Someone to Watch Over Me (39 page)

“I wasn’t planning to. I’m just a little
shocked to see you, and giving it to you straight from the
shoulder: you look like shit. Are you drunk?”

Em put her chin up, but staggered over and
draped her arms around me in a lush, drunken embrace. “Maybe.”

“Did this happen before or after the
flight?”

“Both.”

We both broke down into laughter. When it
died down, I backed her to arms length and looked into her eyes.
Tate had moved on to greet his father, giving me time to talk to Em
in private, so I didn’t hesitate asking. “What happened?”

“He didn’t return the sentiment.”

“Oh, Em.” I immediately understood the
reason for the long face. Oh, Garrison Craig, what did you do? She
looked heartbroken, utterly dejected. Doing the girly thing, I
placed my hand to my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

She shrugged and waved it off, but she was
hurt. I could tell. “It’s my fault, really. He just wasn’t ready. I
shouldn’t have pushed.”

I must’ve made a face in disagreement,
because Em was quick to explain.

“He came to the group for help, Coop. He
needed help. We shouldn’t have put him in the position we did. It
was wrong of us. We knew he wasn’t over losing Melanie. He was a
wreck, constantly afraid he was going to fail again—”

“Fail?” I interjected. It was a common
misconception. Dopey, stupid man. If anyone was to blame, it was
the criminal. “He didn’t fail. He was a victim as much as you and
I.”

“I know that and you know that, but he
doesn’t. Someday he’ll realize, but until then, he deserves to live
in peace.”

“You moved out.”

“Over the weekend. I’m renting a place off
eighth. It’s quaint. Small. Needs a little work. Hell, why bother
lying. It’s awful. It smells like mothballs and geriatrics, but
it’s within walking distance of everything. And maybe if I start
walking to work, I’ll lose those ten pounds that settled in my ass
since you left.” Remembering herself, she shook off the thought and
forced a smile. “Listen to me rambling. I drank too much.”

“You’re entitled.”

“No, I’m not. I came here to apologize and
here I am unloading my problems on you like a nitwit. I’m sorry,
Coop.”

“No you’re not.”

“You’re right. I’m not. I’d do it again. I
love you too much.” Em pulled me into another sloppy embrace and
sent me on my way. “Go meet your father in law so we can get this
show on the road. I haven’t eaten in days and my appetite’s come
back with a force. I’m starving. I could eat a horse.”

Again, my expression must’ve shown my
concern.

“I’m fine, Coop. I’m just going to go hang
on Marshall’s arm. It’s like a ham shank. I could take a bite out
of it right now.” Pondering the thought, her eyes narrowed to a
sultry gaze, which Marshall noticed, because he abruptly made
himself busy with scaring off the few passing spectators in the
gate. “Maybe I’ll just have a seat,” she amended. “I’ll wait right
here.”

Before I could fathom what she was doing, Em
dropped to the floor. Thankfully, she went down slowly, almost
gracefully. She landed on her ass, her legs splayed in a wide
v.

Pushing her hair from her face, Em looked up
at me, her face flushed, her expression sheepish. “I swear there
was a chair there a minute ago.”

“Jesus, Em,” I exclaimed, giving her a hand.
Only, she ended up pulling me down with her. The whole thing was a
farce. Every man within a twenty-foot vicinity stepped in to
assist. I watched with amazement as Em turned and winked,
surrounded by a half dozen doting men. I was flabbergasted. I
thought I knew her, but this was a totally different Em. I supposed
she just declared herself back on the market. Hunting season was
now open. Look out boys.

“Wow.”

“She’s wily, that one. Nolan,” Tate’s dad
said, introducing himself. He was long and lean. I could see where
Tate got his looks. I said so, and earned a crinkled smile. Other
than the crow’s feet, he was rather young.

“A pair, then,” Nolan surmised, studying me.
He wasn’t judging. He liked me. I could see it in his smile. He was
looking at me with an artist’s eye, to see what he’d gotten
wrong.

“No, I’m naturally charming. She’s wily.”
Finished brushing myself off and smoothing my clothes, I looked him
in the eye, caught a bit of twinkle. “Am I what you expected?”

“He told you, did he?”

“He wasn’t exactly forthcoming to tell you
the truth. In fact, I’m probably more of a believer than he
is.”

“I reckon you’re right, but why’s that?”

“Because I think he’s a gift from God, Mr.
Watkins. He’s saved my life. Thank you for pointing him in my
direction.”

“My pleasure.” Eyes wrinkling, he pulled me
into an embrace. “My pleasure. Welcome to the family,
sweetheart.”

“Momma!” Levy crowed. “I saw’d a
airpwane!”

