Dred and the band were considering touring for the first time since Lennon’s accident. He glanced over at the drummer who was chatting with a couple of the guys who worked at Reid’s garage. It was hard to believe what had happened, but the level of worry Dred had once carried for Lennon had significantly reduced.
“Yeah. I talked to Michael. I guess as the show producer, he has the ability to make things like this work. We might combine some dates with the tour schedule. Like, stay in Cleveland for an extra day or something so we can film there the day before or after… if that works for you.”
Trent nodded. “I can write my own schedule, so just let me know. I’m glad we can make it work. Are the families going with you?”
Dred laughed. “Yeah, we’re the regular fucking Von Trapps. They won’t be with us all the time, but I haven’t even begun to think about how many tour buses we need for nearly twenty people across five families… and that’s before we get to the crew. Plus, the logistics are so much more complex with so many different schedules to work in.”
Trent knocked the top of his beer against Dred’s. “Good luck with that.”
Dred rubbed his hand across his jaw. “It’s going to be like a dog’s chorus. One kid’ll cry, and then they’ll all go down like dominoes. Honestly. I’m thinking we should just get five buses. Or four maybe so Jordan and Lexi can share with Lennon. Georgia’s the only one definitely not coming because she’ll have to work. It’s a fucking logistical nightmare. I don’t envy Ryan trying to figure all this out.”
Pixie joined Cujo and Harper on the dance floor and Cujo mouthed to Dred the word threesome.
“Lucky man,” Trent shouted back, knowing full well that his friend was teasing and meant nothing by it beyond causing him to laugh.
“Dick,” Dred yelled.
“What’s a dick, Daddy?” Petal said, appearing in front of them. She was rubbing her eyes after an hour-long power nap on Jordan’s lap.
“It’s what Uncle Cujo is when he’s being annoying but don’t tell mommy I said that.”
Petal looked back at Cujo and muttered the word dick. “I love you, Daddy,” she said and ran in the direction of Lia.
“I’m sorry,” Dred said, suddenly.
Trent turned to face him. “For telling your daughter Cujo is a dick? It’s a true story so no worries.”
“No. For Pixie not coming back as often as she should.”
Trent sighed. “From the first day you saw her in the studio, Cujo and I saw it coming. And I get it. You’re there. The band’s there. You can’t live in two places.”
“I know. But it just became too easy to stay there. And we can’t even use the excuse we were touring. We weren’t. We were writing. And while we usually do that together, there was no reason we couldn’t have done it remotely.”
“As long as she’s happy, that’s all we’ve ever cared about.”
Dred nodded. “I know. But I think she’d be happier if she saw you guys more often. There may be times when she’s down here without me. And I know she’s got Lia and Reid a couple of floors above her, but I’m worried about her being alone.”
Trent put his hand on Dred’s shoulder. “We’ve got her. I know he looks like a complete doofus half the time, but Cujo wouldn’t let a thing happen to her, and neither would I. We’ll collect her and the girls from the airport, we’ll take care of them. If it ever makes sense because you’re away and she wants to be here, we’ll look after her.”
Dred’s shoulders sank in relief. “Thanks, man.”
Pixie walked up to them, a grin on her face. “Is either of you the reason Petal just called Lennon a dick?”
Trent laughed and Dred sprayed some beer. “Not guilty,” Trent said, lifting his hands into the position of surrender. “You’re on your own with this one, Dred.”
Still laughing at the image of Petal using the d-word, he found Harper off to the side of the dance floor.
“Hey, Darlin’,” he said, snaking his arms around her waist and planting his palms on her bump. They’d done all the tests on the little girl they planned to name Seren, not that it would have made any difference. They’d just wanted to be prepared. She didn’t have Trisomy 21 like Travis. He thought back to one of the nurses who, in a well-meaning gesture, had suggested that she’d be ‘normal’… as if Travis wasn’t. It had aggrieved him so much, he’d written a letter of complaint to the hospital.
“Hey, Sweetie.” Harper placed her hands over his and leaned back against his shoulder. She really was the cutest fucking pregnant woman. Not least because her breasts, which he liked on any given day, swelled, and he had a clear line of sight of her ever-increasing cleavage. From the back, she looked as slender as she always did. From the side, it looked as though there was a bowling ball tucked up her T-shirt.
“Where’s Travis?” she asked, swaying to the music. Given she was wearing the new pair of Jimmy Choo’s he’d given her that morning, her ass was brushing his dick in a way that might get him, and her, into a lot of trouble.
“Passed out on Mom. He tried to keep up with Petal for as long as he could and then he just needed to sleep.”
“Perfect. They look happy, don’t they?” She tipped her head in the direction of her brother and Lia, dancing with Petal on the dance floor.
“Yeah. Not as happy as me and you, though.” He pressed a kiss to her neck. As always, she tilted to give him access. If she were ever mad at him, all he had to do was kiss her right at the sweet spot behind her ear and she’d forget what she was mad about in a heartbeat.
Harper laughed. “I certainly have no regrets in my choice of tattoo artist.”
Trent turned her to face him. Those green eyes of hers were filled with joy. “I hope you have no regrets about any of it.”
“None. Not a single one.” She placed her hands around his neck, and he placed his hands on her hips, drawing her as close as her bump would allow. “What about you?”
“Well, there was this one time in Vegas with Cujo when I was twenty-four—”
“Stop,” Harper said, laughing. “I don’t want to know where that leads. You know what I mean. About us. About Travis. About having more kids. The life we have.”
Her skin was soft beneath his palm as he brushed his thumb along her cheek gently. “I wake up each morning and say a fucking prayer of gratitude that my life turned out this way. I reach for you and feel your naked body next to mine, and I know the world’s still okay, despite the chaos that seems to constantly be happening in the world around us. And as for Travis. The way he smiles at me when I go get him out of bed in the morning makes me feel a million feet tall. And do I grieve a little that he won’t get to experience this life that we have in the same way we have it? Sure. But it’s my job to ensure he experiences the fuck out of the life he has. It’s a gift I get to be his dad.”
“Trent,” Harper whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “And now I’m crying. Again. Hormones.”
“If it helps you out, I was also about to say it’s a gift I get to bang his mom.”