Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 29744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
"Uh, bullshit," Ronan says. "I behave and she still terrorizes me."
"That's because you're bossy and you annoy her," I say, shrugging. "You never do what she wants you to do. If you'd just cooperate once in a while, she wouldn't have to terrorize you."
"I cooperate," he lies.
Memphis snorts.
"What? I cooperate."
I pat his hand. "Of course you do."
He narrows his eyes on me, making me smile. He does not cooperate, and he knows it. When it comes to me, he's completely unreasonable. I'm the most overprotected country star on the planet thanks to him. I'm not complaining though. It's been five years since Brother Gibbs tried to kill me, and I'll never forget how terrifying it was or how helpless I felt. I'll never forget how it felt to see him pointing a gun at Ronan, or the gratitude I felt toward my mom when she shot him.
My parents and I are in a much better place today than we were back then. They don't always understand my life, but they try. They withhold judgment, at least. It's not perfect, but it's better than it was. We're a family again. Our kids have grandparents. For the last five years, I've been happy. Blissfully happy.
And so has Ronan. It hasn't always been easy for him. He still struggles sometimes, especially around the anniversary of that day. The nightmares always come back then. But for the most part, he's okay. He's forgiven himself. He's worked through as much of the trauma as he can. It'll always be with him in some ways. PTSD doesn't just disappear. There is no magic cure. But he isn't the same man he was five years ago, either. He's at peace now.
It's beautiful to see.
"Are you sad?" Memphis asks me.
"About the tour ending?" I shake my head, smiling. "Nope. I'm ready to be home with my babies again." This will be our last tour for a while. Now that our kids are getting older, I want to be home with them. I don't want them thinking it's normal to grow up in a tour bus. I want them to have a normal childhood doing normal things. And I want to be home with them.
I've spent enough of my life on the road. I've seen the world. I've played for millions. I'm ready to spend time with my husband and our babies, being a normal family. We haven't done much of that for the last five years. We've toured and lived the musician life. I'll always be a musician. That won't change. But I'm done with touring, at least for now.
Besides, I haven't told Ronan yet, but we have another little one on the way. I'm ready to raise at least one baby at home instead of on the road.
"It's about damn time," Memphis grumbles. "I'm getting too old to wake up in a different city every day."
"You're forty-two," his wife says, laughing at him.
"Exactly, angel baby. That's too fucking old." He picks her up, dragging her into his lap to kiss her.
"That's our cue to get the fuck out of here," Ronan mumbles to me, standing up.
I giggle, allowing him to pull me with him. "Goodnight, guys."
Memphis lifts a hand and waves but doesn't let Ava up for breath.
Ronan pulls me down the narrow hall of the bus to our room and then closes the door behind us before pulling me into his arms. "Want to drown them out with some noise of our own, songbird?"
"Actually," I murmur, slipping from his arms. "I have something for you." I circle around the bed, pulling the pregnancy test and the little onesie out of the drawer where I hid them, and then cross back to him. "These are for you."
He takes the small bag, eyeing me curiously.
"Call it an end-of-tour gift," I say.
He grins before reaching into the bag to retrieve the items.
I watch with my teeth caught between my lip, my stomach fluttering anxiously as he unrolls the onesie. We intended to stop after Max was born two years ago. We both decided three kids was plenty. But we haven't exactly been careful lately, either. I think we both secretly wanted another one. I hope he secretly wanted another one too because it's too late to take it back now.
"Little Songbird," he reads before looking at the test. His eyes flash to mine. "Songbird, are you…?"
"Yes," I whisper. "We're going to have another baby, Ronan."