“Sometimes you’re fucked before you even know it.” ~ Johnny Outlaw
We went backstage as soon as the show was over. The band and Tommy were already in the dressing room by the time we got there. Dalton stands and comes over. He appears tired, maybe from the performance, maybe from something else, but he puts me first, always. “You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine, better than fine. I’m good. I ate a sandwich and had a soda. I think Rochelle was right—too much stress, not enough eating, dehydrated, and then traveling.” I force my tongue to slow down, so I don’t worry him more. “I think life just caught up with me. I feel fine now.”
“Good,” he says as if he doesn’t quite believe me. Pushing some strands of hair away from my face, he grins. “So maybe later we can finish what we started.”
I play with his shirt, lightly twisting it with my fingers. When I look up, I say, “I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.” I’m not sure that I want to bring her up, but I do want to verify. “Why didn’t you lock the door earlier? It was really embarrassing to be walked in on and who knows how long she was standing there or would have if I hadn’t notice her.”
“I did lock it. I have no idea how she got in. Maybe the lock is broken.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” My suspicions tell me otherwise, but I’m not looking to start a war after the issues we’ve dealt with lately.
After glancing at his watch, he says, “We need to go out for the encore. Why don’t you head back to the hotel and get some rest.”
“I want to stay and watch.”
Strong fingers weave into the back of my hair and he pulls me close until his lips are on my forehead. “Okay, but be careful.”
“I will.”
His body leaves mine and the band follows him out the door, walking around me. The rest of the concert is spot on. The band has really gelled over the first half of the tour and it’s showing on the second leg.
An hour and a half later we’re sitting at the hotel bar on some couches in a dimly lit corner. Three sips into my wine, I feel ill. My head feels heated and I get a rushing sensation. I hurry to the bathroom and vomit into the toilet. With my arms out, holding onto the stall walls, I try to take a deep breath to clear my head and focus on feeling better, but my stomach churns again, sending me down. When I have nothing left, I wipe my mouth and walk out of the stall to find Rochelle walking in. “Hey, are you all right?” she asks.
Shaking my head, I say, “I was just sick. I think I’ve caught a bug.”
Her eyes go wide. “Holli, I think you’ve caught a baby.”
As I wash my hands, I send her a hard stare in the mirror. “I’m not pregnant. I’ve been on the pill forever and it’s never failed.” Leaning down, I splash some water in my mouth and rinse.
“Take a pregnancy test to be on the safe side.”
“Not now,” I snap. “Not here and keep your voice down. I just need to focus on Dalton and our marriage.”
She leans against the wall and eyes me. “What’s going on? Do you need to talk about it?”
“No.” I calm myself, but I’m firm, “We’re fine. We just finished getting over those tabloid pics of me and Sebastian, but we’re fine now and I just want us to be normal again. I need us to be how we were before I return.”
“I understand. Just promise me you’ll take one as soon as you get back.”
“I promise.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that.” But right now she holds the door open for me and a piece of gum instead. “Let’s go.”
When I reach the VIP corner, Dalton stands and says his goodbyes. He turns to me and says, “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
Rochelle sits down next to Dex and I sing song, “Have a good night.”
A look of worry covers her expression, but she says, “Have a good night guys.”
“Night, Trace. Night, everybody.”
I take Dalton’s hand and we walk through the lobby to the elevators. The doors open and we step inside. Just before the doors close again, Ashley hops in. “Caught it just in time,” she says, laughing as if she has no concerns in the world. Maybe she doesn’t… Maybe this is all a game to her.
Neither of us responds. When she pushes the button to her floor, the anger I feel toward her is hard to restrain. My hand tightens just as his does on mine. She leans her back against the mirrored wall and with her eyes on Dalton, she asks, “So you’re done for the night? I was hoping to get a group to go out.”
“Holliday’s here,” is his only response. “She’s not feeling well.”
She looks at me as if just noticing me standing here for the first time.”Oh, yeah…” Her tone dips as if I’ve ruined the fun.
“Excuse me?” I reply.
Her eyebrows shoot up, innocence trying to overtake the conniving that’s imprinted in the lines of her face. “Huh?”
“What did you mean by ‘Oh yeah?’ ”
She shrugs and turns away from me. “Nothing.”
“You meant something.”
“Fine. I just meant he’s not as fun when you’re around. He always seems like he’s in a bad mood. You could always let her sleep it off and come out with us, Johnny?”
Just when I’m about to start firing away at her, he says, “My wife is everything to me. You should show her the respect she deserves or you can find another tour to work on.”
The elevator doors open on her floor, but she stays, staring at him. The shock on her face disappears and she laughs, waving her hands in the air. “I get it. I can play along, no problem.” Backing out, she smiles at him and says, “Goodnight, Johnny.”
I’m left shell-shocked by her onslaught. The brass doors close stopping me from lunging at her. “I want her gone, Dalton.”
Five floors up, the doors open for us. I state again, “I want her gone!” and walk down the hall ahead of him.
“Don’t worry about her. I rarely see her.”
Turning around in the middle of the hall, I ask, “Don’t you see what she’s doing? Can’t you tell she wants you? She’s flat-out rude to me and flirting with you.”
“Yeah, just like Sebastian.”
“I didn’t punch her though?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “I thought you might.”
“She’s lucky I didn’t.”
“Look, I didn’t let it slide. I handled both situations.” When he walks past me, while rubbing his temples, he lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m tired, Holliday. Can we just go to bed?”
