I like to think that’s how my and Naomi’s story started.
Two lost, broken, scarred souls who found one another at the most perfect of moments.
And now, almost three years after we met, we’re expecting twins.
Naomi couldn’t get pregnant traditionally. We tried and tried some more, but eventually we sought help. And with her age, they only implanted one embryo via IVF. But I’m a twin, right? And evidently, nature knows how awesome we are and had different plans for our one little embryo.
So in five months, I’m going to be a father. An uncle once more as Jas and Vi are expecting their third baby—if you include Adalyn as their first.
But tonight isn’t about any of that. It’s not about how my amazing wife is about to release her third solo album in as many years. It’s not about how Wild Minds is recording another album, filled with songs that set all of our blood on fire.
No. Tonight is about something I’ve spent the last two years searching for. Nearly gave up on. But luck has a way.
“Baby, will you sit down already?” I grouse, watching as Naomi sits for thirty seconds, then gets up and runs to the music room to write something down, then comes back and sits and repeats the whole process over again.
“Gus. It’s in my head. This beat. It’s in my head.”
She’s been like this since she got pregnant. If these kids have half as much rhythm as she and I do…
“You’ve got two minutes and then I’m setting dinner on the table.”
She rolls her pretty blue eyes at me. “You mean you’re putting the pizza box on the coffee table.”
“Is that not the definition of dinner on the table?”
She ponders this for a second and then concedes with, “You have a point. I just need a couple more minutes.”
A couple more minutes is perfect.
I set the pizza on the table and turn on the television, but I don’t cue up the movie just yet.
I moved in with Naomi about two seconds after everything went down with Florian in the studio. He walked out that door, well, tripped I guess thanks to Ethan, and that was that.
The picture never surfaced.
The accusations never came.
I had him followed by a P.I. for a while just to make sure he didn’t get it into his head to try something. But last I heard, he was living in Europe somewhere and doing his own thing. Retired from music. Hopefully clean and sober.
Anyway, since then, I haven’t left. I sold my house in Venice and we made up one of the spare bedrooms—there are four in this house—for Adalyn and it’s ours. This place. The water, the sun, the sand, the salt. Naomi has stopped surfing since she got pregnant. A man can only handle so much. But I have a feeling our little babies—whatever they may be—will be indoctrinated into the world of surfing the second their mother thinks it’s time.
“Naomi Kent Diamond,” I yell out only to hear her heave a heavy sigh.
Two minutes—yes, minutes—later she drags herself away from her piano and computer and sits beside me, nonplussed. That is until I flip open the pizza box, and then my pregnant wife’s eyes widen in hungry delight.
“Have I told you how much I love you?”
I grin. “I love you more.”
She eyes the pizza, picking her perfect slice, before lifting it away from the pie and bringing it to her mouth. She takes a hearty bite and then through a mouthful of sauce and cheese says, “I love you most.”
I turn and look at her, reaching out and wiping away a stray dash of sauce and say, “I sure hope so.”
“Actually, I was talking to the pizza.”
I laugh, snatching the crust from her hand and shoving it into my mouth.
Naomi smacks my chest, and I practically choke. She points a stern finger at me and says, “Never steal a pregnant woman’s pizza.”
“Noted,” I grumble through my mouthful.
And then I hit play on the remote.
Nine years ago, Naomi Kent headlined her first concert. Her parents were there with her, of course, and the three of them sang an entire encore for their fans. Casper and Naomi were reminiscing about it two years ago and since then, I’ve been a man on a mission.
I want to watch the entire concert with her, but that can wait until after.
Naomi blinks as she takes in what’s on the television, her second slice of pizza now dangling limply from her hand. “Gus,” she whispers. “What the…” She trails off.
She falls silent, watching in awe as she belts out one of her biggest hits from her first album. Only, she’s singing it as a duet with her mother. Her father is playing guitar, standing off to the side, staring on with so much love as his women bring the house down.
Tears fall helplessly from her eyes, one after the other. She does nothing to clear them, her focus solely on the television.
“God,” she hiccups a wet laugh. “Gus Diamond. You are my hero. How did you even find this?”
“It took me forever. Honestly, I wasn’t sure it even existed. It wasn’t that long ago, but people weren’t posting things on the internet the way they are now. Finally, on a whim, I asked HBO of all places and evidently, they had recorded your show as part of a special they did. Only, you and Casper obviously weren’t aware of that since you were only a teenager and he wasn’t part of it.”
“This is…”
I lean in and kiss her lips. “Happy Birthday, baby.”
“It’s tomorrow.”
I grin. “Tomorrow is your party, and I needed you to see this before then.”
She drops the pizza slice back into the box and climbs her way on top of me, her smallish belly stuck, firm in between us. I reach out and stroke it, lifting her shirt and touching the smooth, soft skin that’s protecting our children.
Her lips meet mine, kissing me with all her passion and love and joy. “Thank you,” she whispers into me. “This is the most incredible thing. I just…”
“You can watch it again. You can watch it over and over again. As many times as you want.”
“Thank you,” she says, her eyes set on mine. “I wish I could give you something this incredible back.”
I lean in and kiss her sweet lips. Stroke her belly. Smile into her eyes. “You already did.”
* * *
***The End
Thank you for reading Crazy to Love You! If you haven’t read the Wild Minds Duet (Jasper’s and Viola’s story) you can get it HERE.
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Keep reading for an exclusive, just for you, excerpt of Keith’s book, Love to Tempt You!
Love to Tempt You
Keith’s Prologue - Material subject to change
(unedited! I mean it, don’t judge.)
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Time seems to stand still, suspended above my head like an angry cloud as I stare up into the starless night through the windshield. It’s going to storm tomorrow. I can feel it in my bones. If it storms, I won’t have football practice. That means I can sit inside all day and jam with the guys. She’ll come for that. She always does.