Following Jake up Tate’s driveway, I searched for Carter’s telltale sport car. The problem was, there were a whole bunch of new cars, and there was no telling which was his. I’d never taken Shane for driving a Bentley or a Jaguar, or Tate a Beamer, but there they sat, lining the driveway in front of his Seattle suburb home. With the twins coming, I guess Tate’s Ducati days were over. At least someone had a lick of sense. I should’ve fallen for him. Every girl fell for the front man. No, I had to fall for the cocky bassist.
“Nice Maserati,” Haris observed. I turned my head. It was a sporty and sleek machine in graphite gray and trimmed with chrome accents. She was just Carter’s style. A perfect balance of sophistication, combined with the promise of a good time.
My stomach curled. A sweat broke out across my forehead. “Haris, I’ll reconsider marrying you if you turn around right now and take me away from here.”
“Too late.” Tate and Shane stepped out the back door and headed straight for our car. “They saw us.”
“God hates me.”
“You’re not religious.”
“When the Big Man upstairs constantly tests your faith, you tend to question His existence.”
We rolled to a stop behind Jake’s pickup. Tate passed between us and tugged my door open. “Bratty Mattie!”
“Oh, I’ve graduated. They now call me Matilda the Hun.”
Tate barked in laughter, and helped me from the truck. His gaze zeroed in on my stomach, widening amusedly. “Jesus, lookit you!”
“I know, right? I can barely see my feet.” I wiggled said appendages, trying futilely to see them past the circumference of my stomach.
“You’ve got nothing on Coop.”
“How is she feeling?”
“Ready.”
“Understandable. So when’s the big day?”
“Monday.” Tate’s smile faltered, visibly unnerved. From what Jake had told me, Coop had two surgeries to repair the damage to her throat. This will have been the third time Tate watched her go under the knife since they’d met.
“She’ll be fine. It’s all routine.”
“I know. I know. What about you—when’re you due?”
“Late September.” Late August, really. But I was lying. It was too easy to put two and two together. That would take me back to November. Thanksgiving. Missoula.
“I can’t get my head around little Mattie having a baby,” said Shane. “The thought just blows my mind.”
I smirked at Shane and stuck out my tongue. “Maybe I feel the same way about your short hair. It’s mindboggling. The bad-boy drummer turned pussycat.”
Shane flashed a shy smile. “Em wasn’t keen on the long hair.”
My smile widened, causing his face to flush with color. “My God, he did it for love! I’d have never taken you for the romantic!”
Stealing me from under Tate’s arm, Shane wrapped me in a hug. I knew he was just trying to shut me up, because he crammed my face into his chest. “Good to see you again, kiddo.”
“Same,” I mumbled.
“You’re not going to let it rest, are you?”
“Not a chance. The chompers look good too. That's a snazzy smile you've got there.”
“Thanks.” Contrary to his words, he rasped my scalp with his knuckles. Yelping, I wriggled from his grip and began to smooth my hair.
“Geez, take a compliment.”
“Who’s your friend, Mattie?” Shane said, diverting the attention from himself. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“Sure.” Pointing dumbly at Haris, I flubbed my way through an introduction. “This is Haris. He’s um…”
“Her boyfriend,” Haris explained. Extending his arm, he shook Shane, and then Tate’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m a huge fan.”
“Thanks, man.” Taking his hand back, Tate gestured toward the back yard. “We should go around back. Coop’s hanging out by the pool with the little man.”
“Everyone here?” I inquired. Carter, particularly. “The whole gang?”
“Yeah. I think Carter just headed down to the studio. He was sulking cause Paisley decked him after he threw her into the pool.”
“She just had her hair touched up.” Jake shook his head. He handed a tray of cold cuts to Tate, and large salad bowl to Shane. A third tray of bread and rolls, he lifted from the tailgate of his truck. “He should know better than to fuck with her around the pool water.”
“Well, Carter was never one to respect anyone’s space,” Tate said, as if it excused his friend’s lack of good judgement. “You have to expect trouble when he’s around.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
As we rounded the corner of the house, I could hear Levy’s screams and peals of excitement. A tall, lanky boy with blonde hair was in the pool, standing several yards away from another guy, who was helping Levy swim. The taller of the two’s arms were outstretched, as if searching, but unable to see anything. A few seconds later, he called, “Marco.”
Levy responded, “Poe-whoa,” and then squealed in fright as the taller boy lunged for him in the water. The second guy lifted Levy in the air and tossed him across the pool, away from the hunter’s arms. Levy went under water for a moment, but quickly resurfaced, his head bobbing in the water. Despite his wide grin, he didn’t make a peep of sound and give himself away.
“That’s Jaxon,” Tate explained. “We picked him up in Eugene. He’s going to play drums for Coop.”
