Chapter 36 Ready to See Your Baby? #2
My whirlwind of a life has only gotten busier since the album release.
I did start counseling because I wanted to get better—not only for myself, but for Riley and our baby.
I knew I couldn’t do it on my own. So far, so good.
Talking through my grief and my fear of commitment with Dr. Martin has made a big difference.
Therapy also eases some of the tension I’ve been under with the label pushing us to get back on the road.
I know I can’t. I’m not ready. This was supposed to be a hiatus, but my days are consumed with promoting the new album.
I give it my all because this album is a tribute to Owen, and I want it to succeed, but there’s no fucking way I’ll go on tour and leave Riley alone. They can all go fuck themselves if they think I’d do that.
At the sound of her voice on the other end of the line, my heart settles a little.
“Hi, Ry. How are you?”
“Hi.” She chuckles. “I’m good. Just like I was when you called four hours ago.”
“Hm, you think I should call more often?” I slip out of the studio and head to the elevator. “Because I can.”
She sighs. “You’re giving stage-five clinger, and not in a good way.”
Laughter erupts from deep in my chest as I hit the button for the underground garage.
“It’s not funny, Hade.”
“Sorry, sorry.” I fight a grin. “Never thought being caring would make me a stage-five clinger. Unfortunately for you, that doesn’t offend me. I’ll wear it like a badge.”
“Unbelievable.” In the background, little voices sing, “Goodbye, Miss Riley!”
“Are you done for the day?”
“Yeah. I need a shower before the appointment. I’ve got glitter everywhere, including places it has no business being.”
Warmth spreads through my veins. “I’m intrigued, Ry baby.”
She huffs, but it’s good-natured. “Go to hell.”
“Nah, I’m going to your place. I’ll be there in about forty minutes.”
“Wait downstairs.”
“Are you hiding something from me?” Frowning, I step out of the elevator. “Or someone?”
“See you, Hayden.” With that, the line goes dead.
I climb into the back seat and settle beside a bouquet of forget-me-nots and pearly white roses. “Thank you for picking these up,” I say to Wyatt.
“Anytime, sir.” He nods then focuses on the road.
I trace my fingers over the petals, reveling in the soft, velvety sensation. I bring Riley flowers every time I see her, and her reactions are what keep me going. I’ve been saving this particular combo for a special occasion, and today is it. We’re headed to her eighteen-week ultrasound.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am a stage-five clinger, but I don’t know how else to show her I’m not going anywhere. All because I’ve been focusing on actions ever since she told me “actions speak louder than words.”
I call her several times a day. We text all the time. She still won’t come to my place, but I’m happy to go to hers. It’s better, really, since I’m having renovations done and don’t want her to see them yet. We go for walks. I help her with grocery shopping. If I can, I pick her up from the studio.
Despite how careful we are, we’ve been photographed together a few times. Luckily, Glenn is on it, making sure the images don’t show Riley’s face. For now, she’s relatively at ease with how the media is covering our situation. She’s much less fidgety than she used to be when we’re in public.
Though we haven’t touched, other than a hand on her back to guide her or her fingers in mine as I help her out of the car, the vibes are still there, and once in a while, I even find her flirting back.
I count every instance as a little win.
Because I’m not going anywhere this time.
Nope.
She’s mine, and I’ll make sure I’m worthy of her.
Bouquet in hand, I adjust my hood, making sure it hides my face, and knock on her door.
When she opens it, my breath catches. She’s always beautiful, but I swear, she looks better every day. She has half her hair pulled up in a little bun on top of her head, the rest cascading over her shoulders. Her makeup makes her blue eyes pop, so the eye roll she gives me is honestly epic.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t listen,” she mutters, stepping aside.
When she angles to the side, my breathing stalls out completely. She’s in a pair of jeans and a white tee that’s ridden up a little, giving me a glimpse of her bump. It’s small but already so evident.
She’s carrying my baby. Our baby.
“Hayden?”
I blink out of my stupor and act casual, swaggering into her apartment. “These are for you.” I hold out the bouquet. “I hope you like them.”
She breaks into a broad smile as she takes the flowers. “It’s like you peeked inside my head and found exactly what I’d want.” Cheeks pink, she meets my eyes. “Thank you so much. They are perfect.”
“Just like you,” I say. I can’t help myself.
Head thrown back, she laughs. “Okay, that line was too much.” She heads for the kitchen, peering at me over her shoulder. “Wait here, please. I’ll put them in water, and then we can go.”
“Sure.” I prop my shoulder against the wall.
When she returns, her eyes glimmer with happiness. “I’m ready.”
“Then let’s go.”
Riley goes into the exam room alone. Wanting to respect any need for privacy she might have, I never insist on joining her. I’m just here to support.
But that doesn’t stop me from blowing out a relieved breath when a nurse calls me back.
The room is dim, the monitor humming already, Riley reclined on the exam table.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hale,” Dr. Bell greets me. “Come on in.”
I nod, though it’s a challenge. My neck is stiff, like all my muscles have locked up. As I move closer, Riley lifts her tee, putting her bump on display.
My heart thuds in my ears. How is it possible this tiny swell already feels bigger than the entire world?
“Ready to see your baby?” Dr. Bell asks.
“Absolutely,” Riley murmurs.
I’m too nervous to utter a word.
Dr. Bell squirts clear gel onto Riley’s stomach then picks up a wand attached to the sonogram machine.
Between one breath and the next, the steady, strong thump-thump-thump of our baby’s heartbeat echoes around us.
It’s like Bo on the drum kit, creating a rhythmic pattern.
I don’t realize I’m gripping the armrest until my knuckles ache.
Dr. Bell tilts the wand. “Your baby looks perfectly healthy.” She points at the grainy image on the screen. “Strong heartbeat. And…” She pauses, glancing at us. “Would you like to know the sex?”
When Riley looks up at me and nods, a bolt of excitement courses through me. I smile at her then fix my focus on Dr. Bell. “Yes.”
“In that case, congratulations! It’s a girl.”
The world falls away for a moment. A girl. Our girl. Our daughter.
I study the blurry outline on the screen, the curve of her head, her tiny spine.
Warmth courses through my veins, setting my skin on fire.
My eyes burn with tears. I’ve played sold-out arenas, and I’ve stood in front of tens of thousands of screaming fans, but nothing feels as overwhelming, as incredible, as this moment.
It’s a miracle. It’s the best gift this life could’ve given me.
All the awards, all the fans, all the money are great, sure, but I’ve never been happier than I am now.
It’s like my whole world went quiet and then erupted into a million different sounds, making a beautiful, perfect song about my daughter.
I clasp Riley’s hand, and instead of pulling away, she squeezes gently, her gaze still glued to the screen.
“She’s beautiful,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else, as Dr. Bell continues to explain what she sees on her screen and gives the measurements to the nurse.
“And she’s ours,” Riley whispers.
An overwhelming flood of emotion fills my heart to the brim. I hover close to Riley and press a kiss to her forehead. “Our little girl.”
My chest expands, full of joy, full of love. I’ve known it for a long time, but this visit only reinforces it. For Riley and our daughter, I would do anything. I would burn the world if it kept them safe. I would build a castle with walls so high, no one could ever reach them.
As I press another kiss to Riley’s forehead, it hits me that the only fear I still harbor is the fear of losing my chance with her. There’s no fucking way I can let that happen.
It’s time for me to finish that song—her song.