CHAPTER 39
TYLER
The next morning Tyler and Cary went to her nephews’ hockey tournament, and they cheered as each boy’s team won in their division. Of course the hockey moms lost their shit when they saw Cary, and he posed for selfies and signed autographs, much to the chagrin of the dads.
After the hockey tournament they went to Polo Park shopping center to pick out gifts for Marnie and Heather’s shower. Their due dates were coming up soon and she couldn’t wait to see her friends become mothers.
At the baby store, Cary insisted on buying everything left on the registry, including a few things he said were cute. She tried to put a few items back but he flatly refused.
When they were done shopping they hailed a taxi and stuffed the presents into the minivan.
“You don’t have to do this,” Tyler said. “You scored enough bonus points at the rink this morning.”
“It was fun.” Cary climbed into the minivan. “Your nephews are really good. I wouldn’t be surprised if they made it to the big leagues.”
“As long as they play for the Jets.”
She would disown them if they played for Vancouver’s hockey team—blood only runs so deep.
“I’ve never been to a baby shower,” he admitted. “You’re sure it’s mixed, right?”
She picked up her phone. “It says Marnie and Heather’s Co-Ed Baby Shower. I don’t know why they’re doing it so close to their due dates.”
“How could they fly, being so pregnant?”
“They didn’t. They drove. They wanted their babies born in Winnipeg.” She scooched forward in her seat and asked the driver, “Can you take Wellington Crescent, please?” She turned to Cary. “It’s scenic.”
He reached across the presents and took her hand. “I wish I wasn’t leaving tomorrow. I hate missing you.”
“I don’t want to go either.” She sighed through her nose. “Sebastien’s on my flight.”
“I still can’t believe he’s not happy for us.” Cary shook his head, rubbing his chin. “I thought we were better friends.”
“He doesn’t have friends,“ she said.
“What about Tommy?”
“Fucking Tommy? Please. That’s not a friendship—it’s a circle jerk with money instead of dicks.”
Cary huffed a laugh. “Bob Shaw doesn’t like him either.”
“Really?” She turned her head, trying to read his expression. “Since when?”
“Since he got sober. He’s being professional, but he can’t stand Sebastien’s shenanigans. Honestly, neither can I.”
“Huh.” She leaned back. “Do you know why he’s like this?”
“It’s a mix of things,” Cary said. “He never made it as a musician, and his first wife left him for a singer in the band he was touring with.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Bob Shaw said the guy packed up her stuff, moved her in, and then fired Sebastien.”
“He probably deserved it,” she said as a ding chimed from her bag.
“Is that your phone again?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how I’m going to keep Nadie from Sebastien. My phone’s been blowing up since last night.” She showed him the unread messages on her screen. “The Jets have already asked about her availability.”
“She’s stealing my gig,” he teased.
Earlier at the rink, a few hockey sisters asked Nadie for selfies, and her niece couldn’t have been more accommodating.
“I can’t believe she got recognized!” Tyler said, answering a message.
“It happens fast.” He paused. “At least it did for me. I went from obscurity to stardom overnight. But I’m lucky I didn’t grow up with social media. I love my fans but don’t appreciate people tracking me down like I’m on the FBI’s most-wanted list.”
“I can’t imagine,” she said. “I know you love your fans, but you deserve a life too, don’t you think? Actually, your fans would want that for you. Wouldn’t they?”
“Maybe.” He turned his head toward the window. “I feel lucky to live this life.”
“It’s the only one you’re going to get.” She stared out Cary’s window. “Look at these houses.” She pointed to a for-sale sign on the front gate across the street. “The Lounts own that one. I guess they’re selling it.”
Cary swiveled his head. “Vegas’s house is around here somewhere.”
“Really? This is the rich part of town.”
“I pay him well.”
“I’m glad they’re moving here.” She mustered a smile. “Kim loves working for you, but she’s not happy at SDM.”
“You’re unhappy too, babe.” He squeezed her hand gently. “I want you to leave.”
She stared into his bright hazel eyes. “I told you, he’ll ruin my career.”
“What if I leave? You can manage me.”
“What, so he can ruin both of us? No, thank you. And don’t think he won’t try.”
“I’m serious.”
“I love you, Cary, but I don’t want to manage you.” The idea of spouses managing their partners weirded her out—almost as much as joining their bands.
“You don’t?” he asked.
“I have no interest in being your babysitter.”
The taxi pulled up to Marnie’s parents’ house and Tyler smiled at her old neighborhood while the score from E.T. traveled in her head. The original owners still occupied most of the homes in the area, and the Robertsons and Marnie’s parents were no exception.
“I’ll grab the rest of the presents,” Cary offered. “You go on ahead.”
She lugged two handfuls of gift bags up the steps and rang the doorbell. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been there. It was probably back in high school, senior year.
Little Lesley, Marnie’s younger sister, answered the door.
