I watched Hendrix’s booted feet shift over the cracked tiled floor. “He basically sold his songs to us.”
I couldn’t fucking breathe. “And he just let Jack do that? That’s his music, Hendrix. He wrote most of that album.” God knows why I was still defending him, why I cared when just the thought of him made me want to slam my head against the table. “It’s his.”
Hendrix raised his hands. “Hey, cool it. This was Everett’s decision, and I imagine he’ll get paid future royalties for the music, so don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried. I…” I stopped, my hands sinking into my hair and tugging. “Ugh.” Jack had spoken to him. He’d gotten a phone call.
I was carrying his baby, and all I’d gotten was a useless four-leaf clover.
Mom was in front of me, helping me up. “Let’s get you home.”
I let her, and even though I didn’t need it, I was grateful for the touch. The support. I needed something to keep me tethered to the here and now, so as to not lose my damn mind in the middle of the day, in the middle of a café, surrounded by the lunch crowd.
My purple maxi dress fluttered around my legs, and I placed a hand over my stomach as Dad grabbed my purse.
And then I felt it. Through the barrage of feelings assaulting me all at once, I felt it. “It wasn’t gas,” I said aloud.
Hendrix coughed out a laugh. “What?”
I’d called Mom earlier that week, unsure whether the baby was moving or not. A Google search had said it could be gas while some forums disputed it was, in fact, the baby moving.
Mom’s eyes were bright with unfettered delight crawling over her face as her hands came to my stomach, and she felt it too.
They all crowded me, and everything melted away. Hands pressed against the tiny flitting movement on the left side of my stomach.
“Holy shit,” Hendrix said.
Tears of joy trailed down my face, joining the smile that dug deep into my cheeks.
Holy shit was right.
“This seems kind of big.” I folded the romper with elephants printed on it.
Adela plucked the tags off some blankets. “Babies don’t stay tiny for very long.”
Sadness swamped me, the little nudges in my belly trying to chase it away.
“You’ve been doing better,” she said, taking a seat beside me on the floor of our spare room. Which would soon house more than a chest of drawers, diapers, and piles of baby clothes. “What’s up?”
“Just…” How much was he going to miss? I was sad, not for myself, but for him. Our baby.
Adela made a sound, understanding. “That’s not your burden to bear. You didn’t tell him to leave; that was all on him.”
“Where do you think he is?” I’d pondered that, my imagination trying to place him in various places. But knowing what he’d been like every other time he’d left me behind, I shut the curious quest down.
“Busking his way through the South? Who knows.” She sighed. “Sometimes…”
When she trailed off, biting her lip, I frowned. “Sometimes what?”
Her hands smoothed over the blue and green floral blanket on her lap. “I sometimes wonder about you and Everett; were you ever truly meant to be?” My back stiffened, but she continued with a nostalgic smile. “But then I remember the way he looked at you, especially since he moved here, like you were the very air he needed to breathe, and he didn’t have enough. Then I’ll wonder how he could hurt you. If he looked at you like that, how he could continue to put his own needs first?”
The desire to defend him had faded. “I know.”
“Either way”—she moved her hand to my stomach, smiling down at it—“this baby was born from love. It will know only love. And that’s enough. It’s always enough.”
“Don’t make me cry, or I’ll nipple cripple you.”
She laughed, then nodded, her eyes wet as she patted my cheek. “You’re going to be just fine, Mama. You’ll see.”
Three sharp knocks echoed from the door, and I made to get up, but naturally, in my state, Adela beat me to it.
A minute later, Aiden appeared in the doorway, carrying two milkshakes. Adela reached around him, snatching one and grinning, then bounded out of sight.
Aiden blinked, then shook his head. It tilted when he studied me, his mouth curving.
He’d been over a few times since my scan last month, and I hated seeing him. Almost as much as I loved having him near me. Every lingering look and