Everything with my little peanut looked good and when I finished, I waved to the receptionist and we waited for the elevator.
“How far along are you?”
I turned in the direction of the question and found a smiling young woman to my right. I returned her smile. “Thirty-five weeks.”
“Getting pretty close,” she commented.
“Yup.” I rubbed my belly, enjoying the kick against my hand.
The elevator arrived and we traded places with the handful of people getting off.
“I don’t think I’m ready for kids yet,” the girl continued as the doors closed.
I chuckled. “Well, you look plenty young. I don’t think you have to be in any kind of hurry.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” She waved her hand in front of her as if shooing her worries away.
The elevator opened and I gave her a smile before stepping off. It surprised me when she hurried to catch up with me.
“So, you really think you’re good enough for Sean Amity?” Her brow was lifted and she looked me up and down.
I pulled up short, shocked both by her question and her change in demeanor. “I’m sorry?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I know who you are.”
Clearly. “And?”
She raised her chin. “You don’t deserve him.”
I studied her for just a moment, my head tilted a bit. “I know,” I said. After all, could anyone really deserve a person?
Nick stepped closer to me, holding a hand between me and this woman who was clearly an overeager fan. “Ma’am. Can you step back, please?” he asked her with cool authority.
“No.” Her words were low and vicious, her face twisting. She jabbed a finger toward my face. “You. Don’t. Deserve him. And if you know that, then you should get away from him so that he can find someone who will give him what he needs!”
I didn’t respond. Nick had put himself between her and me the moment she’d gotten aggressive, and he continued to talk her down as he backed her up. I held her gaze. The situation was unsettling, and I desperately wanted to shrink away and go hide in my bed. Instead I stood straight and tall as she continued to yell at me. She had no right to tell me what to do, certainly not when it came to Sean. All of my protective feelings rose up, the flames fanned by this so-called fan who thought she had a clue what Sean did and didn’t need in his life. As if any of them knew him at all.
A security officer joined Nick and forced the woman away from me. She kept yelling (and yes, even crying) at me. I simply looked her in the eye, even as Nick escorted me outside.
Stepping into the parking garage was like being jarred into another world—the cool air and deep echoes of doors slamming and feet clacking against concrete. Nick took hold of my elbow to keep me from stumbling. The adrenaline that had built up in my system suddenly had nowhere to go, leaving me shaky.
Nick tucked me into the car and then practically peeled out of the garage. I was aware enough that I noticed the smattering of people who had come out, cell phones raised to capture the drama. I stared straight ahead, determined to maintain my dignity.
“Well,” Nick said after a few minutes. “I was wondering when we’d run into one of those.”
“One of what?” I asked as my mind went a hundred miles a minute.
“A ravenous fan,” Nick clarified. “A stalker personality. Someone who thinks they really know Sean.”
“She’s delusional,” I bit out.
“Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed. “Which is why it was strange to hear you agree with her.”
“What do you mean?” Had I agreed with her?
“About you not deserving Sean.” He cut his eyes over to me then looked back at the road. “Do you really think he’s better than you?”
My smile was tired. This was something I’d given a lot of thought to. “It has nothing to do with someone being better than someone else. No one deserves a person. That makes it seem like we can earn the right to be with someone. I don’t ‘deserve’ Sean, and he doesn’t ‘deserve’ me. We’ve simply chosen each other.”
He took a moment to absorb that before saying, “I’d never thought of it that way.”
“I’ve always cared about Sean. When he started his career, I chose to take care of him, not because he had earned it, but because it was something I wanted to do. Then, later, I chose to take care of myself. I didn’t care about him any less. He didn’t go from being deserving to being undeserving. It just was. Situations change. People change. Priorities change. And we’re all just doing our best to choose something good every day.”
We’d stopped at a light and Nick looked over at me for several long seconds before speaking. “Well.” He shook his head a little as he turned his eyes back to the road. “No wonder you inspire so many of Sean’s songs.”
I snorted and we lapsed into silence.
As soon as I walked into the house, the look on my face must have alerted Sean, because he popped to his feet and crossed to me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is everything okay with the baby?”
“Yes. Yes. Baby girl is fine,” I assured him.
“Good.” He wrapped me in his arms. “Then what’s wrong?”
“Just…some lady being rude.”
He pulled back to look at me. “Some lady? You mean a fan?”
I nodded.
He blew out a breath. “What did she do?”
“Just told me how I wasn’t good enough for you.” I walked past him so that I could get to the couch. “I imagine she thinks she’s the only one who deserves you.”
“Did she get in your face?” he asked as he loomed above me, his hands on his hips. I called it his “protector mode.”
“A little, but she was mostly just snotty.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, love.”
I loved hearing that simple word coming from his mouth. I shook my head with a smile. “Not your fault.”
“Still.” He sank down beside me. “Even without me beside you, people are still recognizing you, and I don’t like it. Sure this girl wasn’t a huge problem, but fans are unpredictable, and once in a while they do really stupid stuff.”
“I know,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Which is why I have Nick. Now”—I stood up and crossed to my piano—“come play with me.”
He appeared to fight a grin but it broke through. “You want me on the piano with you or on my guitar?”
“Guitar,” I answered without hesitation. “You cramp my style when you try to play the same keyboard as me.”
“Aw,” he whined as he picked up his guitar. “That’s the fun of it.”
He was kidding. Everyone knew he preferred his guitar. I picked one of my favorite pop songs and played it from memory, letting Sean join in before I changed it up and started riffing on the chorus. Sean came along with me, grinning as he bounced his head and his knee to the beat.
It reminded me of when he’d been recovering from the injury to his hand and I’d played for him at his house.
Except that this was so much better. This wasn’t me entertaining and distracting him. This was both of us, equal participants, playing together to create something more than we’d be able to do on our own. Challenging each other. Giving and receiving from each other. A partnership.