41. 41
Delaney’s hand slips easily into mine after two and a half weeks of marriage—and, oh yeah, knowing one another.
I walk through the back gate of my sister’s home with Delaney in one hand and a baby doll that Delaney picked out for Lula in the other. For a girl who doesn’t want to be a mom, she’s got some maternal instincts.
“Ash has a recording appointment for me in L.A. next week,” she says.
I’m thrown. “L.A.?”
”Yeah. I have a label interested in my folk. It”s an indie label. But I”ve listened to their work, and I like it. It”s the route I want to take. After that video went viral, Ash said we needed to move forward and fast while momentum was built. I”ve only got two songs written, but I think they”ll do them justice.”
She’s leaving? I mentally smack myself in the head—to do exactly what she wants to do. This is the plan. The goal.
I nod—I tell myself to do so. “That’s great, Laney.” I bite my tongue and don’t ask if she’ll be back because that might sound like a man a little too attached to his wife. And I am unattached. I’m indifferent. I am not going to miss her at all.
I am also one hundred percent lying to myself.
“When do you go?”
“Three days. I’ll be here for Walt and Cinnamon’s next lesson, though. I wouldn’t miss it.”
I’m grateful for the sidetrack—and I take it. “I think I finally have a name for the place.” We step into the yard and open up the back gate, the grass smooshing beneath our feet. It rained yesterday, making everything green and fresh for Lulabelle’s outdoor birthday party.
Delaney pauses. “Wait. You have? I’ve been waiting!”
I swallow, wanting her approval on this. “Coeur d’Alene Creations Studio.”
Her head tilts, and I can tell she’s thinking as she peers up at me. “I like it. It’s good… I like Miles Bailey Creations Studio better.”
“That feels pompous.”
“It’s not!” She tugs on my hand, and we start our walk again.
We round the house to a parade of pink balloons arched over the high chair where Lula will destroy her first birthday cake. There are tables and chairs, pink streamers hanging from the awning, and stuffed giraffes decorating the entire space. Members of my family and a small handful of Coco and Jude’s friends are scattered about the place.
“What does every musician name their first album?”
My brows lift. “Ah—”
“Self-titled. Always. Well, almost always. This is your first building, Miles. It’s your studio. You’re just getting your name out there—”
“Thanks to you,” I interject. Though, I’m trying to check my pride and just be grateful that I’m finally selling my work.
“Thanks to you,” she says. “You just needed eyes on the prize, Mr. Three-Hundred-Followers. That’s all my posts did. People are finally exposed to your work and, no shocker, they love it.”
I loose my fingers from hers and wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe,” I say as Coco’s adopted mom walks our way.
“Miles,” Heidi Coalfield says. “I haven’t seen you in months.”
I drop my arm from around Delaney and give Heidi a quick embrace. “Heidi, this is Delaney. Laney, this is Heidi—Coco’s mom.”
“Coco said you got married! And so suddenly.” She holds out a palm to Delaney, who shakes the woman’s hand. “She also said your wife is a famous musician,” Heidi whispers, though no doubt Delaney has heard her. “I don’t recognize her though.”
“That’s okay,” I whisper, reaching back for Delaney. Her fingers wrap around mine, and in some strange foreign way, this is natural. It feels natural; it happens naturally. Our lie has become the norm. “Have you seen Alice?”
“She was in the bouncy house,” Heidi says. “I’m sure she’s still there. Here, I’ll take your gift in.” She takes the wrapped doll from my hand and gives Delaney another smile.
“Alice?” Delaney asks.
“Yeah, I just want to check on her. I’m sure she’s good. She’s just been our little star for eight years and today is all about Lula.”
“Maybe that’s good for her.”
“Says the literal superstar.” I perform my best eye roll for her and walk her to the bouncy house. “Shoes off,” I tell her.
“Wait. I’m not going in there.” Delaney shakes her head and drops the hand I hold.
“Sure you are. You are young and healthy and you’ll love it.” I slip off my shoes and tug her toward the entrance.
At the last minute, she tosses her sandals onto the grass and follows in after me.
The bounce house ground is soft and unsteady, like walking on a cloud.
“Hellooooo!” Alice calls, the only person inside this house at the moment. “Uncle Miles came to play!” She hops her way over to me and throws herself into my arms.
With the waves, Delaney is on her backside. “How do you stay standing in this thing?”
“I use ballerina balance. Were you ever a ballerina, Laney?”
Delaney huffs out a breath, trying to stand. “Ah, no. I wasn’t. My mom had me in singing lessons from the get-go. No dance.”
“Well, there you go. There is no hope for you then. I’m sorry to tell you.” Alice gives her a pitying glance.
“Of course there’s hope,” I say, peeling Alice off of me so I can help Delaney. Her fingers grapple for mine, and I pull her to her feet. “There’s always hope.” I return my gaze to Alice. “How’s my girl?”
“I am lovely—only there are really only babies at this party, so who is supposed to play with me in here?”
