CHAPTER 17
JAMIE
I n the Uber, Jamie googled every combination of “dogs + pregnancies” she could find.
It was news to her that dogs could have miscarriages, typically from an infection, but Poppy had never been sick a day in her life—at least not since she was adopted.
Still, it worried her that Poppy might get ill, and she wished her dog understood what was happening.
Imagine not knowing you’re about to give birth, like the women on the show I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant.
The rideshare pulled up to Shorty’s building and the driver helped her with her bags. She could barely handle two roller suitcases, a carry-on, a guitar, and a dog—maybe even three or four dogs, now that she thought about it.
“Ruth!” Jamie called as she stepped into Shorty’s penthouse, shifting the small dog in her arms. “I’m home.”
Ruth appeared in the foyer, eyes widening as she gently took Poppy. “What happened?”
“Clayton Langley, that’s what.” Jamie shook her head, still in disbelief. “I swear, I cannot stand that man. ”
Ruth frowned. “What did he do this time?”
“Not him—his dog,” Jamie huffed, shoving her suitcases inside and letting the door slam behind her. “You won’t believe what that dog did to Poppy.”
Ruth gasped, quickly inspecting the dog. “Oh no! Did he attack her?”
Jamie threw up her hands. “In a way.”
“In a way?” Ruth’s brow furrowed.
Jamie exhaled sharply, like she still couldn’t believe it. “His idiot dog knocked her up.”
Ruth blinked. “Wait . . . what?”
“Poppy’s pregnant. With that moron’s puppies.”
For a moment Ruth just stared. Then, to Jamie’s horror, her face lit up. “Oh my God. Labradoodles!”
Jamie groaned. “Are you serious right now?”
Ruth kissed Poppy’s head, glowing with excitement. “Can I have one?”
Jamie sighed and shrugged off her jacket, irritated that Ruth was acting like this was great news. “This is the last thing I need,” she muttered, toeing off her boots covered in dirt from that stupid ranch. “Puppies.”
“Please!” Ruth begged, bouncing on her toes.
Jamie rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. The twins want one, so I’ll have to find homes for the rest.”
“I want a girl puppy if there’s one,” Ruth said, cuddling Poppy. “I’m going to name her Reba, after Reba McEntire. You know, she’s an Okie.”
Jamie sighed and headed for the kitchen, flipping on the light. “Yeah, you might’ve mentioned. Come in here—I need a drink.”
Ruth followed her. “Do you want me to make you a Blake-a-Rita?”
“Bless you, child. ”
Jamie sat at the kitchen table, watching Ruth pour vodka and lemon-lime soda over ice. Ruth’s first job off her family’s farm was slinging drinks at Ole Red—Blake Shelton’s bar—and she never shut up about it.
Ruth passed her the drink and took a seat across the table. “Do you want to talk about what’s really going on?”
“What do you mean?” Jamie took a sip, closing her eyes. For someone so diminutive, Ruth had a surprisingly heavy pouring hand.
“You’ve been kind of grumpy since New York,” she said. “I mean, I’m not coming down on you or anything. I know it’s been hard.”
She sighed, unsure what to think. Ruth was right—she’d been in a foul mood since the bomb was dropped. “I feel like Derrick got the better of me. And you know he’s dating Matilda just to spite me.”
“You really think he’s with her because of you and Clayton?”
“There’s no me and Clayton.” The thought alone made her skin crawl. “But yes, a hundred percent.”
“Okay, but what if he isn’t? And you two never get back together?”
Jamie leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her drink. It was a fair question—one she didn’t have an answer for. She wasn’t someone who believed everything happened for a reason, but maybe, just maybe, this did.
“You know, the funny thing is I don’t even miss him.” It was the truth. And she certainly didn’t miss him telling her what to do or what to eat.
“That’s great, James.”
“It is,” she said. “When I got cell service back I didn’t even think about googling him.
That’s never happened before. Every other time we broke up I’d spiral—scrolling, searching, trying to figure out what he was doing, who he was with.
” She set her glass down and exhaled slowly. “But not this time. ”
This time she didn’t care. Or maybe she cared differently. She wasn’t interested in getting back together. She wasn’t interested in him at all—except for one thing.
“I still want to get even.”
She swirled the last sip of her drink, watching the ice melt into the liquid. Then, with quiet resolve, she downed it.
“But first I need to finish my record.”
For the next three weeks Jamie threw herself into her album. She was up at dawn, arriving at the studio before Dusty and Evan, even though she wasn’t a morning person. Coffee barely took the edge off but she powered through, fueled by sheer stubbornness and the need to prove herself.