And there it is…
I’m suddenly the one who is the problem. Not her with her indiscreet flirting. Not her with her obvious disrespect to me as his wife and as a person. Not her with her too tight T-shirts. Not her…
Me.
The door is unlocked and I walk inside. Then I realize my suitcase is still in Rochelle’s room. I’m standing in the middle of the room caught up in a major dilemma—do I stay or do I go?
I head back to the door.
Dalton had just sat down on the bed when he looks up and asks, “Where are you going?”
Dropping my head down, I squeeze my eyes tight, hoping to find the strength to do what I need to do. When I turn around, I don’t see concern on his face, just an innocent curiosity. He’s about to be blindsided with a harsh truth and it’s gonna be heartbreaking to not only do it, but to watch it play out. I can’t hold him back, the weight of the guilt bogs me down and I say, “I’m leaving.”
He stands. “Why?”
Whispering, I say, “Because I need to.”
“Why?” He starts to come closer, but I back up with each step he takes until he stops. “Holliday?”
With my hand on the door and tears in my eyes, I drop my head down, my vision becoming blurry. “I’ll see you in LA.”
I open the door, but it’s slammed shut before I have a chance to escape. “You’re not leaving. Is this about that girl?”
“This is about us.”
“What’s wrong with us?”
“Lately?” I ask. I can’t look him in the eyes when I finish. “Almost everything.” My stomach turns and I think I’m going to be sick again, this time for entirely different reasons.
He hovers over me, his hands planted on the door above my shoulders. The intensity of his eyes is felt through the thick skin I thought I had. When I dare look up, he asks again, “What is this about? Talk to me.”
I’m weak when I need to be strong. I should be strong for him, for me, for us. But I can’t when I love him so much. “You could have everything, Dalton.”
“You are everything to me.”
Remembering how he defended me to not only Sebastian but also to Ashley mixed in with his sweet words now, the tears overlap my bottom lids and slide down my cheeks. The emotions of the day are getting the better of me. Instead of denying myself the one thing I want most in the world, I give in and wrap my arms around him. Leaning my head on his chest, my sobs break through and I cry. And he lets me, but comforts me by warming me with his arms around my body, his head leaning against the top of mine. “I’m not letting you leave, not tonight, not ever.”
And I believe him. I nod, my tears soaking spots on his shirt.
His hand cradles my head and there is no more denying what we have together, what we are together.
He says, “Tommy will handle Ashley.”
I sniffle, hating that I’ve put him in this position. “I hate playing the jealous wife role, but she makes me.”
Taking a step back, he brings me with him and we walk to the bed. “You have nothing to be jealous over.” His hand caresses my cheek, his thumb gliding back and forth softly. “If you only knew how I saw you… how I feel about you, you’d never have a doubt.” His lips brush against mine and then with a light pressure he says, “I’m in love with you—madly, deeply, soul-achingly in love with only you.” His thumbs wipe away my tears and he kisses me with all the intention in the world to show me his love.
Leaning back, he comes with me, my back to the bed, his chest to mine.
In the silence, I start thinking about how I might be holding him back now, much less if I am pregnant. Despite what he says, is he really ready to settle down that much? Are we?
I don’t want him to ever blame me for keeping him from achieving his dreams or worse, resenting me in the future. I cradle my arm around my stomach, mad that I’ve let my head… and my heart get wrapped up in the possibility of a little baby.
Shifting in his arms, I lean my cheek against his chest and concentrate on the calm of his heartbeat and fall asleep.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rochelle put her sunglasses on and look down to avoid the flashes. I flip my sunglasses over my eyes and lower my gaze to the floor of LAX. Tracy and Adam with a security guard lead us to the waiting SUV and we quickly climb in. “I’ll call you later,” she yells louder than the paparazzi, then shuts the door.
The SUV drives off quickly and I take what feels like my first breath in minutes. Once we hit the highway, Rochelle tells the driver to stop at a CVS before we get to my house. I stare at her. “I’m tired and want to get some sleep. It can wait an hour or two.”
“No, it can’t. You promised me you would do this as soon as we got back.”
“I thought you meant once we got home, not literally right after we land.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t make you take one at the airport. If you’re pregnant, you need to see your doctor and care for that baby in there. So we’re stopping and picking up the pregnancy test or three. I did four each time, but whatever, I’m weird like that. You only need one. They’re like 99.9% accurate.”
“Geez, like the pill I’ve been taking.”
“You stopped that yesterday. You didn’t take one today, right?”
“Nosy much.”
“Just caring…”
I let my guard down and look over at her. “I know you are. I’m sorry I’m so grumpy. I’m nervous and stressed over this.”
“That’s why you should take it now.”
As soon as we walk into my house, we leave our luggage by the door and I take the package and head upstairs to my bedroom. She comes with me, but waits while I go into the bathroom.
Gulping heavily, I rip the foil package and pull the stick out. After reading the directions, I follow them to a T, then set the stick on the edge of the bathtub. I open the door and bemoan, “The deed is done. My whole world is balanced on the tip of a pregnancy stick.”
“Either way, it’s going to be okay. I promise you. Dalton will be thrilled if you are and supportive if you’re not. I’m also here for you no matter what.”
We both sit on the counter, leaning against the mirror and staring at the stick across from us on the tub. “How long has it been?” I ask.
“Two minutes. That one said wait three.”
“Should I look now?”
“Let’s wait for the three minutes.” I don’t think either of us breathes over the next sixty seconds. She says, “It’s time.”
Slipping off the counter, she waits as I walk forward. Standing over it, peering down, I ask, “Two pink lines. What do two pink lines mean?”