Текст книги "Fade to Red"

Автор книги: Willow Aster

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He laughed again as the song ended. She yanked her hand away from his and before Anthony could start the song from the top again, Beckham said, all humor gone, “Why do you hate me so much?”

The music picked up again and they went through every move, not tearing their eyes away from the other. The tension was excruciating, but neither could look away.

When he pulled her tight to him this time, he said softly, “I asked you a question.”

Before she was swung out into a twirl, she replied, “It would take too long to tell you all the reasons.”

A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes and then he laughed the full-on laugh that had never failed to charm her.

“Are you joking? Am I being pranked? If so you are cracking me up!” His laughter faded away as he looked carefully at her. “Are you always this hateful?”

Roxie ignored him and concentrated on the rest of the song. He was gonna bust her vibe if he didn’t shut up already. She thought ignoring him would make him mad, but it seemed like he just got more and more amused by her. He turned up the sex about ten more decibels and when he pulled her in for the last cross-body hold, she gasped when she felt him against her back.

Hard and substantial, just like she remembered.

Beckham’s alarm went off at a very crucial part in his dream. Roxie was naked under him and she was looking up at him smiling. Like she adored him. Her long legs were wrapped around him and…

He hit snooze and willed himself to go back to the dream.

He ran his fingers through her hair and gave it a little tug. It was so short, it made her neck scream to be kissed. Her eyes closed as his tongue trailed down that pale neck and teased her breasts…

Shit! He hit the snooze again.

This time he was awake and Roxie’s true features came into focus. She wasn’t skewed like she’d been in the dream. Now her hair splayed out on the pillow as he imagined her grinning up at him while he drove into her.

Her eyes didn’t look at him nearly as adoringly as they had in his dream. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and change them from scorn to adoration.

Sick bastard, he thought later as he went into the bathroom, feeling much better. You need a woman. Bad.

At least now maybe he wouldn’t alarm her with his traitor dick every time she got near him. He’d managed to hide it from everyone but Roxie the day before. Just add one more huge notch to his growing list of embarrassments where she was concerned.

She looked away, as if the thought of even seeing him made her want to cease living. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. And he couldn’t wait to touch her again. Although he’d have to start chanting “Grandmother, grandmother, grandmother!” to avoid embarrassing himself with her again. This morning’s dream only made him more aware of her.

It wasn’t like she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He’d been with many more beautiful, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember who. She had such an expressive face. Thick eyebrows, wide-set, eyes—sometimes green, sometimes blue—that pulled you in and spat you out, thick blonde hair so long it made you want to get lost in it, and pale, smooth skin; she didn’t fit the typical model mold he’d dated. He couldn’t remember ever being so interested in a face, though. Those lips. And then the way she moved so gracefully. Her body was made to be a dancer, lean and sculpted. Her breasts were perfect, not too big, not too little. His gut clenched and he groaned inside. One shoulder was exposed, showing her hot pink sports bra. Her nipples poked through the shirt like there was nothing that would hold them back. She turned around to put her bag down and he saw her ass in yoga pants for the very first time. The baggie sweats had been nice the day before, but fuck him, these were like a second skin.

Sweet almighty Mary and Joseph! He was desperate. Mother Teresa’s great-grandmother!

It was like a work of art, the Michelangelo of booty. Tight and juicy.

Yeah, he was already coming up with a melody. Her ass was what songs were made of … the songs he’d written in middle school. He’d never claimed to be the most mature person out there anyway.

She turned around and his cheeks lit on fire. He knew for a fact no woman had ever made him blush, whether he was being an asshole or not. Back in his heyday of women, not so long ago, he’d actually been quite smooth. So there had to be some sort of spell she’d weaved on him.

He pulled the coffee he’d bought for her out from behind his back and it was the brightest her eyes had gotten so far. Ah—Miss Taylor has a weakness! He made note to bring her coffee for every early morning rehearsal they had together.

She snatched it out of his hands. Greedy.

He raised an eyebrow at her aggressiveness.

“Thanks,” she said with her raspy voice. It was always husky, but sounded especially so that early in the morning.

He smiled and her eyes softened. Just a touch, but enough to make him breathe easier. “Thanks for coming out so early. I know you didn’t really commit to giving up your weekends, at least not this early in rehearsals. You’re a quick learner, we’ll have it in no time, I promise.”

“It’s fine,” she said softly. “Thanks for this opportunity.”

