Chapter 30
Summer
As I predicted, there were a lot of tears when Tate left.
After nearly two weeks together it was hard to say goodbye.
Even though I know I’m going to see him in a month.
The good news is that I’m too busy to cry for long because my pie-baking business has grown by leaps and bounds. I’ve actually cut one day of my schedule at the diner so I can spend another day baking.
I’m feeling better now too, but carrying heavy trays of food is only going to get harder as time goes on.
The money from the pies makes up for one less day waiting tables, but I’ll need to make a lot more before I can quit completely.
I’m really having fun with it, though, and it feels good to focus on doing something I enjoy more than waitressing.
By the last week of September, I’m sixteen weeks pregnant and the only clothes that fit are items like leggings.
October in London will be cool during the day and chilly at night, so leggings will work for most days.
It’s finding tops to go with them that’s a battle.
I’m struggling to decide if I want clothes that are tight-fitting, showing off my baby bump, or if I’d rather buy looser fits that will disguise it.
For some reason I’m self-conscious about being pregnant.
Probably because my baby daddy—I’m still getting used to calling him my husband—is this gorgeous rockstar that has women fawning over him every night.
The fact that this was basically a marriage of convenience probably plays a part in it too.
He only married me because I got knocked up, and while I won’t deny there’s a strong connection between us, I don’t know what that means for the future.
If I were to have a miscarriage, would he stay married to me?
There are no answers to questions like that so I try to avoid negative thoughts and focus on working and getting to see him soon.
I also have an appointment with my OBGYN on the first of October, the day my health insurance kicks in. We’re going to do an ultrasound and a bunch of tests, and hopefully I’ll have both ultrasound pictures and a recording of the heartbeat to show Tate when I see him.
I’ve already started packing, agonizing over what to bring, what to wear, what shoes to wear when we’re out and about versus what to wear to the shows.
This isn’t a club tour so it’s going to be a totally different vibe than the shows I’ve already been to.
Tate told me to buy whatever I want and not to worry about money, but I always worry about money.
Pinching pennies has been part of my life since I graduated from college.
Despite how frugal I’m trying to be, I splurge on a gorgeous red top that has slits in the sleeves, a V neck that shows off my cleavage, and clings to my curves.
There’s no doubt I’m pregnant but it still looks gorgeous on.
Paired with black leggings and low-heeled boots, I think I’ll fit in backstage.
I even texted Ryleigh pictures and she agreed it looks perfect.
We’re going from London to Edinburgh to Cardiff and then my time with the band will end in Dublin. There won’t be a lot of time for sightseeing, but Tate promised we’d get to bed early so we’re able to get up early and go do touristy things before he has to be available for soundcheck.
All in all, I’m beyond excited and though I feel a little guilty about leaving my mom for so long, Dolly has it under control. I don’t like putting the burden on her because she has a business to run and a family of her own, but she assured me she doesn’t mind.
Now all I have to do is get through my doctor’s appointment, finish packing and freeze as many chocolate peanut butter pies as I have time to make so there’s still some money coming in while I’m gone.
It will take some planning, but all the extra work means being able to see Tate.
My husband.
I’m starting to like how that sounds.
* * *
Tate is waiting just outside of the security area when I get through customs in London and I run straight to his arms. He kisses me soundly, arms tight around my middle. Until I’m breathless and ready to jump on him. One thing about pregnancy—my sex drive is out of my control.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispers against my mouth.
“Me too. “
“How was the flight? Did you sleep?”
“I did. Flying first class spoiled me—how do you go back to flying coach after that?”
“Hopefully, we’ll never have to find out.” He takes my suitcase with one hand and holds my hand with the other.
“Do we have anywhere to be today?” I ask.
“Nope. I timed it so you’d arrive on a day off. In case you’re exhausted and need to sleep early or whatever.”
“I’m fine, ready to go anywhere or do anything.”
“Ryleigh made plans for all of us to go to the Tower of London this afternoon. Do you feel up to it?”
“Absolutely—I can’t wait!”
