Page 2 of Finding Home

My heart thumping wildly, I tap out an email directly to Claudia Beaumont.

Hey Claudia,

It’s C-Bomb. Sorry to come at you out of the blue, but I got some bad news recently about my mother’s health. She’s got late-stage cancer, and the doc says the odds aren’t good she’ll make it more than a year. She’s starting chemo tomorrow, and we’re hoping she’ll beat this thing or at least buy herself more time, but these things are unpredictable.

In light of this new circumstance, I’m hoping to introduce the baby to my mother and sister in LA, as soon as possible. I know this is a one-eighty from what we agreed upon, but I’m hoping you’ll have mercy on me. Of course, I’ll fly you and the baby to LA and put you up for as long as you can stay. I’ll pay for a luxury hotel or you can stay at my place. I live in Santa Monica, right on the beach, in a big house with plenty of room.

If the visit goes well, maybe we can talk about amending our contract to include regular visitation rights for me. I’ve honestly been feeling tons of regret and guilt about?—

I abruptly stop typing. What am I doing? For all I know, the visit might only confirm my initial hunch—that the kid is better off without me. With a sigh, I delete that last, incomplete paragraph and begin typing again.

To be clear, I’m not trying to change our financial agreement. No matter what happens, that thirty grand will always hit your bank account every month until our kid turns eighteen. I’m only asking you to have mercy on me in the coming months. My mother is the best person I know, and she sacrificed everything for my sister and me, so I want to give her the best gift imaginable before she passes. My mother’s the one who scraped together her pennies to buy me my first drum kit, Claudia. Shebelieved in me, when nobody else did. I’m living my dreams now, because of her.

I stop typing again. Is that accurate? Am I really living my dreams?

As a musician, I am. Sure.

But in my personal life?

No, not at all.

With a long exhale, I delete that last sentence and begin again.

Time isn’t on my side here, so I’m pleading with you to say yes, as soon as possible. Please, Claudia. Do this favor for me and I’ll be eternally grateful.

Thanks in advance,

C-Bomb

Chapter 2

Aubrey

Present day, Seattle

Iwake up to my alarm to find two-year-old Raine snuggled up against me, fast asleep. That’s weird. Like clockwork, Claudia always grabs her baby girl out of my bed when she gets home from the hospital. That’s been our deal, ever since I showed up on Claudia’s doorstep over a year-and-a-half ago, feeling broken-hearted and bruised after my breakup with Trent: Claudia takes care of Raine, once she gets home from work in the wee hours, so I can get up early and head off to work in time for the breakfast rush.

With a yawn, I kiss the top of Raine’s soft, blonde curls and grab my phone from the nightstand. Claudia hasn’t dated since she broke up with Ricky about a year ago, but if that cute ER doctor she’s been drooling over finally made his move, I bet she went for it. If that happened,though, she’d surely text me to let me know the exciting news and also that she might not be home at the usual time.

Nope.

I’ve got nothing from Claudia.

Did she feel sick when she got home, and now she’s fast asleep on the cool tile floor of the bathroom? A tad worried, I slide out of bed, taking care not to wake the cling-on sleeping next to me, and tiptoe out of my bedroom. But there’s no Claudia in the bathroom as I pass by. Also, no Claudia in her bedroom. In fact, her bed is still neatly made.

My stomach tightens with concern, but I tell myself not to freak out—that I’ll surely find Claudia asleep on the couch. Claudia is sober these days—she went to rehab the minute she found out she was pregnant—so I wouldn’t normally jump straight to thinking Claudia might have gotten shitfaced and passed out on the couch. But in this moment, my brain can’t come up with any other logical explanations besides that cute ER doc or Claudia falling off the wagon.

My pulse pounding, I stride into the living room, but Claudia’s nowhere to be found. Not only that, her car keys aren’t in the dish by the door; her purse isn’t sitting on the kitchen counter; and there’s no jacket slung haphazardly onto the back of the blue chair.

Okay, I’m officially freaking out.

I look at the time on my phone.

5:12.

Claudia knows I’ve got to be at the restaurant at six, and that it takes me sixteen to eighteen minutes to walk there, depending on lights and weather. She’d never make me late for work, but I suppose there’s still twenty-five minutes for Claudia to walk through that door withoutdoing that.

Suddenly, the location app on my phone pops into my head. I never think to look at it, since Claudia’s always at work or here, and my parents are always in their usual places in Prairie Springs. But I’m definitely thinking about it now.

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