He paused, not expecting that. Maybe she was warming up to him…

“Just keep your weapon away from me,” she added, with a raised eyebrow.

No, she hadn’t warmed up.

Anthony walked in, looking like he hadn’t slept in a week. He probably hadn’t. David apparently hadn’t taken the breakup well.

“You all right?” Beckham asked.

Anthony lowered his fedora. “Ugh, don’t ask. When I get home from work every day, David starts calling every ten minutes. I finally picked up last night at midnight, just to tell him to never call again. We ended up talking until three. He said he never meant to hurt me … that he was just having a mini what-am-I-doing-with-my-life crisis and acting out.” He said it all so matter-of-fact, as if it were nothing, but his lower lip trembled a little.

Roxie put her hand on his arm. “Men suck. I’m sorry.”

Anthony smiled at her. “Don’t they? Thank you, hon. Come on, let’s get to work.”

If the day before had been a disaster where Beckham’s focus was concerned, this rehearsal was a thousand times worse. Beckham and Anthony had worked out the choreography weeks before; Beckham knew the material inside and out. But he kept getting distracted by Roxie. The song was all about seduction and the way she looked at him as they moved—he could have sworn she was seducing him.

He closed his eyes to shake it off and imagined her with short hair again. So weird. When he opened them, her long hair was whipping around in her ponytail. He squinted his eyes. Those lips, her beautiful neck, blue-green eyes staring up at him. She twisted gracefully around him and then he grabbed her waist and held her close, as their hips rocked in time with the slow, but driving tempo.

“Have I met you before, Roxie?” He stared at her, curious.

She went completely still. Her face went white, and she turned around quickly, but he’d already seen the look. She stalked over to her water bottle and kept her back to him. He walked behind her and put a hand on her back. She jumped.

“Everything okay? Need a break?” Anthony asked from across the room.

Roxie nodded and this time she did run out of the room.

What the hell? This girl was all kinds of unpredictable. He shrugged at Anthony and paced the stage as they waited for her to come back.

When ten minutes went by and she still hadn’t returned, Beckham told Anthony he’d go look for her. He looked everywhere. There was no sign of her. Finally, he went outside and saw her sitting in her car. He knocked on her window. She jumped again.

“Sorry!” he yelled. He opened her door and squatted down so he could see her better. “What’s going on, Rox?”

She turned to face him and he froze when he saw she was crying.

“What’s wrong?”

“I made a mistake coming here. I-I can’t … I can’t do it,” she whispered.

“Roxie, you’re the best dancer we have. You can totally do this.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard, trying to convince her he meant it. He meant it with a force that surprised him. The thought of her leaving had him panicked.

“I really can’t.” She shook her head and then leaned her forehead on the steering wheel. She was still for a couple of minutes and when she lifted her head, she looked determined. “I am so sorry to do this, but I need to get out of the tour. I-I’m so grateful you gave me a chance, but I made a huge mistake. Please, please let me out of the contract. I know it’s a huge inconvenience, but it’s still early enough … there are so many dancers that would jump at this opportunity.”

“I want you,” he said sincerely. “Roxie, look at me.” She didn’t, so he kept talking. “We need you—you’re the one who makes it all come alive out there. You’ve gotta know that with that attitude you must be a brilliant dancer to still be here.” He grinned, but it dropped when he saw another tear falling down her cheek. “We can’t lose you.” He felt like he was talking to a board. “What’s going on here? Why do you want to leave? I would send everyone else home before you!”

Roxie narrowed her eyes. “My, how things have changed…” she said, her tone caustic now.

“What do you mean?” He was beginning to get nervous. She didn’t answer. He looked at her for a long time. “Wait—was it because I asked if we’d met before? Have we?”

She pulled her head back and leaned it against the headrest. “Oh, this is so fucking rich. I can’t believe you. Either you’re fucking stupid or the biggest fucking jerk that ever lived.”

Beckham stood up, angry now. She was swinging his emotions around like a game of tetherball.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I would be glad to listen if you’ll explain it to me.”

“Look, I can take a lot of things, but don’t make me out for the fool. If you recognized me, you should have just said so from the beginning.” She looked at him then and he nearly staggered to his knees from the daggers.

“I didn’t recognize you!” he said quietly. “I was drawn to you the moment I saw you, but I didn’t know we’d met before. I still don’t know w-”

She practically choked on a laugh and a sob. “I don’t know why I ever thought I could make this work. It was a stupid, stupid idea.” She started up the car. “I’ve gotta go.”

He grabbed the door before she could shut it.

