We all rose, and Mom took my hand, her gaze searching as I expelled a loud breath. “You okay?”
Okay was the last thing I felt. But with my family surrounding me, something told me I was going to be, so I nodded.
“Let’s find out what you got in there,” Hendrix said, his arm looping around my shoulders as we headed down the hall.
“Will your landlord let us paint the room blue? You really should just move back home.” Mom dunked a fry into her ketchup. “Think of how gorgeous Hendrix’s room would look as a nursery again.” A wistful smile played on her lips.
Dad grinned. “What a time warp that’d be.”
“Don’t worry about how I’d feel or anything.” Hendrix mock pouted.
I bumped him. “It’s okay. I’m staying here. You know, where I have a job, school, and Adela. It’ll work out.”
“There are only three rooms, though. Adela won’t mind you using the other as a nursery?” Mom asked.
I laughed. “She’s already dumping boxes of diapers in there every time she gets paid.”
Something moved across Hendrix’s face, but he was quick to wipe it away. “Who’s getting the crib?”
“I will,” I said. “They’re expensive. I’m not expecting anyone to foot the bill.”
“No.” Dad’s voice was firm. “You’ll take the help we give you. This is our first grandchild, not charity.”
I swallowed thickly, nodding at him and drinking my water.
Mom patted my hair. “You need to let us spoil him, or I’ll be annoyed. Annoyed and spoiling him anyway.”
I set my water down, then fanned my face. “Stop, hormones. God.”
Everyone returned to their food, and Adela just about burst my eardrum when I answered her call and told her I was having a boy. “Jesus.”
“Sorry, but oh my God.” She panted, sounding as if she was running. “This is so perfect. Okay, gotta go. Things to do.”
“Like what?” I asked cautiously.
“Oh, you know. Just maxing out my credit card in Target.”
I rolled my eyes, then closed them over the threat of gratitude. “Love you.”
“Love you more.” She hung up, and I read a text from Aiden that’d come through twenty minutes earlier.
Prince: What’s the verdict, Petal??
Me: boy. :)
Bubbles danced as he tapped out a response, then disappeared. It happened four times before he finally responded.
Prince: I’m fucking thrilled for you.
“You could hear her scream from the next state,” Hendrix drawled, fingers tapping over his phone. “The guys say congrats.”
Not sure what to make of Aiden’s text, I placed my phone back inside my purse. Then I mentally slapped myself. It wasn’t his baby, and I was lucky he still wanted anything to do with me. “She’s already on her way to the mall. And tell them I said thanks.”
Mom and Dad laughed, and after a few beats, I let myself laugh too.
My chest throbbed, and I sighed out a stuttering exhale.
Hendrix watched me, slipping his phone away. I wrangled my face into something passable, then directed my gaze to the rain-soaked street outside the café.
“Progress with the album?” Mom asked.
“Good, it’s, um… well, it took a bit to wade through, but it’s working out now.”
“Sounding good, I’ll bet.”
Hendrix drummed on the tabletop. “It’s coming together, yeah.”
Hearing the unease in his voice, I turned to study his blank features. “What happened?”
Dad cleared his throat. “They’ve changed course.”
Slowly, I blinked, my attention still fixed on Hendrix as he struggled to look at me. “What do you mean?” I hadn’t meant for it to sound accusatory, but nonetheless, it happened.
Hendrix’s shoulders drooped. “We didn’t have enough to finish without him. And Jack said—” A look at Mom had Hendrix shutting up.
“Go on,” I urged. “Jack said what?”
Mom made a whining sound.
My heart and voice hardened. “Just tell me.”
Hendrix didn’t balk at my demand. He merely slouched back in his seat, defeated. “Jack said Everett has made some new agreement with him. He’s not on the album. Yes, his lyrics are, but he wanted off.” He spread his hands. “So instead of making us repay the advances, Jack was willing to give me a shot as lead vocalist. We should be able to wrap it by Thanksgiving.”
A screech sounded as I pushed my chair back, but I didn’t stand, only concentrated on trying to breathe. “He spoke to Jack.” Of course, he did, a sinister voice said. Music first, Stevie last. “Jack knows where he is?”
“If he does, he’s not talking. All we know is that Everett paid some of his advance back, and he’s signed over the music to us.”