Page 151 of Forbidden Lyrics

“I was mad because I felt guilty. That I’d screwed up and that I couldn’t handle the consequences on my own. I was scared, Dove. But you swooped in and saved the day.”

“And I’d do it again,” I argue. “Mads––”

“I know you would. That’s why you’re here. At this hospital. Because you do swoop in. You do save the day. And even though I’m more grateful than I can ever explain, I need you to go so that I can do this on my own.”

I shake my head. “I’m not going to leave you––”

“I need you to. After you meet her––or him––I need you to go. Not forever or anything. Just for the tour. I want you to have fun. I want you to live life instead of being tied down to consequences that were never yours to handle. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, my indecision wearing on me, I take in her pleading gaze and tuck my hair behind my ear.

She can’t ask that of me right now. Not when everything is precarious. Not when we’re walking a tightrope, and there are so many unknowns.

“What do you think the gender is?” I deflect, desperate to change the subject.

With her hand pressed to her swollen belly, she smiles. And it’s the first peaceful one I’ve seen in months. “I see what you did there. We can talk about the tour later. But as for the gender…I have no idea. I know some people say that a mom has some crazy sixth sense that lets them know, but honestly? I’m clueless.”

“Are you hoping for one or the other?”

She shakes her head. “No. I only want a healthy baby. Which is ironic when I think about how close I was to having an abortion. But the thought of not meeting this little soul…” She sniffs, wiping under her eyes. “I already love her… Or him,” she adds with a light laugh.

The sound is like a balm to the constant ache in my chest ever since I found her on the floor in her room, shattered glass surrounding her. I’m pretty sure I’d never been more terrified in my entire life.

Please let everything turn out okay.

I smile back at her before asking, “Why didn’t you ever find out the gender?”

“Honestly?”

I nod.

“I felt like if I knew the gender, it would make the baby’s existence real. And I didn’t want it to be real. Not at first.”

“And now?”

She looks up at me and takes another slow, unsteady breath. “Now, I’m terrified. I’m not ready. But I also can’t wait to hold him. Or her.”

“Do you have any names picked out?”

Again, she shakes her head and rubs her hand over her belly, making the light blue fabric of her hospital gown bunch up before she smooths it out again.

“Nope,” she answers. “Are you and Gibbs going to be okay?”

“I hope so. I think so. I love him. But I’m also terrified of what the paternity results are going to be.”

She cringes. “You and me both.”

“Do you want him to be the father?” I ask, my chest tightening. “If I wasn’t in love with him. If I wasn’t in the picture. Would you want him to be the dad?”

Her eyes widen in surprise before she takes a few seconds to really consider my question.

With a sad smile, she holds my gaze. “Gibson will be a great father one day. I have no doubt in my mind that he would step up and do everything in his power to make the best life for his sons and daughters. But, no. I don’t want to be tied down to anyone who doesn’t love me. I don’t want to have to worry about custody, and child support, and every other messy consequence that comes along with sharing a child when the parents don’t love each other. Especially if it hurts the one person I can rely on.” She gives me a watery smile before sobering. “Promise me that you won’t let me stand in the way of your happiness.”

“Mads––”

“I’m serious, Dove.”

“That wasn’t the deal––”

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