“He can’t see well,” Shane expounded. “But he’s kinda self-conscious about it, so don’t say anything. Although, if you see something in his path, warn him so he doesn’t trip.”
“What happened to him?”
“Cataracts. He just had surgery.”
“He kicks ass at the drums, though,” Tate voiced. “His sight doesn’t slow him down on stage. The guy’s a natural.”
“The other one’s Peter,” Jake pointed out. “Paisley’s brother. Carter’s been working with him on bass.”
“Merda! Is that Mattie?” Em’s voice cut above the others in a trill of excitement. Rising from her lounge chair, she abandoned the shade and circled the pool.
“Prepare,” Shane warned. “There might be waterworks.” He said this in apology, not in ridicule.
“Look at you!” she gasped, turning her head this way and that in wonder. Indignantly, she scowled at Jake. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us she was pregnant, Jake!”
At a loss for words, Jake lifted his shoulders. “It was her news to tell.”
“You’re going to be an uncle, stunod! I’d say that’s cause to raise a glass with your friends!”
Listlessly, Jake raised his beer bottle in the air. “To Uncle-hood.”
“Stronzo!” Em clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes.
“That’s not very nice, Em.”
“Vaffanculo, Jake.” Returning her attention back to me, Em glanced at Haris. “Who’s this, Mattie?”
“Haris,” I said politely. “This is Em. Em, this is Haris.”
“Nice to meet you, Haris. Not to be rude, but I’m going to steal your girl for a bit so Coop and I can grill her. We obviously have a lot to catch up on.”
Without waiting for a reply, she grasped my arm and towed me along behind her. Glancing back at Haris, I worried about what the guys would tell him. “I—”
“Stai zitto,” Em bade. “I don’t want Coop to miss one juicy detail.”
Just as we reached their chairs, Paisley joined us. Her hair was damp and smelled of conditioner. “You must be Mattie,” she presumed. “Jake told me a lot about you.”
“Did he?” Em drawled. “Did you know she was preggers?”
“He might’ve mentioned it.”
“You officially suck!” Indignantly, Em plopped down on her chair and lifted her glass of wine. “I can’t believe you withheld something like that.”
“We hadn’t met yet,” Paisley defended. “It wasn’t my news to share.”
“You’re engaged to her brother,” Em disagreed. “I think it does.”
My gaze drew to her hand, or more importantly, my grandmother’s diamond ring. Noting, Paisley lifted her hand and fidgeted with the piece of jewelry. Her mouth bobbed, trying and failing at an explanation.
“It’s fine,” I assured. “Gram already told me about it.”
“I feel horrible.”
“Don’t. I got the house.”
“Are you sure? I already told Jake he could have it back.”
“No, it’s ok. Really.” Stepping toward her, I held out my hand. “May I?” Nodding, Paisley placed her hand in mine. Grasping her fingers lightly, I turned her hand, watching the stones sparkle in the sunlight. “It fits perfectly,” I approved. “It was obviously fate that you were meant to have it.” Still, my eyes teared over the finality of my lost dream.
Before I turned into a mess of tears, I embraced her lightly. “Congratulations, Paisley, even though it’s my brother you’re marrying. He’s such a dweeb.”
As I let her go again, my eyes caught the group of men standing on the other side of the pool, all staring in our direction. “My God, did they think they were going to see a cat fight?”
“Pretty much,” Coop answered. “They can still fanaticize.”
“Carter was trying to get a game of Chicken Fight together earlier,” Em added. “I really think he was just hoping we would lose our tops.”
“He’s such a jerk,” Paisley voiced. “He threw me in the pool.”
“He’s been unbearable,” Coop agreed. “He used to be sarcastic, but funny. Now he’s just mean.”
“Ever since Missoula,” Em added. “Shane said he’s changed, but I can’t imagine him ever being nice. Acting like a coglione comes so natural to him.”
“Did he really take those two girls back to his room?” Paisley asked. I felt my teeth grind together. I drew a deep breath through my nose.
“In Nampa?” Coop asked. “I don’t think they were even legal. Not an ounce of intelligence between them.”
“He even pushed me and Coop, physically pushed us, when she kicked them out of the dressing room. Jake and Shane both saw him do it.” Tipping her glass back, Em emptied it in a one last draw. “I was really rooting for you, Mattie, but I’m thinking that it not working out was a blessing in disguise. You deserve better than Carter.”
“Wait,” said Paisley. “You had a thing for Carter?”
“Not anymore.” If it wasn’t true five minutes ago, it was true now. I think I hated him, truly hated him. With a passion so sharp, it cut likes knives. “I’m sorry—if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I need to use the bathroom.” Because like every other emotion, I cried when I got angry.
“Mattie?” said Coop, concernedly.
“I’m fine. I know where it is. Practically grew up here, remember?” My way around Tate’s house wasn’t her concern. I knew that.
