I lie on my bed, with my hands behind my head, replaying the last few days over and over in my head. Now that the tour is over, albeit cut short, reality is jumping up and down, reminding me that school is about to start, that I have to be a responsible parent. My circle of friends, people I’ve depended on for so long, are living their lives in L.A. while Quinn and I live the high life in Beaumont. I shouldn’t have to remind myself that this is what I wanted. I just thought things would be different.
Hell, I don’t know what I thought, but definitely not this. I’m not gonna lie, I want her in my bed at night. I want to wake up and find her cooking breakfast for our kids. I want to come home at night and have everyone gathering around the table for dinner. But that’s not going to happen. She’s made herself very clear and I can’t continue putting myself out there for the rejection. A man can only take so much in his lifetime.
I look at the clock and sigh heavily. This year I’m taking Quinn to buy his school supplies. Usually my mom, or Meghan, his nanny, has done it and now it’s my turn. It’s time for me to grow up, I guess. I get up, get dressed and slip into my boots, looking down at my attire. I know Katelyn snubs her nose at the way I look. I’ve seen her do it and that’s fine. I’m not going to change for her or anyone. I like my t-shirts, khaki shorts, beanie and either my boots or Vans. Hell, I’ve been known to wear Chucks before. Aren’t those supposed to be considered high-class-guy-fashion or something?
I knock on Quinn’s door and open it, sticking my head inside. He’s sitting in his beanbag chair playing in his Xbox.
“Wanna go school shopping?”
“Sure,” he says as he powers down his console. It’s a proud dad moment when he doesn’t argue or roll his eyes. I know those days are coming and honestly, I don’t know what I’ll do the first time he smarts off to me. He walks ahead, his clothes matching mine, everything except for the hat. He likes to keep his hair styled, something I never did at his age.
Quinn is nothing like me. He’s confident and self-assured, making friends easily. I was shy and awkward, always alone, never fitting in. I thank my lucky stars that he’s different from me. I’m not sure how’d I’d handle things if he had a childhood like I did.
We walk to our car; the non-descript family car that I bought when we moved here so we wouldn’t draw unwanted attention with something flashy. I still have my motorcycle in the garage, but haven’t really taken it out much, aside from a few rides with Liam. I’m trying to live a normal life, one away from the balance in my checkbook, and give Quinn a quiet life, which is why I let Meghan go and didn’t ask her to move with us. Quinn has spent far too much time in her care because of my job, and now Liam’s provided me an opportunity to be home more.
Driving into town, I can’t help but look over at him while he watches the scenery pass him by. He’s well adjusted and acts like nothing bothers him and I want to believe that, but sometimes question if he needs something else, mainly a mom. Not that I’m going to run out and get married, but maybe bringing Meghan here is an option.
I pull into the parking lot of the mall and look around at all the other parents taking their kids shopping. Now I know why I never cared when my mom took Quinn shopping. This place is nuts.
“Grandma sent me a list of things she usually buys you. She didn’t tell me the mall would be like this, though.”
Quinn starts to laugh as he gets out of the car. I follow, locking it behind us. “It’s not so bad. Grandma always bought me ice cream though.” He looks up at me and bats his eyes.
I shake my head. “Of course she did,” I say as I throw my arm around him. We walk toward the lion’s den, the James men, brave… and incredibly stupid.
Quinn walks from store to store with me following behind, carrying his bags. I never knew my son was such a shopper; that definitely has to be Yvie rubbing off on him. I can’t remember a time when I’d step foot in a shopping center. They scare me. People just stare at me. We manage to get everything on my mom’s list and then some.
“Hey, Dad?”
“What’s up, bud?”
“Are you and Katelyn going to be boyfriend and girlfriend?”
I put the boots back on the shelf and try to compose my thoughts. This is exactly why I’ve never brought anyone home. I don’t want Quinn getting attached to anyone. Katelyn’s around because she works for the band and because of Liam and Josie, but he knows I like her.
“Nah, I don’t think so.”
I watch as his face drops.
“Come on, let’s go get some lunch and we’ll talk about it.” I put my hand on his shoulder and guide us out of the store. I nod at the cashier when we pass and turn toward the food court. We order from the staple of every mall food court, McDonald’s, and find a place to sit that can accommodate our bags. I’m thankful that no one is paying enough attention to notice me. I’m not in the mood to sign autographs today.
“Do you ever talk to Elle or Peyton?”
Quinn shrugs. “Not really. Peyton is always with Noah, but she doesn’t talk much.”
