A YEAR LATER
“I don’t know.” Kit gnawed at her lip as she rocked Jemima back and forth in her arms, casting a worried glance up at Baylor. “Maybe we shouldn’t go after all. Look, she’s so clingy.”
Before her, both Baylor and Andi deflated. Andi had come over to the new apartment with the strict intention of babysitting little Jemima so Kit and Baylor could go on their first date post-baby. But maybe it was just too soon. Jemima would probably cry up a storm the second they left.
“She’s such a daddy’s girl, too,” Kit added, the anxiety knotting inside her as he looked over at Andi. “The second he steps out that door…”
“Kit.” Andi’s no-nonsense voice felt like a slap on the wrist. “Jemmy’s gonna be fine. I swear to you. You need this, babe.”
Baylor sighed, running a hand through his hair, which reached almost to the tips of his ears. It had grown in a luscious dark brown, which matched Jemima’s hair exactly. Kit liked to think he’d grown it out alongside their daughter as a sort of family nod. He claimed it was just time for a change. Whatever the reason was, it nearly made her heart wrench in two when she saw Baylor and Jemmy with their daddy and daughter hairstyles.
“Come on, Peach.” Baylor reached for her hand, covering it with both of his. “Jem’ll be fine. I’ve got something sweet planned for you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Jemima’s head.
She nodded, looking up at him. “Okay. Yeah. You guys are right.” She dragged her fingers over Jemima’s back as she headed for the pack and play. “I’m just…being a mom.”
Andi laughed. “Uh, yeah. You’re ready for your first evening away from the baby.”
“I know.” Kit set her daughter down in the pack and play, sending her a worried look. “I don’t know how I’ll be going back to work soon. I can’t even imagine it.”
“You’ll survive,” Baylor said. “Every mom does it.”
“Yeah, girl, and besides, you need to get back to your fans.” Andi settled into the arm chair next to the pack and play. “Your Instagram videos are fire, but we need to see you in public again.”
After Kit’s attack, the news went viral somehow. She wasn’t what the logistics were behind anything going viral, but some combination of her social media presence and the manner of her attack helped launch her career in a serious way. Phone calls started rolling in: other clubs, booking agents, even some recording studios desperate to lay down her vocals on background tracks. It was like the attack had finally given her the push she needed to become visible.
Though she stayed on at Gary’s for a while longer, the crowds got so big that they consistently reached maximum capacity during her show nights. She’d taken a break to record her first studio album somewhere around month four of the pregnancy, and premiered that album with intimate concerts at larger venues around the city. By the time she’d gone into labor with Jemima, she had sold her first five thousand albums and her agent was eager to get the second in production.
“It’s coming. I swear.” Kit ripped herself away from Jemmy’s wriggling little body in the playpen, hunting for her purse. “I’ve got the meeting with my agent next week to finalize booking dates and the start of the next album.”
When she looked up, she caught Baylor’s satisfied grin. He shone with pride over her career, over their baby girl…over just about anything in their lives together. He was a proud daddy, and Kit had never thought that starting a family could feel so good.
“Are you ready?” Baylor sent a stern look. “Come on. This hog ain’t waiting all day.”
“Okay, okay, okay.” She slipped her flats on, slinging her purse around her shoulder. She felt each breast, gauging the milk level there. “I just might have to nurse her soon.”
Andi groaned, pushing at her back. “You have enough breastmilk in the freezer to nourish a refugee camp. Now get out of here.”
Kit laughed, grabbing Baylor’s hand before scurrying out of their apartment. “Okay. Love you. Be back later.”
Once the door shut behind them, a whoosh of air left Kit’s body. She smiled up at Baylor, who planted a kiss on her forehead.
“They’re gonna be fine,” he said, as if in response to the quiet anxieties in her head.
“I know. You’re right.” They walked hand in hand out the parking lot, where Baylor’s motorcycle gleamed in a spot in front of their apartment. Before Jemima arrived, Kit had enough money to snag a practical little sedan, something perfect for carting around the baby and huge grocery runs. Plus, Baylor worked out something with the club where he could work on lower level, less risky gigs that still paid well. Between the two of them, Kit felt like she was living in the lap of luxury. If luxury was defined as stable income and not wanting for anything.
“So where are we going?” Kit tugged her helmet on and waited until Baylor climbed on before resuming her position behind him. He’d been waiting for this trip on his bike, just the two of them, for almost eight months. She hadn’t fit on back with her big belly since about halfway through the pregnancy.
“Can’t say.” He turned the bike on and it rumbled loudly beneath them. He sent a mysterious smile her way. “You ready, Peach?”
She nodded, hugging him tightly as they zoomed out of the parking lot. It was just about five p.m. and rush hour traffic had descended in full by the time they reached the packed freeway. They crept through lines of cars and trucks for what felt like an eternity until Baylor finally veered toward the exist that made his destination known.
She gasped, hugging him tighter. “We’re going to the beach!”