“Please stay. I’m sorry—I don’t know what I did to make you so angry, but I promise I’ll make it up to you. I need you on this tour.”

She wiped her face and nodded once. He backed away from the car and she slammed the door. Her tires squealed as she drove out of the parking lot.

Chloe and Leo were outside when Roxie pulled up, and they both came running when they saw her crying.

“Why you cryin’, Mommy?” Leo wrapped his arms around her leg and looked up at her with the sweetest eyes.

“I’m just tired and frustrated,” she told him. “And I needed to see my boy.”

Leo hugged her harder. “Here I am.”

“Here you are.” She hugged him tighter.

Chloe studied her and finally came over to hug her too. “Well, we’re glad to see you. We were gonna go to the beach as soon as you got home. Want to head out soon?”

Roxie nodded. “Sounds good.”

Leo reached up for Roxie to pick him up. He put his hands on either side of her face and peered at her carefully. “You feelin’ better?”

“I am now.”

“Good. Wanna hear a joke?”

“Of course.”

“’K … what did the cat ask the zombie?” He bit his bottom lip to keep from yelling out the punchline.

“Hmm … I don’t know. What?”

“Meow’s life?” He’d started laughing before he got it all the way out.

“Meow’s life?” Roxie pulled back, looking in Leo’s eyes.

He stopped laughing but couldn’t stop grinning. “Yeah, you know, like … how’s life? Meow’s life … ’cept zombies are already dead.” His lisp was extra heavy when he got excited.

“Wow, that’s actually a pretty good one, Leo.”

The beach calmed Roxie more than she’d thought possible. When she left Beckham, she was strung so tight, every muscle felt jittery. Now, just looking out at the endless waves and feeling so incredibly small—it made her anger slowly fade away into the tide. She would get back to hating Beckham again tomorrow, but for now, she welcomed the peace.

They found a spot to lay their blanket and stretched out. Leo barely ran in the water and quickly hightailed it back to their towel, teeth chattering. The cold water always shocked him, but he kept going back in for more.

“So what happened?” Chloe asked.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Roxie groaned.

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of it.” Chloe poked Roxie in the side.

“He asked if we’d met before,” Roxie whispered.

“Shit!”

Of course that’s when Leo surprised them by running back to get warm.

“What’d you say, Auntie?” Leo’s head whipped around faster than lightning.

“I said, ‘Sit!’ Come on, sit by me and I’ll warm you up!” She looked at Roxie guiltily.

“Hmm, yeah,” Leo said, but he went and sat by her anyway.

Roxie flicked Chloe in the arm. Leo sat for all of a minute and then ran back to the water.

“What did you say back?” Chloe stared at Roxie, who was watching Leo jump up and down in an inch of water.

“I got out of there … after I basically got stuck on the f-word and told him all the ways he was fucking stupid.”

“No! What did he do?”

“He apologized for whatever he’d done to make me angry and asked me not to leave the tour.”

“Wait—you’re thinking of leaving? No, Rox. You have to do this.” She grabbed Roxie’s arm and forced her to look at her. “I know this is so hard, but you’ve done the hardest part—seeing him again. Now that you’ve gotten past that initial shock, you have to go all the way. We’ll finally get ahead a little bit. You’ve worked so hard, for so long. There’s no other way you can make money like this—not any time soon, anyway. And this is the safest I’ve felt since I met Alex. I didn’t even realize until being away from him this long, how much I was still fearful that he was around every corner…”

Roxie put her arm around Chloe. “I’m so relieved you got away from him. You seem more like yourself than you have in a really long time.”

Chloe leaned her head on Roxie’s shoulder. “I feel more like myself,” she admitted. “I let him control me far too long. I mean, I get why it was easy for him to control me when we first started dating—I was 14. Remind me one day not to let my daughter date that early.” Her laugh choked in her throat and sounded painful. She sat up and looked at Roxie. “I’m embarrassed, Rox. I wasted so much time with an abusive boyfriend. I never thought I’d let someone … hurt me. I’m the baby of the family—you guys have loved me my whole life. Why would I put up with that trash?”

“He lied to you, made you think he loved you one minute, and then turned on you after you trusted him,” Roxie said softly. “It happens all the time, Chlo-bo. Just be so grateful that you got out. You took control.”

“So can you, Rox. You’re controlling this situation for your son and his future. You can do this. It’s a really huge deal that you got in to begin with … you can’t give up now.”