“You know that their dad died last year, right?”
He nods as he sticks a french fry in his mouth. “Yeah, Noah talks about Mason all the time. It’s sad that they lost their dad.”
“It is, I agree, and sometimes it’s hard for people to move on after they’ve lost someone they love so much.”
“Is that why Peyton is always upset?”
I nod. “I think so. From what Liam has told me, Peyton and her dad were very close and she’s having trouble adjusting.”
Quinn watches some of the people around us. He picks at his lunch, not really engaging in eating it.
“You okay?”
He shrugs. “I kinda thought Katelyn was going to be my mom. I saw you guys together and know you like her. I don’t know. Noah is always talking about great it is to have two parents and I know you like her and I think she likes you. I just thought…” His voice carries off while he plays with the wrapper from his straw. He doesn’t look me in the eyes, but down at his hands.
“What if he’s not mine?” I continue to pace. I was counting my steps, but lost count after five thousand.
“Of course he’s yours, Harrison, he looks just like you.”
I roll my eyes and pull on my lip ring. “He looks like the old man next door, doesn’t make him mine.”
My mom stands, setting Quinn – that’s the name I gave him – on her shoulder. She rubs his back, soothing him, not that’s he’s crying but he likes that.
“What if she comes back and takes him away?”
“Harrison,” mom steps closer and puts her hand on my arm. “I remember a day, a few months back, when you wouldn’t even look inside his car seat and now you’re worried she’s going to come back?”
I shrug. “He’s my life, I love him.”
Tears glisten in her eyes. I have to look away. I hate when she cries. It only took a day, which in my opinion was far too long, before I picked him up. I didn’t know what I was doing. He was crying and rocking him wasn’t working so I took a chance and the moment he nuzzled into my neck, I was a goner.
“He’s yours, sweetie.”
I don’t believe her. Nothing good can come of my lawyer calling me and telling me I need to come down. It’s been six-weeks since we took the test. The longest weeks of my life wondering if he’s mine and watching out the window to see if she’d be back.
“Mr. James,” I turn when my name is called. My body turns cold. I take a deep breath and stare down the hall that leads to my lawyer. To a man who holds my future in his hands. My mom pushes me forward. My steps are tentative as I drag my feet and follow behind her. Quinn, still on her shoulder, looks at me. His toothless smile making my steps just a bit faster. For months I’ve held him in my arms, waiting for this moment. Praying that a simple piece of paper will confirm what my heart feels, that he’s mine.
My mom sits. I choose to stand behind her, near the door for a quick escape. My palms sweat and my heart races. I think I’d rather listen to him cry for hours than sit in here and wait for a short man with beady eyes tells me my fate. My mom looks over her shoulder and reaches for my hand, holding it for reassurance.
“Mr. James,” he says as he shuffles paper back and forth on his desk. Shouldn’t he be ready? He called me and asked me to come in. You’d think everything would be in an orderly fashion. “I trust your day is going well.”
“It’s fine,” I reply.
“Okay, well I have the results here and also another matter we need to discuss.”
I roll my neck, trying to loosen up my nerves. He picks up the stack of papers and taps them against his oversized desk. He knows I’m paying him by the hour, that’s why he’s stalling.
He leans back in his chair, holding a single sheet of paper in the right light so I can see print, but I’m unable to make out the words.
“In my hand, Mr. James, are the paternity results that you requested.”
“Okay,” I say, trying to control my shaking leg. I want to reach across the desk and rip that paper out of his hand and read it. Quinn squeals, catching my attention. I rub my hand on top of his head, his baby fine hair standing on end. He puts his chubby hand in his mouth and start sucking.
“The child known as Quinn James is yours. You’re ninety-nine point nine percent his father.”
I bend over and let out the breath I had been holding. My mom rubs my back as I fight back the sob that is threatening to take over. Five months ago when he showed up, I didn’t want him, but now I’d never let him go. He’s my son.
“I have more news,” my lawyer says. I stand up and give him a slight headshake for him to continue. “Miss Tucker has been located,” he says as he turns back to his desk. I freeze at the one name that can change anything. He sets his hands in front of him, his fingers forming a tent much like my guidance counselor at school when he’d speak to my mom about me not being social enough for his liking.
My lawyer may be pissing me off, but he’s been very upfront with my rights. Alicia can come back and take Quinn from me. All she has to do is claim some type of depression shit and I’d lose my son. He says the courts side with the mothers first and listen to the father’s later. I don’t want that.
“And?” I encourage him to continue. I need to know. I need to hear the words out of his mouth.
