Page 153 of Forbidden Lyrics

Dove

The baby makes it sixteen hours.

Sixteen hours in the womb before demanding to make her debut. I’m drained––both emotionally and physically. But she’s beautiful. And tiny. Three pounds and nine ounces, to be exact. Her lungs aren’t fully developed, but she’s handling her oxygen tube like a champ. The nurses have announced her as the happiest baby in the NICU, too. Pretty sure they’re all enamored with her like we are. Her strawberry hair looks just like her mama’s baby pictures, and those dimples? Curse those dimples. They’re going to get her out of far too much trouble. I have no doubt.

I’m in love with her instantly.

As for the paternity test, it was surprisingly easy. A cotton swab along the inside of her cheek, and now it’s off to the lab, ready to be tested and compared to Gibson’s DNA. The company informed us that we should know the results in two to five days. Which means we’re waiting, and it feels like a lifetime.

“Do you want to go see her again?” I ask Gibson in the waiting room at the hospital. He hasn’t left my side since yesterday and looks as exhausted as I feel.

He shakes his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while giving the NICU’s entrance his back. “If she isn’t mine…” He scrapes his calloused hand across his face. “I don’t want to get attached yet.”

My heart cracks at the pain in his voice.

I’d been so selfish, only considering how messed up the situation is for me without considering how confusing it must be for Gibson. Like Shrodinger’s cat, two potential futures are laid in front of him. One where he’s a father. And the other where he’s…not.

“You okay?” I ask for what feels like the thousandth time since we brought Maddie to the hospital.

He shakes his head again, then sniffs and looks over at the doors that lead to the NICU. Doors we exited less than five minutes ago when he met Maddie’s baby for the first time. He refused to hold her. But he held her hand. And he rubbed his thumb along her tiny knuckles as she grabbed onto his index finger like he was her rock. Her protector.

“What are you thinking about?” I'm unsure of what to do or how to act. It’s not like there’s a manual for these situations. I’m flying blind, and it’s killing me.

Yes, Peanut is going to be okay, and Maddie is…Maddie. Physically, she’s fine. But emotionally? Well, she’ll figure it out because that’s what she always does.

But Gibson? Will he be okay?

I have no idea.

“What if she isn’t mine?” he rasps after a few seconds, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy. “How can I already love her, and I haven’t even held her? I didn’t want to be a dad. And now, the thought of leaving her…” An anguished sigh escapes him before he takes an unsteady step toward the exit. “Come on. Let’s go to the car. I need to get out of here.”

He grabs my hand, tangling our fingers together before rushing out the door like a bat out of Hell.

“It’s going to be okay,” I remind him, our feet slapping against the damp pavement as I rush to keep up with him.

He stays silent but opens the passenger door of his car and ushers me inside before closing it and rounding the front.

Once he’s behind the wheel, he doesn’t start the car and drops his chin to his chest.

“Tell me how I can help,” I whisper, desperate to take an ounce of agony that’s radiating from him.

“Do you want kids?”

My eyelids flutter as I register his words, but other than that, I don’t move a muscle. I’m too shocked. The rockstar doesn’t exactly scream father material, but deep down, I know he’d be an incredible one. Even Maddie could see how amazing he’d be. Honestly, I’ve already seen it firsthand in the way he looked over his shoulder as we left the hospital. The way his thoughts are already focused solely on the tiny human who may or may not belong to him.

As for me? The answer is simple.

“Yes. Maybe not when I’m twenty-two,” I clarify with a shy smile, “but yes. Definitely.” I bite my lip to keep from asking him the same question, knowing it’ll hit too close to home right now. The fact he brought parenthood up in the first place is surprising enough.

He returns my smile with one of his own, but it’s pained and desperate. “Promise me that one day, no matter what, we can make our own kids. Our own family. And I won’t have to hold back from loving them. I won’t have to wait outside the delivery room, wondering if I’m gonna be a dad or not. I won’t have to think about split custody and where to fit a crib at my place. We’ll have a house. And a nursery. And a fucking rocking chair.”

With a light laugh, I lean over the center console and press a kiss to his unshaven cheek. “You’re really set on the whole rocking chair thing?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” I grin like a loon. “That actually sounds pretty perfect to me.”

His surprised gaze meets mine. “Yeah?”

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