“He just … Beckham’s very…” Roxie couldn’t get out a complete thought, so she gave up trying. “We’d be okay without the money. We’ve gotten by before this.”

“Barely. And do you really want to live in your tiny apartment the rest of your life?” Chloe snapped.

“Well, no, but … being around Beckham was a lot harder than I expected, too. And I’m paired up with him, Chloe! I never expected that when I tried out. I thought I’d be in a big group of other dancers and that I might not even have to deal with him! And I’m being awful—I should have been fired a couple of times already. It’s mortifying, really, how awful I become when I’m around him!”

Leo came back then and they stopped talking about it. They enjoyed the rest of their day at the beach and Roxie tried to put Beckham out of her mind completely. When they got back home, she checked her voicemail and there was a message from Anthony. He told her he expected her there the next morning for the full rehearsal with Beckham.

At the end of the message, he said, “Beckham said it was his fault you left this morning, so I’ll let you off the hook. This time. But there better not be a next time. If you have an issue, come to me directly and we’ll work it out.”

The next morning on the way to rehearsal she made up her mind to stick it out. No matter how intense things got with Beckham, no matter how much she cringed every time she saw him, no matter how her insides liquified every time he touched her. She was doing this for Leo. He deserved so much more than she’d been able to give him.

It physically hurt her to walk in that morning; her pride was sweating through her pores, but she held her head high. She was a few minutes early, but Beckham and Anthony were already there. She looked them both in the eye and nodded at Anthony.

“I shouldn’t have left without telling you. It won’t happen again.”

“Okay. We’ll forget about it and move forward. You ready to work? Thousands of girls would kill to be in your spot,” he reminded her.

“I’m ready.”

Beckham handed her a coffee and she mumbled her thanks. She took as many gulps as she could before they got started and then popped some gum in her mouth. She might hate him, but she still wanted to smell decent when she was grinding up against him.

She barely looked at Beckham, but as soon as the music started and they began to move together, the magic began. Their chemistry was undeniable.

Beckham began showing up at all the rehearsals. And she’d thought he might stay to himself a little, but he was always in the center of everything. He had an easy way with everyone else. In the middle of lunch one day, he started doing imitations from Harry Potter and had it down perfectly.

He was in the middle of going back and forth between Dumbledore and Snape:

“He has her eyes…”

(A gasp from Snape.)

“If you truly loved her…”

“No one can ever know…”

He nailed it and Roxie started laughing along with everyone else. He noticed her laughing and cut off in mid-sentence, his cheeks suddenly tinging with pink. She quickly stopped and the hurt that briefly crossed his eyes made Roxie’s stomach clench with guilt. The rest of the week she went home for lunch.

Anthony had asked her to meet every weekend so far and each time she agreed without any argument. When she walked in, Beckham’s eyes burned on her like they had every day for weeks now. He tentatively gave her the coffee he’d continued to bring and she quietly thanked him. This time, though, his hand brushed against hers when he handed it to her. She looked up quickly and almost dropped the coffee.

“When am I gonna win you over, Roxie Taylor?” he asked quietly.

“Never,” she replied.

He laughed nervously. “Well, at least you’re honest. I’d like to talk to you after the rehearsal today. You run out of here so fast every day, I can’t seem to get to the bottom of what I’ve done to make you despise me.”

She studied him.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’m thinking that you’re not used to someone not falling all over themselves just because they’re near you.”

He blinked and bit his lip, a grin just under the surface. “You’re right. I’m not. Can I be honest now?” He raised his eyebrows and leaned in when she didn’t answer. “It gets annoying.”

She rolled her eyes just as Anthony started the music. Today she was dancing on her own. It was a song where Beckham was supposed to stand like stone while she tried to ‘win back his affection’ with her dance. Anthony talked over what he wanted from her, showing her specifically in some sections, but then letting her take it from there. It was all about the emotion. She put every ounce of heartache and loss she’d felt, every bit of anger and also the longing…

When the song ended, the room was silent. Roxie tried to discreetly wipe the tear that had fallen toward the end. She’d gotten too caught up in it.

“Wow,” Anthony finally spoke. “Do you think you can do that every night? That was flawless.”

They wrapped it up quickly and Roxie was on the way to her car when Beckham stepped beside her. When they reached her car, he moved in front of her car door.

“Remember I wanted to talk?”

“I never agreed to that.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m just getting tired of this … animosity you seem to have toward me. What have I done?”

“If you don’t remember, I’m not going to remind you!” she snapped.