He extends his hand, holding a piece of paper.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Miss Tucker has signed away her parental rights. Quinn is yours and available for adoption by your wife when you choose to marry.”
“I’m never getting married,” I mumble as I read over the document saying she’s relinquishing all her parental rights. “He’s mine?”
“He’s yours, honey,” my mom says. She’s crying into my shoulder, but I know they’re happy tears because I’m shedding them as well.
“He’s mine.”
“Do you miss Meghan? If you do, I can call her and see if she’ll move here.” Maybe moving away from all the women in his life wasn’t the smartest thing to do. I didn’t think he would need them. Maybe I don’t know what an eight-year-old needs.
“No, it’s okay. I just…” he shrugs again. I reach forward and still his hand with mine. He looks up. I raise my eyebrow, waiting for him to answer me. “I like Katelyn. She’s nice to me.”
I sit back and study my son… the matchmaker, who knew? I like… no I fucking love that she’s nice to him and nothing would make me happier than for her give us a chance. I look out into the courtyard and watch a few people while I compose my thoughts. Dads and moms with their kids all getting ready for school, and here I am living the single life because I’m afraid to love anyone, except her. There’s something about her and I don’t know if I can say it’s just one thing. I love her hair, her eyes, or maybe it’s the way her lip curls when she’s really happy. She doesn’t know that I watch her like I do. That I take in her presence every chance I get.
I don’t know how to answer my son. For the first time ever, I’m going to clam up and keep my thoughts to myself for fear of what I might say. “Come on, let’s go to Noah’s. You can play and I can work for a bit.”
Quinn cleans up and carries the tray to the garbage can. He walks a bit slower. He’s either tired or thinks he’s done something to upset me. I bump him lightly, earning a grin, one that hasn’t changed from when he was a baby.
I can’t get Quinn’s comments out of my head. Pounding on the drums doesn’t do anything to alleviate my stress either. Every time I close my eyes I see her beneath me and hate that it’s all in my imagination. I need to get over her, to move on and get her out of my system.
The song that I had been working on during the tour is on replay in my mind. I pull the lyrics out of my pocket and pick up a pen. I know Liam has written songs about Josie and continues to do so. He says it’s one of the best things about them. He writes and sings to her and she’s instantly dropping her panties for him. Not that I want Katelyn to do that… right away, but it would be nice for the hot and cold to stop. I feel her heart race when we’re together, I know she wants it, but refuses to see that we can be anything more than what we are. Maybe if she doesn’t want to see how I feel, my words can convince. Maybe if she hears words from my heart about how I feel, those are from me and meant for her, she’ll stop and think about what we could be together.
“What are you working on?”
I spin on my stool to find Liam picking up his guitar. There’s no point in hiding the lyrics from him any longer, not if I want Katelyn to hear them. I hand him the paper, he takes it and starts moving his head up and down. He can already hear himself singing the words.
“When did you write this?”
“That night after the bar.”
“This is really good. Want to give it a go?”
“I don’t know. It’s about…” I shake my head and pick up my drumsticks. “I like her. Quinn likes her. I don’t know what to do.”
“She’ll come around and if she doesn’t, move on. Her loss.”
He strums his guitar and starts with the first line. He writes down some notes and starts over until he’s found a melody that will work.
“Why the change of heart?” I ask.
“I’ve known Katelyn for a long time, but have spent all my adult life with you. I want to see you happy and if it’s her, great and if not, great. But I’m not going to get in the middle. I’ll just encourage. Speaking of, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Katelyn,” he says without taking his eyes off the paper.
“Yeah, why?”
“Do you think she can do this job or not?”
I spin my drumstick between my fingers while I contemplate his question. Technically, no, I don’t think she can do the job, but we hired her knowing she had no experience.
“I think she’ll learn. I think that we threw her into the tour without any experience and the things that happened, do you really think she double booked us like that?”
Liam looks up. His eyes steady on mine. “No, but I’m not sure I can get over it.”
I nod. “Yeah, I hear ya.”
I don’t know what we’re going to do. Liam fired Sam and I was okay with that, but I’m not willing to let the band suffer for lack of a manager. We left Los Angeles assuming we could make it here, but maybe we can’t. Maybe we need to spend more time in L.A. working. The band is too important to let shit slide.
“Maybe things will get better.”
Liam smirks as he writes down a note. Maybe I’m just the eternal optimist and don’t want to give up the slight hope I have of making her see the real me. Not the guy she kisses and walks away from.