Chapter 38
38
Shane
“A little to the right. The table is blocking my view.”
Cat picks up her mat and shuffles closer to the pool. “Here?”
“Perfect.”
She bends away from me in the downward dog pose, causing me to shift my— fuck . Okay, that fucking hurt. I use my right arm this time and tuck it behind my head to watch my wi—fiancée do yoga on the deck this fine morning.
The good life.
And then the meds kick in, and my eyelids grow heavy again.
I wake up to see Cat asleep next to me, curled on her side with her hand on my stomach. I reach over and stroke her head, not meaning to wake her but in appreciation of her being here. She canceled her week to stay and take care of me and take me to the doctor.
She lifts her head, worry gripping her gaze. “Is everything okay?”
I touch her again, letting her silky hair flow through my fingers. “It’s perfect.”
Her grin widens as she sits up, shifting to lean against the headboard. “You have a broken shoulder, and life is perfect?”
“Yes.” I start to adjust, so she helps arrange the pillows to support my back when I sit up. “I’ll heal in no time. You heard the doctor. And he called me a star?—”
“Yes, yes. He called you a superstar patient.”
“And he wasn’t referring to my fame.”
“You sure about that?” she teases, her laughter shaking her shoulders. “I kid. I kid.” She taps my nose. “You’ve actually been a really good patient. I expected a lot more whining.”
Leaning over to the point I know I can before it hurts, I wait. “Sorry to disappoint.” She meets me halfway. Partners.
“Not a disappointment. I thought you’d need me more.”
I rub her leg and look at her face, not liking the sadness that has permeated her features. “You know I need you. As a matter of fact, I could use some special attention right now under the covers, Nurse Cate.” I lift the blanket to show her that I haven’t lost my desire for her.
“You’re incorrigible, Shane Faris.” She climbs out of bed, padding toward the bathroom.
Still holding the covers, I ask, “That’s a no, right?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a yes?”
“No.” And then I hear her vomit. “Ugh. It’s the second time today.”
I drop the covers because I realize we’re entering a new relationship era.
Two weeks later . . .
“What is this?” Cat walks around the back of the vehicle, taking it in.
“It’s your new car. An SUV technically.”
“I have a car.” She points across the driveway. “The Toyota.”
“Now you have a new one.” I present with both hands out. “A Volvo.”
Her gaze bounces between me and the SUV. I can tell she likes it because her eyes have brightened, but she doesn’t like that she likes it so much. “You can’t give me this gift, babe. It’s too expensive.”
Confused, I ask, “What do you mean?”
Her eyes find mine across the top of the hood, and she laughs. “I know money is no object?—”
“Money’s an object that I like to spend on you. But it’s not like I’m buying a two-hundred-million-dollar yacht.”
She walks to the front, sliding her finger along the emblem. “I’ve always wanted to go on a yacht.”
Tipping my head, I smirk. “Random but noted. As for the vehicle, it’s a Volvo, babe. Safest in its class. The inventor of the seat belt. Airbags all around to protect the kids and you.” I catch her smiling. She’s warming up to the idea. “I got a car that I thought you would like and fits what you would look for in value and reliability. But if you’d like something else, choose whatever you want sensible or impractical. I want you to have what you want.”
“I do like it. It’s pretty in this blue. Reminds me of your eyes.” If she’d let me spoil her rotten, I would.
“I thought you’d like it.” I open the driver’s door. “Get in. I want to show you the best part.”
She doesn’t bother coming around to the driver’s seat. She opens the passenger door and slips onto the leather.
“The interior color is called camel, not beige.” No beige for my babe. I ease in carefully, not to irritate my shoulder, and ask, “Notice anything?”
The smile splits her cheeks as soon as she sees it and a giggle bursts free. Reaching toward the headrest, she runs her fingertips over the design. “You did not.”
“I did.”
Angling for a better look, she says, “Why do I like it so much?”
“I know, right?” She pulls her phone out and takes a photo of her initials embroidered on the seat. I kept it classy for her, so the thread is camel-colored as well. “CMF,” I say, “Catalina Marie Faris. Or Farin if you prefer. Works both ways.”
She replies, “Tomato.”
“Tamahto.”
“I love it, Shane. It’s beautiful and it will make the commute a lot easier and more comfortable. Thank you.” Checking the back seat, she adds, “And it fits two car seats.”
I’m about to move to surprise number two when my brain catches up. “Wait . . . what?”
“Just in case.” She shrugs. “Twins do run in the family.”
“Talk about expensive.”
She leans over to give me a kiss. “It’s only money. I need you to remember that.”
“Now it’s no object,” I reply sarcastically.
She laughs.
Suddenly, I’m nervous. I shouldn’t be. We’re together. We’re happy. We’re having a baby together. “I should have given you this a long time ago.”
“The car? You didn’t need to worry about?—”
“Not the car.” Why is this so nerve-wracking? “There’s something for you in the glove box.”
She pushes against it with her fingertips, and it begins slowly openly. It’s the reveal I was hoping for. “What is . . .” She’s staring at the velvet ring box, dragging her palms down the front of her jeans.
I shouldn’t but she seems to need the help. I reach over with my right arm and retrieve it. Opening the box, I say, “You deserve the universe, but I hope this ring will be a good substitute.”
Tears fill her eyes as she reaches for it but hesitates. “It’s too beautiful, Shane.”
“I thought of you the moment I saw it. Luna helped. So if you don’t?—”
“Luna was in on this?” She wipes her eyes and rests her hand on her chest.