“We have time to take a little nap at the hotel, though.”
“Yeah?” I nudge him with my shoulder. “Is that code for…getting frisky?”
“I really hope so.” He squeezes my hand.
“Believe me, me too. But I have a surprise for you first.”
“Yeah?” He looks down at me curiously.
“Wait until we get into the cab.”
“I have a driver waiting.”
“Isn’t that…expensive?”
He shrugs. “A little. But this is the only time you’re going to be able to be with me on this tour, so I wanted to make it special. Especially since we didn’t get a honeymoon.”
“You’re always so thoughtful.”
“Not always. But I’m trying to be.”
“You’re doing a great job.”
We get settled in the car and I reach for my phone.
“Close your eyes,” I tell him.
“Okay.”
I open the camera on my phone and pull up the video I took of the ultrasound that has the heartbeat as well. I turn up the volume and push play. Tate is confused at first but then his eyes pop open.
“Holy shit—is that…?”
I nod. “That’s our baby’s heartbeat.”
He stares down at the phone without moving. “That’s him…or her?”
“Yup. I brought these.” I hand him the ultrasound photos.
“Oh, wow.” He’s mesmerized and hits the button to play the video a few more times as he stares at the pictures.
“It’s a boy,” he says solemnly.
I laugh. “If you say so.”
“When is that appointment?”
“Right now it’s scheduled for the week after I get back, at my twenty-week scan. I made it for early in the day so I can FaceTime you and hopefully you won’t be at soundcheck.”
“I’ll make sure I’m available.”
“I felt it kick yesterday,” I say softly.
“Really?” He immediately puts his hand on my stomach.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to feel it yet. It’s more like a fluttering in my tummy right now, not like an actual kick. He or she is still pretty small.”
“Oh, right.” He looks down. “It’s getting real, huh?”
“It is.” I cover his hand with mine. “Are you okay with how fast everything is moving? I thought we might want to check in every so often, make sure we’re on the same page, you know? Like this is our second trimester check in and then we’ll have a third trimester check in…”
“Whatever you want,” he says, his blue eyes searching my face. “Are you doing okay without me around?”
“Now that I’m only working four days at the diner, it helps. And my pie business is taking off so I’m keeping busy. But at least baking pies I can do from home, and I can sit down whenever I want.”
“Are you going to go down to three days a week?” he asks.
I hesitate. “I’d like to, but right now the extra pie business only makes up for the loss of one day at the diner. I’m getting more business but it’s not enough yet.”
“I have money,” he says. “And our next payout will be in December. Sasha says it will absolutely be close to, if not over, six figures.”
That’s a lot of money.
But I understand that he doesn’t get paid regularly, so when he gets lump sums like that we have to make it last.
“Will you be getting paid every six months?” I ask.
“Starting next year it’ll be quarterly. This year was a little wonky because the label paid for everything up front—costs to record the album, money to create merch, new equipment we needed for the show—so we had to pay them back for all of that first. We also had no way of knowing the album would go platinum.
Now it’s almost double platinum, so hopefully, money won’t be an issue going forward. ”
“But you’re never going to know how much you’re going to make, right?”
“Not exactly, no, but assuming things continue at the rate it’s going—we’ll start making enough to start investing and such. Angus already has a December meeting set up with his financial advisor for all of us because we need to be prepared for that.”
“I see.”
“Speaking of which, what would you think about spending Christmas in Minneapolis?”
“I don’t know,” I say carefully. “I always spend Christmas morning with Mom and then I work Christmas night so the people with kids can be with their families.”
“You’ll be six months by then,” he says. “You may not be able to work by yourself anymore.”
Ugh.
I can’t even think about that.
Dolly counts on me. Pays me a higher hourly wage because I can handle the place on my own.
He must sense my discomfort because he slides his arm around my shoulders and kisses the side of my face.
“We can talk about it later, okay? Just something to think about. If not, I’ll come to you. Don’t worry.”
For once, I’m going to take him at his word.
I’m essentially on my honeymoon—all I want to think about is my incredibly hot, sweet husband.