“I just need to know.” His chest rose while he stared at her. “Did we … sleep together?” he asked, cringing.

She tightened her ponytail and put her hands on her hips. “Why does it matter?” she finally said.

“So we did,” he groaned.

To her horror, tears welled up in her eyes. Oh God, she was making such a fool out of herself.

“Let me go, Beckham. I’m tired. I just wanna go home.”

He moved, but touched her shoulder. “Roxie. I-just … I’m sorry.”

She held her hand up for him to back off and he did. And once again, he watched her car squeal out of the parking lot.

Ian took his band with him the next time he went to the warehouse. The guys were pumped about the new tour development. Beckham had some of the country’s best musicians—players Ian and his guys couldn’t wait to mesh with on the road. This collaboration felt like a huge step up in each one of their careers. Donny was happiest of all. During Ian’s last two visits, he’d taken credit for what he liked to call the ‘best collaboration of the decade’ and Ian gladly let him. He was glad to distract Donny with something besides chemo.

“Who needs groupies when there’s all this eye candy?” Chris said when they walked inside.

Aaron was quick to agree. Charlie had a girlfriend, but his eyes were still wide as he took in the dancers and singers rehearsing.

“You didn’t tell us, man,” Chris nudged Ian.

He shrugged. Honestly, he hadn’t thought much more beyond the fact that they danced well, especially the girl Beckham was dancing with—Ian couldn’t remember her name. He grinned when he saw the way Beck looked at her. The guy wasn’t kidding—he had it bad.

“I knew you were whipped, but have you become blind? Jeez, Ian, look how flexible they are…” Aaron groaned.

He thought about Sparrow doing yoga and wished he was home. She’d been working on it for a year and a half and had actually gotten damn good. It had been comical at first, although he’d tried hard as hell not to laugh. She nearly gave up, due to how hard it was, being a bit physically challenged in the balance/tripping on nothing department. She stayed with it, though, and it had helped her immensely—she rarely got bruises now from bumping into everything, and she hadn’t fallen in over a year. It became their challenge to see if she could hold her pose while he teased her body in every way possible. He knew all about flexible.

The guys teased Ian all the time about being Sparrow-whipped. He knew it was true and he owned it with pride. There was no other woman for him, period. He didn’t believe in the saying, ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater’, because the very core of his heart had changed. The broken parts that made him who he was had been welded back together. The scars were there to make him appreciate what he had, but new skin had grown in its place. He didn’t view women the way he used to. They still came on to him all the time—it was part of the business—but he had no emptiness to fill, nothing to prove. That made all the difference. Sparrow made all the difference. You didn’t lose the love of your life and then get her back and not learn something from it.

The song ended and Beckham slowly backed away from the girl, like he hated to do it. He turned toward Ian, but it took a minute before his eyes focused. Ian’s laugh seemed to shake him out of the fog.

“Ian, come meet everyone,” Beckham said, motioning them forward. He walked toward them too, holding out his hand to Ian and pounding his back. “Sexiest Man Alive right here, people!” he yelled, laughing.

Ian gave his hair a yank and made a face. “So how does it work—do you suddenly stop being sexiest when someone else is selected? Am I gonna need therapy when that happens?”

“It’s why I’ve won so many times,” Beckham teased. “They see how down I get about losing the title and slap it on me again.”

Ian introduced Beck to the guys, who were sufficiently awed, and then Beck took them to meet the crew. He met the band leader, Hollis, first. Great guy. Everyone was friendly, some seemed especially star-struck, which cracked up both Beck and Ian. Beck’s sister, Sierra, shook when she met him. Ian elbowed Beck when he teased her about it. There was a dancer, Brooke, who seemed like trouble. She did a thing with her tongue when they were introduced, which Ian thought might be some sort of tick or something, but then she did a weird stroke with her finger down the middle of his palm when they shook hands. He dropped her hand like it burned and moved on. Eventually, Beck reached Roxie. He touched her shoulder and she stiffened, moving away from him and closer to Ian.

Shit. Ian watched Beck’s face drop and tried to lighten the situation. He shook her hand and then motioned between the two of them.

“The two of you make it look easy up there. Wish I had your moves, man.” He nodded at Beckham. “It’s a good thing I have my guitar to hide behind. Saves everyone the pain.”

“We’ll have to work on that, get you out of your comfort zone.” Beckham grinned. “Anthony’s a great teacher, aren’t you, Anthony?”

