Page 19 of Oops Baby for the Rockstar
My eyes prickle as I stare—atTamsin, in holey jeans and a baggy black t-shirt, casually pushing a silver sound case over the grass toward the trucks like she’s a shopper pushing a cart at Costco. Her dark hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, and it swishes behind her as she walks. She’s frowning to herself, lost in thought.
“I’ve been telling her to quit it with the heavy stuff,” Patty says, “what with the pregnancy and all, but she won’t listen. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”
I barely hear her. My pulse is thudding too loud in my ears.
I take off running.
Eight
Tamsin
Athousand thoughts buzz around my skull as I help push case after case over to the open trucks.
Stuff like pregnancy logistics, and how does child support work, and where can I make a prenatal doctor’s appointment while on tour? How much do nappies cost? What foods shouldn’t I eat for the next six months? How long can I keep working, and what happens when I can’t anymore? Will they kick me off the crew bus? I do not want to go back to that trailer in the hills.
Stuff like: where is Jett, and has he read my letter yet? What does he think about it? Is he mad at me for getting pregnant, for being so careless on my first time? And then: if heismad at me for that, he’s a giant hypocrite. There were two of us in that hotel room; two of us getting swept away by the moment. We’re both the architects of this little predicament.
Stuff like: does Jett Santana evenwantto be a dad? Would he ever settle down; tone down the rock star lifestyle? Would hecome to peewee baseball games or ballet recitals? Can I really do this all alone if not? Would I be enough?
Even stuff like: where is the nearest place I can track down an egg mayo sandwich, and will they be open this late at night?
A figure barrels out of the darkness, grabbing my flight case from the other side and planting themselves in the way. I push feebly against their bulk, but it’s like a kitten nudging at a panther.
“Hey!”
Then my brain catches up with my eyes. My heart stutters inside my chest, racing faster and faster until I feel like I’m gonna levitate right off this grass and zoom away toward the heavens.
“Tamsin,” Jett says, his voice low and intimate. Even just the way he says my name feels like a caress. The rock star is staring at me, dark eyes fierce in the moonlight, but he doesn’t look mad. Doesn’t look like he’s about to yell or rage or demand a paternity test. He lookselated.“There you are.”
My lips are numb as I press them together. My palms are damp inside my baggy work gloves.
“Did… did you read my letter?”
Jett nods slowly, still gazing hungrily at me. “I did.”
I blow out a breath. “So you know everything now.”
Jett raises one thick eyebrow. “Not everything, apparently. You didn’t mention that you’re working on the Wishbone crew.”
Ah. Yeah. That was one last secret, one last piece of the puzzle that I held back, because I wasn’t sure how Jett would take the oops-baby news. And what if he got mad and tossed me off the tour altogether, and I didn’t have anywhere to live or any more cash coming in?
I need to be smart. I’m protecting two of us now.
Plus I wanted an excuse to stay close. To keep Jett Santana, the world famous rock star, in my orbit. Sue me.
“I’m sorry,” I say as we gaze into each other’s eyes, because yeah, I should have known better. Shouldn’t have been so paranoid, always bracing for the worst from people, because Jett is not like that. We only spent a few short hours in each other’s company before now, but it was enough. Iknowhim.
Jett scoffs and finally straightens up, letting go of my case. He rounds the side of it and scoops me against his chest, pressing his face against the top of my head. All around us, the crew keep pushing cases toward the trucks, the heavy weights trundling over the grass. There are shouts and slams over by the loading area, and the rhythmic clang of hammers on metal, but the leafy park still smells like fresh earth and wet rocks.
“Don’t be sorry, baby. But don’t hide from me ever again. Christ, I’ve been going mad.”
My fingers curl against the rock star’s chest.
“Me too.”
“I’ve been declaring my love every night like some love-struck asshole.”
“I heard. I’m sorry.”