Measuredly, I walked to the house and stepped inside, not to alert anyone to my degrading mental state. Once inside, I stole a deep breath and then continued to the bathroom. I thought I'd shed enough tears to last a lifetime. Yet, they continued to fall. By the time I had the bathroom door locked, my face was soaked, and my breaths were coming in erratic gasps.
God, I was stupid! So entirely stupid! I should've listened to Jake. I could've kicked myself for not seeing it sooner. He slept with not one, but two girls. And that was only Nampa. How many other girls had he fucked in Eugene, George, or right here in Seattle as they finished the final leg of their tour?
He’d made his opinion clear back at the Missoula airport, but I'd hoped he’d at least dwelled over me a little bit. I'd hoped I meant more than just a quick fuck. I wasn't some ordinary blonde. I was Mattie Whalen.
No, I was stupid.
“Mattie?” Em’s voice slipped softly through the door. “Mattie, are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” I choked, and then hiccupped. Grabbing the end of the toilet paper, I unwound a few feet and attempted to blot my face.
“That was convincing, kid. Open the door.” Rising from the toilet, I flipped the lock. Em eased the door open, stepped inside, closed the door behind her. One look at me, and she took me in her embrace. “Merda, I’m such an asshole.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m going to blame my idiocy on the sun and alcohol.”
“If anyone’s an idiot, it’s me.”
“Well,” Em said wryly. “You are in love with Carter.”
Em laughed. I laughed with her. Though, it was short lived. “Did he really sleep with those girls?”
Letting me go, Em took a step back and leaned against the door. She was lean and tanned. Her toes were lacquered bright red. I hated her a little bit. I couldn’t even see my toes. “It certainly looked that way.”
“God, I’m so stupid,” I said, mopping my nose. “So fucking stupid!” I paced in the small space. One hand rested on my belly. The other was clenched tightly into a fist. “How could I have thought I was going to change him? Like I have some kind of magic vagina, comparable to no other. I’m one of those girls! Fucking delusional!”
“Dio mio.” Em covered her mouth, finally grasping the full extent of my stupidity.
“Shut up!” I warned her. “This doesn’t leave this room.”
“Jake doesn’t know?”
“Of course not. He thinks Haris is the father.”
Em lowered her voice to a whisper. “Does Carter know?”
“No!” My eyes bugged out, as the thought of telling him set fully in.
“When were you planning on telling him?”
“Obviously, I haven’t thought that out very well.”
“I hate to say it, Mattie, but I don’t think today—here—now—is the best time or place if you don't want Jake to know. There’s no way Carter isn’t going to make a scene.”
Releasing a moan of lament, I pushed a hand through my hair. “Fuck. What was I thinking?”
“I’ll get Haris.”
“What’re you going to tell him?”
“That the heat got to you.”
“It’s seventy-five degrees.”
“Your hemorrhoids are flaring up. It’ll keep the others from asking questions. No one wants to discuss hemorrhoids.”
“Ew.” For the record, I didn't have hemorrhoids.
“Exactly.” Opening the door, Em slipped outside. “I’ll be right back.”
Two girls, and barely legal. I couldn't get it out of my head. It was permanently etched into my memory. I'd never look at him again and not see him in a threesome with a couple of high-schoolers. And here I was, striving for his attention.
Just as my hate for Carter reached a never-before high, Haris knocked on the door. With relief, I tugged it open.
For a brief moment, maybe a lifetime, Carter stared, taking everything in. Me. The baby bump. Me. The baby bump.
My will crumbled. This was what I wanted, just to see him again. To get some small reaction from him. To know he cared, even if it was only to claim paternity.
When I finally snapped to, I gathered my wits, then fortified them with the image of two blonde teenyboppers and a healthy dose of anger.
Stepping aside, I intended to go around him. I heard Haris and Em down the hall. “Excuse me.”
Of another mind, Carter blocked my path. “It's mine, isn't it?”
My mouth went dry. “No.”
“Fucking liar.” Stepping forward, he forced me deeper into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
“Carter,” I warned.
“Why wouldn't you take my calls?”
“You made your feelings clear.”
“I panicked, Angel. That's all.”
Angel. Only Carter called me Angel. It was a joke. Growing up, I was anything but angelic. “It's fine, Carter. That was months ago. I’ve moved on.”
“You look like it.”
“Wow,” I said sardonically. “That's so narcissistic to think I'm crying over you.”
“Really? Why then?”
“None of your fucking business.” It was a sound enough excuse in my book.
Behind Carter, Haris knocked on the door. “Matilda?”
“Fuck off, Biff,” said Carter, at the same time I said, “I’ll be right out.”
Impatiently, I rested my hands on my hips. “Come on, Carter, just let me out.”
“I’m not letting you leave this room until you tell me the truth.” His finger jabbed toward my belly. “That’s my fucking kid, isn’t it?”