She’d written two new songs that Shorty had already sent off to the record label. Brimming with piss and vinegar, her productivity soared—even if she still couldn’t shake the nagging doubt about having a hit single.
Meanwhile Poppy wasn’t having an easy time. She was sluggish, plagued by morning sickness, and needier than ever. Fortunately, with only a sixty-day gestation period, her discomfort wouldn’t last much longer.
Nolan had offered to drop by the studio to give Poppy a checkup. Jamie wasn’t exactly thrilled about spending time with someone named Langley, but Ruth was eager to see the doctor, and in the end Poppy’s health mattered more than her discomfort .
“Hi, ladies.” Nolan walked into the recording studio and tipped his hat. He carried a black leather doctor’s bag, the kind they used to make house calls.
“Hi, Nolan!” Ruth sprang to her feet. Her assistant hardly ever wore makeup but today was an exception, and not by coincidence. “Nice Gladstone bag.”
Nolan lifted his doctor’s bag before putting it on a stool. “Thanks! I made it from an old saddle.” The doctor picked up Poppy from a blanket on the floor. “How’s Miss Poppy?”
Jamie said, “She’s super sleepy and throws up every morning.”
Nolan unzipped his bag, took out a stethoscope, and put the earpieces in. “That’s not unusual.”
“Be careful,” Jamie warned. “She doesn’t like men.”
Poppy stayed calm while he held the metal part against her chest. “She let me examine her at the ranch.”
Was it possible she only liked Langley men?
Nolan said, “Everything sounds good, but we’ll have to give her an ultrasound if you want to know how many puppies she’s having. I don’t like using X-rays because of the radiation.”
“Do I have to?” Jamie asked, as the number of puppies didn’t concern her. She hoped that Poppy would only have two: one for her assistant and one for the girls.
“I’d love to know,” Ruth piped up. “I’m taking one of the puppies and naming her Reba.”
“It’s not necessary at all.” Nolan placed Poppy back on the blanket and then looked at Ruth. “After Reba McEntire?”
Ruth smiled with all her teeth. “The only and only. ”
“Howdy, folks!” Clayton said, opening the door to the studio. He carried four large cups in a cardboard drink carrier and walked in, bringing the smell of coffee with him.
Jamie whipped her head around. “What are you doing here? Besides, people don’t say howdy in Tennessee.”
“Checking on Poppy.” He held up the drinks. “Momma’s from Texas—we were brought up with it.”
Nolan lifted two cups of coffee and offered them to the ladies, but Jamie waved her hand and said, “No, thanks.”
“Thank you!” Ruth said happily, taking a cup.
“Poppy’s fine,” Jamie said coldly. “Well, she’s not fine. She’s pregnant. Besides, you don’t need to check on her—your brother’s a doctor.”
“She’s doing great,” Nolan added.
Clayton set down the drink carrier. “They’re half Duke’s puppies, don’t forget,” he said.
Jamie narrowed her eyes. “You have no legal claim to them,” she snapped, her voice taut with barely contained fury. Her mind raced—was she now at risk of having to split the puppies with Clayton? Or worse, share custody of them?
“I’m not trying to claim them,” Clayton muttered, his tone defensive. “Poppy’s health is all I care about.”
Jamie tightened her jaw, her sigh heavy and exasperated. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Her tone dripped with irritation and the cool detachment she usually maintained was nowhere to be found.
“Suppose it is, but I got Duke fixed the very next morning,” he continued, trying to inject a note of justification into the conversation.
She shot a glare at Nolan, who offered a hesitant nod.
“It’s true, Jamie,” the doctor said, his voice subdued.
“It made him less nuts,” Clayton added, laughing, “It’s Nolan’s joke. ”
The laughter only stoked Jamie’s anger further.
She forced a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and the room’s silence became a suffocating weight.
The tension built like a jury about to deliver a damning verdict.
Even Ruth’s nervous gum-cracking punctured the quiet, but it was clear: Jamie was far too upset to tolerate any more levity.
“I should get going,” Nolan finally said.
“How much do I owe you?” Jamie asked.
Nolan smiled. His teeth were perfectly straight like his brother’s, and she wondered if they’d had braces when they were children. “It’s on the house.”
“I’m paying you,” Clayton offered, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans.
“I’m paying.” Jamie crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t believe in asking for favors.
Nolan picked up his doctor’s bag and walked toward the door. “I’ll take one of the puppies off your hands if they’re not all spoken for.”
“You’d be doing me a favor,” Jamie said. “I promised one to Ruth and one to the girls. The rest don’t have homes.”
Nolan nodded. “It’s settled then.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Ruth offered, leaving Jamie alone with Clayton.