Baylor didn’t confirm or deny, just brought them ever closer to what she’d suspected: Santa Monica public beach. By the time they’d pulled up to the long rows of parking spaces overlooking the sand, the sun had sunk to that ethereal golden level, where everything was bathed in perfection.
She sighed, tugging her helmet off, staring out at the ocean as it moved against the shore.
“This is incredible,” she said, finally swinging off the bike. Baylor wrapped his arms around her from behind. “We should have brought Jem.”
“Next time.” Baylor pressed a kiss to the side of her face. “This time is just for us.”
Warmth spread through her, prompting tears, as her life often did these days, when she reveled in just how sweet it all was. A caring, doting partner. A gorgeous, perfect baby girl. A career on the upswing, doing the one thing she truly loved.
She hated that it had started with a stalker. But it sure didn’t end that way.
“Now,” Baylor said, turning toward the saddle bags on his gleaming Harley. “For phase two of the surprise.” He pulled out a fabric bag, wiggling his eyebrows at her. When she tried to peer inside, he held it away from her.
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand, squeezing it before leading them toward the beach. “Let’s go find a spot.”
They trudged through the sand, alternately laughing and pointing as they tried to come to a mutual decision about the best vantage point. One area had too many screeching gulls, another was full of kids playing a wild card game of volleyball. Finally, they found an area with just the right amount of placid strangers in the periphery. Baylor set down the bag, laying out a flimsy blanket for them to sit on.
“You’ve thought of everything,” she murmured, slipping her flats off before settling onto the blanket.
“I thought of everything and more.” Baylor rummaged around in the bag, revealing a few different tupperware containers, followed by a bottle of wine. Kit gasped.
“Awww, Baylor!” She beamed as he uncorked the bottle, pouring them each a plastic cup’s worth: another detail he’d covered. “And here you still try to pass off the Bastard nickname, when you’re everything but.”
He laughed, settling onto the ground with her, pulling her into his arms. “You’re the only one who knows the truth. Besides, I gotta keep up the reputation with the brothers.”
“They’re secret softies too,” she protested. And they were—the guys had turned into total sweethearts once she came around for the second chance meet and greet, the redo she’d finally agreed to at Baylor’s insistence.
And ever since they’d viewed her as his old lady, they were at her beck and call. She was also part of the club, which was sometimes still a hard concept to wrap her head around. Whatever they would do for Baylor, they would do for her and Jemima. The extra backing made her feel stronger and more invincible than ever before.
“Yeah, but don’t ever say that to their faces.” Baylor opened up the containers to reveal the dinner he’d brought: one container full of sushi, another full of mac and cheese, and one with tiny pork sandwiches.
“Oh my God.” Kit tipped her head back, laughing from the gut. “This is the most perfect representation of our eating lifestyles. Sushi for me, pork for you, and mac and cheese for both of us.”
Baylor grinned at her, his eyes shining with adoration. The way he looked at her most days could stop her heart if she thought about it too much. That was one of the perks of loving this man. He was a boundless well of love. All it took was for him to tap into it, and let it flow. To finally say yes.
“Thought you’d like it.” He unrolled some silverware from a napkin and handed her a fork. “Let’s dig in.”
She sipped at her wine as he stuffed some mac and cheese into his mouth, groaning with satisfaction.
“I’ve been waiting for this shit all day,” he said. Kit popped a cucumber roll into her mouth, nodding, her eyes on the low tide. The salty air, the yummy food, this man at her side. What more could she ask for?
She chewed another roll before saying, “You know, you’re the best man I’ve ever known, Baylor.”
He glanced up at her shyly, his dimple flashing. “Yeah?”
“If only everyone could get so lucky.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek before scooping some of the mac and cheese into her mouth.
“Lucky?” Baylor scoffed. “It was more than luck. I fucking hit the jackpot and got struck by lightning twice all in the same day when I met you, Peach.” He grinned over at her, shaking his head.
“God, I love you.” She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.
“I love you more.” His voice came out raspy at her ear, a sign of the emotion behind his words. She knew because he’d admitted to her once that he’d not said the words often in his life. Saying them was new, and sometimes hard. Every time he said the words it felt like a gift, meant truly and only for her.
She sidled into his lap, curling into him, absorbing the firmness of his body beneath her while she got lost in the dreamy soundtrack of his breath, the churning ocean, the distant peals of laughter and conversation. There was no place she’d ever want to be. Only here with Baylor, their baby girl safe and healthy.
“Actually, there was one more thing I planned for today,” Baylor said after a long, sweet silence. He rummaged around in the bag again, unwrapping something from a swath of fabric. The telltale tiny black box made her gasp before he’d even said anything.
“Baylor,” she whispered.
His boyish grin nearly cracked her in two. He popped open the box, his eyes shining with moisture. “Peach. Marry me.”
Her squeal of laughter got lost in the crashing of the waves as she tackled him to the ground.
THE END
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