Anthony shot Beckham a look and then smiled at Ian, gripping his hand. “I would be honored to work with you. I love all your music. I listen to your album all the time!” He realized he was still shaking Ian’s hand and stopped, but didn’t let go.

“Thank you so much,” Ian said. “And I’d be honored if you’d help me up my game—I need to take Sparrow dancing more.”

“She is beautiful, just beautiful,” Anthony gushed. Finally, he let go of Ian’s hand.

“Inside and out,” Ian said. “She is it for me.”

He looked at the girl Brooke when he said this. She’d inched closer and closer to him, until her shoulder pressed into his. He backed up and the motion made her weave ever so slightly. She put her hand on her hip and steadied, not sure what to make of him. Good. He’d probably have to spell it out for her at some point, but hopefully not today. He wanted to at least get through this first introduction with everyone.

“You’ll meet the rest of the crew in later rehearsals. By the time we go on the road, we’ll have double this.”

“Wow, this already seems like a lot of people,” Chris said.

“Yeah, large crew.” Beckham wiped a hand over his face and cracked his neck. He gave them a tired smile. “We were just getting ready to break for lunch. You got here just in time.” He put an arm over Ian’s shoulders. “I’d like to go over some of our ideas with Hollis and Anthony … your guys should sit with us too. I know you and I have talked it to death, but I’d like both bands to hear from you how you see them fitting into your sets, and vice versa.”

Ian reached over and pulled at one of Beck’s waves that had shaped into a curl.

“Great hair, man. Don’t let Sparrow get ahold of this. I’ll be out of a wife.” The guys around them laughed and Ian talked on, oblivious. “You are inspiring me already, Beck. Organization is not my strong suit. I can talk music all day, though, so let’s get to it.”

Anthony had taken Ian seriously about the dancing and scheduled him to come to some of the choreography rehearsals. He still didn’t feel very comfortable dancing with these professionals, but Anthony insisted he looked ‘fabulous’ and that no one would ever know he was nervous. Once Ian got more comfortable, Anthony scheduled one-on-one rehearsals for a couple of Ian’s songs. He’d come to Ian all excited after the last rehearsal.

“I have an idea for your song, ‘True Love Story’,” he said, talking a mile a minute.

“Lay it on me,” Ian said.

“I think Sparrow should come out and dance with you on this,” Anthony pressed his lips together and then put his fist to his mouth, his eyebrows creased together in what appeared to be bliss or pain. “Can you imagine? The audience. Will. Lose. It.”

“Oh, I don’t know. She’s … not one for big crowds, kinda shy…”

“Just let me talk to her about it,” Anthony pleaded. “I have the vision. I can already see what she needs to wear…”

“She’ll want to wear a turtleneck to cover her splotches.” Ian chuckled.

“What?”

“Sure, ask her. I’ll see if she’ll come sometime this week.”

Sparrow and the pumpkin were going with him to rehearsal that morning, their first time to meet everyone. He was excited to show them off. Sparrow needed the lift—they’d gotten everything moved into storage and were now living in their bus. They’d parked it on their new land. Ian had tried to convince her that they should at least find a furnished condo until they went on the road, but she wanted to put all their income toward the new house. She swore she was fine, but he knew she hadn’t been writing as much, wasn’t sleeping great, and she might not want to admit it, but he could tell she was a little overwhelmed being on the bus with a baby full-time.

“It’ll be good practice for the next year,” she’d said.

“It means we’ll be on the bus longer than a year…”

“Which will make us all the more grateful when we finally move into our new house.”

He couldn’t argue with that logic, but he wanted to make sure she got out more. The paparazzi made her nervous—rightfully so—and she didn’t venture out much on her own. She FaceTimed Tessa and her parents a lot, but that wasn’t the same as having friends nearby to hang out with … especially as a new mom.

They pulled into the parking lot and he patted her hand. “They love you already,” he told her.

She gave him a nervous smile and tugged on her black short shorts.

“You look sexy as hell,” he whispered, leaning over to kiss her.

“There’s that baby girl!” Vanessa squealed.

Everyone crowded around when they saw the girls were with him. He’d been showing them pictures of Journey for weeks now. He introduced everyone to Sparrow. Beckham gave her a quick hug and Journey a kiss. She reached out and tugged on his hair, getting such a laugh from everyone, she jumped and her face crinkled into a cry. She buried her face in Sparrow’s neck and peeked back out at all the faces. Beckham played peekaboo with her until she was laughing again and pretty soon when he reached out to hold her she went to him.