“Does it make a difference?”
“What kind of goddamn question is that?”
“I’m with someone, Carter. He loves me. He doesn’t care if the baby is or isn’t his. He wants to help me raise him. What can you offer? Child support? Hopes that you don’t bring your groupies around the weekends you have custody? No—I won’t even have that because you’ll just be a washed-up musician without a job because you broke up the band.”
Carter winced as if I’d slapped him. I used his moment of shock to shove past and slip out the door. Haris took one look at my face, and then over my shoulder at Carter. “Are you all right?”
“I’d like to go home. Now.”
I’d thought we’d made it. We were nearly to the gate when I heard Em’s panicked call for Shane’s help. When I turned to look, she was hanging onto Carter’s arm, her feet planted into the ground. Carter was dragging her along, her bare feet slipping over the grass.
“Fuck you! Get the fuck off me!” he shouted irately. “That’s my fucking kid! Who’re you to tell me what kind of father I’d be? You didn’t give me a chance! You wouldn’t even pick up the fucking phone!”
Haris pushed me behind him.
Shane’s attention wavered between Em and Carter, and Haris and me, trying to make sense of what was happening. He either grasped hold or decided it didn’t matter and took Em’s side, because he ran to her aid. Unfortunately, he was a little too late.
Jake, Tate, and everyone else stood staring, piecing everything together.
“I called! I fucking called damn it!” With one jerk of his arm, Em’s feet lifted off the ground. She went flying forward and tumbled over a lawn chair. Carter surged forward.
“Oh my God!” I gasped, stepping back.
“Get back, Matilda,” Haris warned. “Stay out of the way.” His fists went up in a fighter’s stance.
This so wasn’t happening.
Except it was.
“Get the fuck outta my way,” Carter growled. “Mind your own business!” Ducking to the right, he tried to go around Haris, but Haris mirrored him, blocking his path.
“She didn’t take your calls. I’d say she made her choice.”
“Look, man,” Carter warned. “I’m not fucking around here. You’re starting to piss me off.” As he stepped to the left, Haris knocked him back a step with a right cross.
Carter’s head snapped back. He stumbled backwards but caught himself. Shaking his head, he wiped a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Dropping his shoulder, Carter barreled into Haris, wrapping his arms around his torso. I think he meant to take him down. Only, Haris reached down and circled Carter's neck, placing him in a headlock. With his right fist, he was able to place a few kidney punches.
Carter folded at the knees, wheezing. “Stay down,” Haris warned. “You're not going to win this.”
Carter, being Carter, climbed to his feet, swaying unsteadily and clutching his side. “The fuck I ain't.”
Haris dodged the next swing and then drove Carter back again with a left jab and a right cross. Undeterred, Carter dragged an arm across his face and squared up for another round.
“Stop it!” I demanded. “Jesus, just stop it!” Carter could take care of himself. With a mouth like his, you had to know how to fight. But Haris was on a different level. Carter was going to get himself hurt. Desperately, I looked to Jake and Tate, who were just standing there watching. Hell, everyone was watching. “Will one of you please stop them!”
Tate shook his head, his expression a cross of shock and disbelief. His mouth bobbed, at a loss for words.
“Jake?” I pleaded.
“Is he telling the truth, Mattie?” he demanded. “Is that his fucking kid? Did you sleep with him?”
“That’s none of your business!” For all it was worth, I might as well have said yes. Jake blew a gasket, his face going red from his neck to his ears. The next thing I knew, he pushed Haris aside and began beating on Carter himself. “Oh my God! Jake! Stop it! Shit! Jake!”
Haris grabbed my arm as I ran toward them. “Let’s go, Matilda. We should go. Now. Before he gets up again.”
“He’s right, Mattie,” said Em. “Nothing’s going to get solved until everyone gets a chance to calm down and clear their heads. From the looks of things, it’s not going to be anytime soon.”
From over Em’s shoulder, I watched Marshall—the band’s newest and largest bodyguard—yank Jake off Carter. Carter immediately rolled to the side and began struggling to stand. Marshall barked something at the two huge dogs, who were watching with rapt attention. They immediately jumped into action and latched onto Carter’s prosthetic, jerking him backwards until it broke free from his leg.
“Go, Mattie,” Em pressed. “You’d better go. Merda!” Turning, she headed toward the dogs. “Rake! Fiend! No! Damn it, Marshall!”
“Matilda.” Grasping my wrist, Haris began towing me toward the car. Reluctantly, I followed. Em was right. There was no reason to stay. I probably shouldn’t have come in the first place. I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have expected anything less.
Quietly, I climbed into the car, feeling sick to my stomach. Haris rounded the car and slid behind the wheel. Without hesitation, he started the ignition and sped down the driveway, leaving the wake of devastation behind us. Only when we pulled onto the street did he speak.
“Buckle up, Matilda.”