I’m prepared, so I pull tissues from the console. “I had it picked out, but this should be forever, so I didn’t want to fuck it up. I showed it to her to get her opinion. She approved.”
“I can imagine. I’m speechless.” She clasps her hands together at her chest. “I really am.”
“Four carats in total. Nothing too flashy.”
She shoots a glare in my direction with an arched eyebrow in a pointed gesture. “Not flashy, huh?”
I shrug. “Luna told me to go for six.”
Laughing, she says, “That sounds like Luna.”
The diamond is a brilliant cushion cut situated on a platinum band. “Can I try it on you to see if you like it?”
“I like it in the box. I can’t imagine it’s going to be worse.” I take it from the box and slip it on the ring finger of the hand she’s holding out. Pulling back, she admires it in the sunlight drifting in through the open door.
I think she likes it, but I ask, “What do you think?”
“What do I think? God, Shane, it’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.” She lunges over the console, wrapping her arms gently around my neck as her mouth collides with mine when she kisses me. “I love it so much.” Waggling her fingers to watch it sparkle, she adds, “When should we get married?”
Six months later . . .
She jinxed us.
Although I’m probably a lot responsible for making twins with her.
“The babies want a burrito from El Fuego’s Burrito Shack,” she says, sending me out at nine at night to pick up food for a snack. I used to not even go out before midnight. Now I’m ready to stay in by seven. Life changes fast, and our priorities have shifted even quicker.
I should have bought stock in El Fuego’s last July based on how much I now frequent it. I have a standing order ready to go. I’m not sure that’s normal. But the babies get what the babies want.
Tossing the keys on the kitchen counter, I notice Cat asleep on the green couch that made it over from her place when the lease was up. The painting she did hangs proudly as the centerpiece of the living room. She brought more than color to my life. She brought meaning.
And soon two babies. I sit on the coffee table with the bag of food beside me. I always hate waking her up because she’s tired when she gets home from work. But if I don’t, she’ll sleep until morning, and she needs to eat.
I lean down, kiss her temple, and whisper, “I love you.”
Her eyes open, and a slow smile graces her face. “I love you, too.” She sees the bag of food next to me, and asks, “For me?”
“Yep, for you and the babies.” I stroke her cheek before standing. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Water is good. Shane?” I turn back to see her holding her hand out. “Can you help sit me up?”
“Of course,” I say. Sitting down, I wrap my arm around her to help her shift and find a comfortable spot.
“Thanks. Have I mentioned today that I miss my waist?”
Chuckling, I reply, “Not today.”
“I love these babies dearly, but I did not foresee this,” she says, widening her arms, “situation happening.” She clicks on the remote. “Of course twins weren’t on my radar either, so there is that.”
I’m not sure if she’s looking for an apology or someone to listen. I do both because it’s not about me. This gorgeous woman is having my babies. The least I can do is lend an ear. “The Faris genes are strong.” Not quite an apology, but she gets me.
I set a glass of water next to her and hand her the bag. “I’m going to the studio to play for a while. I’m working out a new rhythm I want to bring to the next album.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Text me if you need anything. Soundproof room. I won’t hear you otherwise.”
Sweating and exhausting my muscles, I hit as hard as I can on this new custom drum kit. Ergonomic and fucking loud. It’s fantastic. I can play longer and intend to be in the best shape of my life for the tour next fall.
The door catches my eyes when it opens, so I park my sticks on top of the rim. Cat peeks in and then enters, belly first, my beautiful girl. “It’s after midnight.”
“Did I keep you up?”
“No. I just miss you. I fell asleep but woke up, and you hadn’t come to bed.”
Picking up my sticks, I tap lightly, then spin them between my fingers. “I’ve been hitting the shit out of these drums. I like them. They’re tight and loud. They remind me of you.”
“I’m going to take that as the compliment it was intended to be.” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the doorframe. “Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”
“What’s the plan after the babies come?”
“Plan sounds monumental right now.”
I drop the sticks in the pouch and call it a night. Getting up, I cross the room and lean against the door in front of her. “What’s your plan?”
We’ve talked about this a few times, keeping things light and skirting the real issues. I’m not generally one to make a lot of “plans,” but I think we need to. She’s rubbing off on me.
She takes my hand and leads me into our bathroom, knowing me well enough to know that’s what’s next for me. “I love my job.”
“I know. I want to support you however I can, but we have two babies coming soon. We need to have people in place if we’re hiring one or two someones.” I reach in and start the shower.
Sitting on a chair in front of the mirror, she says, “I love my job, but I want to be home with them. If I were to spend money, I’d spend it on time raising the babies.”
I go to her, kneeling in front of my goddess. “When I’m not on tour, I’ll be here with you, or you can work part-time. We can do anything that you want. I just think we need to plan for that.”
“I’ll think about it, okay?” Kissing her forehead, I then rise to my full height. “I’m going to take a shower, and then I’m going to make you feel so good that you’ll?—”
“Scream your name?”
“It’s an excellent start.”
She crinkles her nose. “It’s more of an ending, but I’ll give you credit where it’s due. Your talents extend way beyond the stage. You should probably come with a warning.”
“I thought everyone already knew what they say about drummers?”
She’s already smiling. No one else would put up with my shit like she does. “What do they say?” She humors me.
“Drummers hit it harder.”
Rubbing her stomach, she says, “I have the evidence to prove it.”
“Guilty as charged.”
Why am I staying up late when I have this beauty to go to bed with every night?
I’m a lucky fucking bastard.