when a smile broke out across her face.

“What about a middle name?” she asked, tilting her chin.

“Got that covered too. I like themes, it’s the musician in me. Plus, I had an idea that day I found you and Ty at the pier.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Your mother’s name was Rose, right?” I waited for a reaction. As her tears fell, I knew there’d be no more discussion. I smiled to myself.

Welcome to the world, Iris Rose Bale.

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