Tyler widened her eyes. “God, I haven’t seen you fully grown!”
Little Lesley rolled her eyes. “Marnie’s only three years older,” she said, taking the gift bags. “Come in! I have to ask—are you seriously banging Cary Kingston?”
“She is,” Cary said, hauling the rest of the presents.
Little Lesley’s face flushed. “Oh my god. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He laughed. “I’m not.”
“Hey, Tyler, remember your locker in high school?” Little Lesley gave her a cheeky grin. “All those posters you had of him?”
Tyler shot her a shut-up look as Cary’s eyes bounced between them.
“Tell me more,” Cary said.
“That’s enough information for one day,” Tyler said, grabbing his arm. “Besides, they were Dylan’s first.”
Little Lesley smiled and motioned toward the living room where a dozen women sat with their children in the company of her very pregnant friends. “Everyone’s in there,” she said.
The room fell silent, jaws open, when they walked in.
“Hi,” Cary said, and the women practically swooned. Okay, calm down.
“This is Cary, everyone,” Tyler introduced him. “Cary, these are my friends from high school.”
“I thought it was mixed?” he whispered to Tyler.
“The guys are downstairs shooting pool,” Marnie said, letting him off the hook. “My brother and his friends.”
“Hank and Mark are down there too,” Heather added.
“Sorry,” Tyler whispered back. “I thought we’d be together. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
“Nice meeting you,” Cary said to the women before escorting Tyler back into the hall. “I’ll stay.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind shooting pool.”
“What?” She laughed. “You know how to play pool?”
“Of course I do. Want to chalk up my cue?”
“Later.” She bit her bottom lip at the thought of it. “I’m sure Mark and Hank will entertain you, but text if you need me to save you.”
“Are you babysitting me?” He gave her a bratty grin.
She grinned. “What if I am?”
Tyler hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed her friends, but as laughter and conversation filled the room, a quiet ache settled in her chest. She was missing something else even more.
She was the only unmarried person there, and as much as her friends had gushed about Cary, it was painfully clear—she wasn’t any closer to having a family of her own.
The thought lodged itself deep, unsettling and undeniable.
She didn’t want to wait until the tour was over.
She was in love with him. And more than anything, she wanted a baby—one with hazel eyes and an ear for music, a piece of both of them that would last forever.
Two hours later she checked her phone, but there were no messages from Cary. As long as the husbands weren’t dusting off Marnie’s old beer bong, she’d try not to worry.
“Please tell the guys to come up here,” Marnie asked her sister, unwrapping the last present with as much enthusiasm as the first. “Mark and Hank can help cut the cake.”
Little Lesley kicked the blue and pink tissue paper scattered across the living room floor, making a path to the basement door.
“It’s time for cake!” she yelled down the stairs.
A few seconds later the men trampled up the stairs like a human stampede.
“I’ll cut the cake,” Hank slurred, unable to hold the knife’s edge straight.
“I’ll help,” Mark said in no better shape.
“I’ve got it.” Heather gently took the knife away from her husband. “We’ll be at the hospital soon enough.”
While her friends took over the cake-cutting, Tyler held her boyfriend’s hand. She could tell he’d been drinking even before he whispered, “I want to fuck you right now.”
“Let’s wait until we’re back at the hotel.” She turned to meet his gaze. “It wouldn’t be polite in front of everyone.”
“We have an announcement!” Marnie clapped, quieting the room. “We’re moving home! Heather and I are moving back here,” she clarified. “With Mark and Hank, if they’re lucky.”
Everyone hugged and cheered while Tyler reined in her tears, trying to be happy for her friends.
After Tyler and Cary said their goodbyes, they walked down the street toward her dad’s house. Rory was spending the weekend there, mostly sleeping, according to Bert.
“Did you have an okay time?” she asked, snow crunching underneath her boots.
“They’re a great bunch of guys,” he said. “I won at foosball!”
“Foosball?” She shook her head. “You never cease to amaze me with your talents. Did they ask for a lot of selfies?”
“No, not one. They were too busy with the beer bong.” They continued to walk down the street. “Mark and Hank are coming to my show in Ottawa. Remind me to tell Kim to get them backstage passes.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Mark and Hank aren’t going anywhere. They’re having babies any day now.”
“Right.” He nodded. “It’s such good news about your friends moving home.”
She wiped away a tear with the sleeve of her coat. “I’m happy for them.”
“What’s wrong, babe?” He stopped in his tracks.
“I want a baby,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t want to wait.”
“I’m so glad you said that.” He cracked a smile. “I don’t want to wait either.”
She shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Is that the beer talking, or . . . ?”
He winked. “I was drinking wine.”
Smartass.
“Why don’t we get Rory in the morning?” he suggested.
“Do you mean . . . start trying tonight?”
His smile grew a foot. “No cup, though.”
“Just like Vancouver’s team.”