I tap my chest. “Me, that’s who. I’m glad you’re excited,” I tell her, and I am. She seems good. She’s her happy little self.
“And you were worried,” Delaney says, her hip bumping mine.
“You were worried?” Alice repeats, her head bobbing from Delaney to me.
Delaney’s face pales as if she’s just spilled all the beans—though it isn’t that big of a deal.
“Not really. Maybe a little. I just didn’t want you to feel left out today,” I tell her.
“Oh. Well, Uncle Owen did bring Lula and me a gift. While it is not a necessity—I understand it’s not my birthday—it is much appreciated.” She looks from me to Delaney expectantly.
Of course Owen thought of that.
Alice smiles but still says nothing. She’s waiting.
And I have nothing.
“Ooo,” Delaney yips. “We brought you this.” She holds out the charm around her neck, her lucky tri-colored rainbow attached to the gold chain. “I bought it after our first song hit the top ten. There was a rainbow outside, and I was pretty sure it was there just for us. It’s my good luck charm.”
“Good luck?” Alice says, watching as Delaney unclasps the necklace from around her neck.
My eyes draw there, to every curve, every color, every texture of that soft, slender neckline. And all I can imagine doing is pressing my lips there and testing if it’s really as soft as it looks.
Whoa. I swallow, blink, then cough down the thought—bringing both girl’s attention right to me. “Sorry. Ah—bug, flew right into my mouth,” I mutter.
Delaney giving my niece her personal necklace should not translate into me kissing her neck. Someone has got to knock some sense back into my head. Of this fifty-two-week marriage, we still have forty-nine-and-a-half to go. If I can’t straighten myself out—I’m going to be certifiably insane at the end of those weeks.
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Delaney. You don’t mind giving me all your good luck?”
Delaney holds out the rainbow charm for Alice to see. Gently, she touches it with the tips of her small, eight-year-old fingers.
“I think your uncle Miles is my good luck now.” She lays the charm around Alice’s neck and latches the clasp in the back.
Alice folds her chin in and holds the charm up, trying to look at the thing. “This is the best necklace I’ve ever seen in my entire, whole long life.” She hops onto Delaney—who cannot stay on her feet in this place. They tumble over, but Alice doesn’t seem to notice. She hugs Delaney close and presses three kisses to her cheek. “I have to show Daddy!” she bellows and hops her way out of the bounce house. “He needs to know that I’m the lucky one in the house. So when he goes to Vegas, I need to come!”
“Vegas?” Delaney laughs, still on her back.
I watch Alice leave. “You didn’t have to do that,” I say. “Do you need help getting up again?”
Her long hair fans out over the yellow bottom of the bounce house, showing off the strands of blue more than ever before. She doesn”t answer, and when I look closer, tears are swimming in her steel-blue eyes.
“Hey,” I say, sitting on the bounce house floor next to her. “You okay?”
“I know why you want a family, Miles.” She turns her head to look at me; when one of those tears escapes, she swats it away and faces the ceiling again. “I never understood before why anyone would want to take on the work and responsibility of making sure another human survived. Not knowing what that might turn you into, or how it would change you, or if they’d even like you in the end. But your family…” Her nose wrinkles, and she sniffs. “These past weeks.” She peers at me again, blinking, another tear escaping. “I get it.”
“And that makes you sad?” I’m unsure what to say here—or how she feels about this.
“Yes.” But two seconds later, she’s shaking her head. “No. It makes me confused,” she says.
“Confused?” I think about all she’s told me; she’s never wanted a family. “It’s okay to change your mind, Laney. Maybe you felt one way before, but things change. You are allowed to feel differently.”
She stares up at me. And if one more tear falls from those eyes, I might do something drastic. You want a baby, take my firstborn. Whatever you want, Delaney Jones.
“I feel confused,” she says, pressing her lips together. “About you.”
“About me?” I’m officially on repeat. I can only echo her words while making zero sense of them.
Snatching a hold of the front of my T-shirt, she tugs until I lay right next to her.
“Yes.” She rolls onto her side, her eyes still piercing through me. “You make me feel things.”
I resist the urge to repeat, yet again, the last part of her sentence—all while feeling quite a few things myself.
“I kissed you four days ago, Miles.”
“Yes,” I say, remembering all too well her lips on mine. Didn’t she make me promise not to fall for her? She’s making it really difficult.
“We never talked about that.”
“No.”
“You haven’t kissed me again.”
“You made me promise not to fall in love with you, remember?” I move a loose hair over her eyes from her face, my fingers trailing over the sweetness of her cheek. “I’ve been working pretty hard on that.”
Her long, dark lashes flutter, and she presses her lips together. “And how’s it going?”
I swallow, my eyes locked on her. She is so much more than a rock star. So much more than a girl with a gift. And she’s here with me. “Not great,” I admit.
Her lips perk up in the smallest of smiles, and she breathes out the tiniest of sighs. Soft and timid, she says, “Kiss me, Miles.”