Page 155 of Forbidden Lyrics

This is so hard.

“How’s Gibson doing?” she asks. “He hasn’t come to see her––”

“He doesn’t want to get attached. But if the paternity results are positive, I’m pretty sure he’ll ask the hospital for a second room until she comes home.”

“And the tour?”

I push myself up and shake off the agonizing worry gnawing at my lower gut. “Organized Chaos had to find a replacement.”

“That sucks, Dove––”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. I screwed everything up.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” I scold, fidgeting with the yellow polka dot hand towel next to the kitchen sink. “When the lead singer heard about our situation, he reached out to Gibbs and mentioned another opportunity.”

“What kind of opportunity?”

“One that involves more travel. Gibson has already talked to the rest of the guys about it. He had to be vague about the current situation because they know Milo, and we still don’t know the results yet, but they’re being pretty patient. Gibbs told Stoker and Phoenix that he’ll have an answer by the end of the week about whether or not he can fill Fender’s place until Fen gets out of rehab. But right now, we’re stuck in pause mode, so…”

“I get it,” she returns. “The hospital is getting anxious about the birth certificate too. I guess we’ll have to play it by ear.”

“I guess so. I’m meeting Gibbs at his house right now, though, so I have to go. Can I come by and hold Peanut again later tonight?”

“Sure thing. She misses Auntie.”

“And I miss her,” I admit. “I gotta soak up as many snuggles as I can just in case I have to leave for a bit. Have you thought of a name yet?”

“No.” She groans. “I have no idea, Dove. Seriously.”

“What’s holding you back?”

“Don’t hate me, but the last name is killing me. Should I choose Walker? Or do I go with Hayes or Anders? I don’t know?”

With a grimace, I shift my phone to my other ear and rest my hip against the counter. “Crap. I didn’t even think about that.”

“See? Some first names fit with certain last names better than others. And then as soon as I let myself go down that road, I remind myself that I’m most definitely overthinking it, and I end up getting a naming block that leaves me worthless.”

“You’re not worthless,” I laugh before seeing the time on the microwave. Pushing myself away from the counter, I grab my purse before adding, “But you are kind of adorable for putting so much thought into it.”

“She’s stuck with it forever, Dove. For-e-ver. That’s a long time! And I’ll need a good nickname to go with it, and don’t even get me started on the spelling. Do you know there’s like ten ways to spell Kelsie?”

“Are you thinking of naming her Kelsie?” I ask.

“No, but that’s beside the point. There’s i-e, and e-y, and e-a, and I saw one with a T in there somewhere. Who spells Kelsie with a T?”

“I have no idea, but you’re kind of killing me with this,” I laugh. Again. And it feels good. Foreign, almost. But good. “Have you, uh, called Mom or Dad and asked their opinion?”

“Nope.” She sobers. “And I don’t plan on it, so don’t get any ideas. They disowned me, Dove. You don’t exactly come back from that.”

“Good point,” I agree, albeit grudgingly. They’re our parents, though. Doesn’t Madelyn want them to know their granddaughter? Then again, they started it. They kicked her out, called her every name in the book, and reminded her to never call them again.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she’s keeping her distance. I mean, I am too, but it’s different. I don’t have any major life-changing events that I’m keeping from them. Well, other than possibly touring the country with a band. But still.

“Hey. Gibson’s calling,” she tells me.

I clear my throat. “Okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll talk to you later.”

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