32. Felicity
felicity
Nothing beats Christmas.
The snow on the ground, the carols playing on the record player in the corner, the laughter and conversation the family is having around me, the warm mug of cocoa in my hand. It is a magical day.
Jax and I had woken early this morning, like we were two little kids excited to open presents. We spent a couple of hours together this morning basking in the joy the day brought.
Last night, we attended the church’s Christmas Eve service, and there was something so peacefully majestic about it that I wanted to bottle the feeling up and take it with me wherever I went.
After our little breakfast this morning, after he showed me the beautiful handcrafted crib he special ordered from one of the locals in town—and after I cried big fat baby tears—we’d headed to my folks’ house where we celebrated with a nice lunch spread and gifts.
Jax even got my parents gifts without telling me: my dad, a brand-new fishing pole and my mom, a gadget for her classroom that told the times around the world that he thought she would love to have so she could impress her students.
It was safe to say that my parents put whatever reservations they had behind them and were fully embracing having Jax in our lives again.
That was the best present I could have hoped for.
Now, we are at the ranch enjoying warm beverages after a delicious dinner and watching the little kids opening presents.
Didi Cash, Jax’s mom, is holding an unopened gift on her lap, and her gaze keeps hitting mine before bouncing away, as if she is nervous.
Over Thanksgiving, she expressed her concerns over Jax being with me again, over me being pregnant with another person’s baby, and I had to hold in my emotions at the conversation.
When we were in high school, Didi was so kind to me. I kind of chalked up her worries to me having hurt even her feelings when I left Jax behind, to her being worried for her children. Something I’ve only had a half percent of a taste of.
Finally, after some of the chaos from the kids opening presents dies down, Didi makes her way across the living room to where Jax and I are sitting. I smile at her, and she gives me a tentative one back before handing me the gift.
“For me?” I ask in shock, taking the gift in one hand before handing my mug to Jax. He takes it and sits up, looking at the gift and to his mother.
“Yes,” she smiles prettily, and it hits me again how beautiful the woman is. She doesn’t seem to age. She just has this natural pretty glow about her. “I know last time I saw you, it wasn’t the most pleasant.”
I smile softly, feeling Jax tense beside me. I never told him about his mom’s conversation with me because I didn’t feel he needed more things to worry about. “It’s all right. I get it, Mrs. Cash.”
Her eyes flutter, and she says, “Please. Call me Didi. You always have.”
I soften my features and nod. “Okay, Didi.”
“Well, go on.” She smiles broader and gestures toward the gift. “Open it up.”
I take the soft green tissue paper out of the present and pull out the soft material inside of the bag, gasping at the little baby onesie I pull out. There’s a small rocking horse on the front, with lace trim around the neck. It’s what I would call a fancy onesie, if such a thing exists.
Her hand rests on top of mine, and I look to her. “It was Jax’s as a baby. I thought it would be nice if his son also got to wear it.”
Tears hit my eyes, and I look back at the onesie, so intensely grateful for the gift that I’m afraid I’m about to make a blubbering fool of myself. Not only at the generosity of it, but the words she said.
“It would be nice if his son got to wear it.” Her acknowledging the fact that Jax has taken on my baby as his own is a gift in and of itself.
I swallow hard and look back at her, seeing her trying to hold back her own emotions. “This is the most amazing gift. Thank you.”
“Thanks, Mom. I didn’t know you kept that,” Jax says, fingering a bit of the lace. “I remember seeing pictures of me in this.”
She nods. “Your grandmother Rose made it. It’s a family heirloom. I expect you two to keep it safe. Even if it gets a stain or two.” She winks and pats my hand before standing and making her way to her sister, Dani’s mom.
I stare at the onesie a little longer, just looking at it in awe.
“You okay, City Girl?” Jax whispers in my ear, and I look over at him, tears now freely sliding down my face.
“I can’t…” I pause and swallow, feeling his fingers brush the tears off of my cheeks.
“Can’t what, baby?”
I shake my head. “I just feel so honored to be accepted by her.” I shrug my shoulders. “By all of you.”
Jax leans closer, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “This is your family, City.” He sets my mug of cocoa down on the coffee table, then lays his hand on my stomach. “And you two are mine.”
I truly, sincerely did not want to be here.
I was dressed to the nines, my makeup and wardrobe people working their magic to make it look like I didn’t have a baby growing rapidly inside of me.
Less than a month before I was to have this baby, and I was here getting ready to sing at the New Year’s Eve in Times Square event. In front of millions of people.
Yeah. Sure. They wouldn’t notice the belly.
“The way the skirt goes out hides it perfectly.”
I stare in the mirror, barely recognizing myself after months of barely wearing makeup and enjoying the freedom that gave me. “I look like a 1700s disco ball.” I turn to the side, the light reflecting off the millions of sequins on my dress.
The dress tucked in under my breasts and then went out, out, out at my waist before falling straight down.
“I think you look amazing,” Jax says from where he sits on the armrest of a couch. The slightly amused look on his face tells me that he agrees with my comment, but the brain inside of his head is still working slightly because he doesn’t say anything else.
“I think everyone is about to know I’m pregnant,” I say, realizing how little I care about that fact.
Zack hasn’t cared, hasn’t wanted anything to do with the baby, and agreed to give up his rights. I just need him to sign the papers.
