Page 208 of Perfect Pitch

She’s not going anywhere, not if the way she snuggles in and goes to sleep is anything to go by.

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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO

DJ Kensington was spotted with an unknown hunk on the street outside her mother’s boyfriend’s place. For those of you living in a cave, that’s Beckett Miller.

We can only assume they’re in love by the way he was memorizing her face.

Therefore, DJ Kensington wins our #luckybitch award of the week.

—Sexy&Social, All the Scandal You Can Handle

I press a kiss against the top of her hair, inhaling her scent. I leave my lips against her unbraided hair and murmur, “I’ve missed everything about you.”

Long after I crawl into bed with her, and we enjoy the simple pleasure of holding one another, I broach a sensitive subject. “Will you tell me everything?”

Austyn’s eyes flick up to mine. “Are you sure you want to know?”

I lean over and brush my lips against hers before giving her the truth. “No, but I need to know. I don’t want to hurt you inadvertently.”

Her eyes drift close before she lays her head on my chest. I slide my hand to curl around the back of her neck feeling more than I’ve felt in ages. I force the question from my mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me about the baby when you first found out?”

Agony moves across Austyn’s exquisite face. “I tried.”

My brow furrows. “When?”

The pain in my chest increases exponentially when she quotes, “‘No human being is so bad as to be beyond...’”

“Redemption,” I finish Gandhi’s words as well as name the end of us as we were. My arms pull her closer into my body, if that’s even possible. I bury my face in her neck and breathe her in even as tears leak from my eyes.

“Right before I left to go on tour and you were... otherwise engaged.”

“You know now what was happening.”

The strands of her hair brush against the palm of my hand. “I do. Now. I just wish I knew then.”

“Me too.” It was a pivotal moment that destroyed more than her trust in me. It ultimately led to a breakdown of communication that led to her dealing with the death of our child on her own. I might have clued in on her father’s stalker, but I exposed Austyn to something worse.

“Will it hurt you if I ask more questions?”

“From anyone else but you, yes.”

“Did you have morning sickness?”

“What I now know was morning sickness, yes. God, it was awful. I thought it was some fish we ate.”

I grin in the moonlight recalling how many times I puked alongside her. “That bad?”

“Worse than you remember. Do you know what it feels like to puke with no food in your stomach.”

“Oh yeah,” I agree readily.

“Days of that,” she tells me. Then the sadness bleeds through. “They say the more morning sickness you have, the stronger a baby is.”

I squeeze her. “Who knew?”

“Mama, Charlie, Fallon. I found out later my father.”

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