Part of me is heartbroken, but that is just on behalf of my child, whose biological father was being the way he was. But another part of me is relieved, especially considering the man I am with now is more than ready to be the father this baby needs.
A head pops into my green room and smiles broadly at me. “Ms. Vogel, they’re ready for you!”
I give a slight smile back to the stage manager, my brain going blank as it slips into performance mode. It’s the first time ever performing with Jax by my side. I’mm nervous because I care what he thinks, but I am also so glad to have him here with me.
I reach out my hand, and his slips into it without thought, despite having to stay two feet away from me because of the dress.
My manager, Jeanette, is in the hall, a Bluetooth headset in her ear as usual and a no-nonsense look on her face. “Finally,” she says as she looks at me, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Jax squeezes my hand. “You should probably just wait back here.”
Her comment is directed at Jax, and his hand squeezes mine tighter. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Jeanette sighs, letting her irritation be known. “It would be better for your darling girlfriend if you didn’t get seen. It will mess with the image we’ve so carefully curated.”
Jax takes a step forward right as I open my mouth, and I look at him to see a scowl on his face I’ve never seen before.
Jax is pissed. “First, you need to find some respect for her when speaking about her.” Jeanette sticks up her nose just slightly, looking miffed.
“Second, wherever she goes, I go. This is not a negotiation.”
For a moment they stare each other down, and for the first time in my career, I don’t have to be the one sticking up for me and telling my manager—who was supposed to care about me at least a little—the way I want things to be. But Jax just did it without even a breath of thought.
“Fine.” She finally relents, turning on her heel and leading us down the long hallway. Ezra coughs, and I turn to my right to see him covering a smile.
I look at Jax, who has a hard, determined look on his face, and I squeeze his hand. “You okay?”
We’re rushing down the hallway so fast that even my insanely hair-sprayed hair moves as the air rushes past us.
Jax looks at me and grins. “I’m good.”
I tilt my head, giving him a disbelieving look. “Jax, you’re not good.”
“I am perfectly fine and happy to be here with you,” he replies, lowering his voice before continuing. “I’m pissed about the way she spoke.”
I feel my face contort, mad at how she treated him. I was used to it, the demanding tone, the being pushed around and told what to do, being treated like a puppet. It was part of this whole thing. “I’m sorry for the way she spoke to you.”
Jax stops, causing a parade of other people to stop too.
Jeanette notices and looks back. “Come on. We’re on a tight schedule.”
My boyfriend cuts her a look, and I see her take a step back. “She’ll be there in a minute, when she’s ready.”
I open my mouth to say I’m ready when Jax turns to me and cups the sides of my face.
“Just so we’re clear, that woman could call me an asshole every day of the week, and I wouldn’t give two shits.
” He rubs a thumb over my cheekbone, “But if she talks disrespectfully to you one more time, I’m going to have serious problems.”
“Jax.” I sigh, melting into the weirdly sexy possessiveness. “I’m used to it. It’s kind of par for the course with this career.”
He shakes his head, his eyes lighting up with what I can only guess is anger. “Well, not anymore. Not for you.”
We turn then, making our way underground toward where I step up onto the stage. I don’t know what Jax means by that, but if I had to bet, I would guess he wants me to fire the manager I’ve had for the last ten years.
I push that all aside as we approach the stage. Security is everywhere, flashing flashlights so I can see where to step. Jax holds tight to my hand as we ascend the stairs. Ezra is in front of me, holding my other hand. Not one person says anything about Jax following me up the stairs.
I hear the crowd long before I see them, and the screams are deafening. I am sure they aren’t all for me, but when I pop my head above enough to see the stage, it is completely dark on the stage with no one else talking, singing, or introducing anyone.
“They’ve already introduced you,” Jeanette says loudly. “You’re late.”
I nod my head, maneuvering myself around on the side of the stage with the monstrous dress. “Well, I’ll give them something worth waiting for.”
Jax kisses my hand and steps back, allowing my security and my band to get through. “That’s my girl.”
I watch where he goes, seeing him find a small space on what would be considered the side stage, and then my brain switches gears, and I put on my stage face.
The New Year’s crowds are some of the best in the world to play for, and hearing them scream at the opening notes of one of my top songs gives me a rush that I forgot I love so much.
A spotlight finds me, and I stride onto the stage, trying my best not to trip over the dress and smile at the waiting crowd. Phil nods at me, a giant sparkly hat on his head, and I laugh at the costume before we launch into a song we’ve sung a million times together.
The crowd eats it up, screaming and jumping along to the lyrics and music. Every few minutes, my gaze meets Jax’s, and he grins broadly, seeing me in my element—my real element—for the first time.
I don’t mind doing this. I love connecting with the crowd and seeing them love the music, but there is still a large part of me that wants to slow this down, to make more intimate, meaningful music, and enjoy a slower life. I still want to perform, to make albums, and spread my love of music.
But maybe not at this level.
The song ends, as does my performance, and the ball starts to drop as the crowd counts down to the new year. And even though I know Jeannette might hate me for it, I look over at Jax, reach out a hand, and wait for him to come to me on the stage.
When he does, and the clock strikes midnight, Jax places a hand over my belly, another cupping my cheek, and he kisses me into the New Year.