Stepping away from Tate’s dad, I turned to
find Levy trundling in my direction, followed by Tate. “An
airplane! Did you see an airplane?”

“Uh huh!” As I scooped him off the floor, he
rattled off a long string of observations and opinions on how high
the plane flew. Much of it was unintelligible, but I nodded
along.

“What do you think?” Tate asked his dad
while Levy babbled on. The two were grinning and staring at me with
what I assumed was affection. I could feel my face flush with
color.

“She has personality,” his dad replied. “I
didn’t do her justice.”

“You want to paint her again,” Tate
ribbed.

“Again?” his dad replied. “According to you,
I didn’t paint her a first time. You don’t believe in all that
‘religious mumbo jumbo.’”

Rolling his eyes, Tate took Levy from me and
propped him on his hip. You know, because I was pregnant I wasn’t
supposed to lift heavy things anymore. I didn’t have the heart to
correct him on this assumption. “I just meant that you want to
paint her.”

“You want to write songs about her.”

“I have.”

“There,” his dad observed, gesturing to me.
“Lookit the color in her face. That would make one helluva
picture.”

“Coop,” Jake interrupted, striding toward us
with his sister in hand. “I wanted to introduce you. This is my
little sister, Matilda.”

She was pretty, tanned, beach blonde.
Athletic. One hell of a figure. She had grey eyes, pale in color,
almost clear. She towered me by about six inches. I tried not to
hold it against her.

“It’s a horrible name. He only calls me that
to torture me.” Smiling, she offered her hand. I accepted with a
gentle shake. “Call me Mattie. Everyone does, well, everyone but
Jake. But he’s my asshole—” Mattie trailed off, noting to the
scoffs and jeers around her, but Levy was the first to point out
her fault.

“Das a bad wood.”

“Way to go, Mattie!” Carter cheered,
clapping her on the back. “Way to go! Leave it to the kid sister to
curse in front of the children.”

“Oh, gosh.” She eyed Levy contritely. “I’m
so sorry.”

“She can still stay on your bus, right,
Coop?” Jake inquired. “She won’t curse anymore. Will you,
Matilda?”

“Jake!”

“What? You can’t stay on our bus. It’s guys
only. New rule. Ask Coop. Besides, her bus is much nicer and it’s
family oriented.”

“I’m twenty-one, Jake! I’m not a kid
anymore! When are you going to stop treating me like one?”

“When you’re grown up!”

“I’m twenty-two,” I interjected. I should’ve
stayed out of it, but I hated when people referred to me as a kid.
“Are you saying I’m not a grown up?”

“Thank you, Cooper,” Mattie said. Crossing
her arms over her chest, she scowled cantankerously at her brother.
“Cooper’s only a year older. She was allowed on the bus.”

“Coop’s an adult, Matilda. She’s raised her
son on her own for the last two years. She’s a single, working mom.
There’s a huge difference in maturity!”

“So if I didn’t have the sense to use
protection and I got knocked up, that would make me an adult? What
world do you live in?”

At this, everyone glanced at me and then
quickly diverted. I felt about an inch tall. Yes, twice I’d made
that mistake. Thank you. No need to point it out. Mattie offered an
apologetic look in my direction. It came out wrong. I know. She
hadn’t meant it that way. But still.

“That’s what I’m trying to prevent, you
moron!” Jake stressed. “You’re not staying on the men’s bus! It’s
full of men with questionable morals!”

Shane and Carter looked at each other in
confusion and then at Jake. “Dude,” Carter spoke up. “Are you
insinuating that I’d touch your kid sister? We’re talking about
Mattie here. That’s seriously messed up.”

At this point, all the blood rushed to
Mattie’s face. She looked about to blow a gasket. Her hands
clenched at her sides. The tendons in her neck flexed. “I. AM. NOT.
A. KID.”

“Technically,” Tate reasoned, “we were
married when it happened.” His defense was a little late in the
coming, not to mention everyone’s attention was focused solely on
Mattie at this point.

“I’ve been in college the last four years!”
Mattie continued. “Do you know what kind of things go on in
college? I’m not as innocent as you think! So butt the heck out,
Jake off!”

“Wow, Matilda,” Jake scoffed. “That’s real
mature.”

“Wait wait wait,” Em said, joining in. The
large coffee she was drinking barely had a chance to work its way
into her system. She wobbled on her feet as she squeezed between
Jake and Carter. “Back up a minute. Are you saying that Coop’s
pregnant
?”

The room miraculously silenced.

Except for Carter’s video, which Tate had
removed, we hadn’t told anyone outside the band, our bodyguards and
my parents. And my parents only knew because they couldn’t make it
to Thanksgiving dinner, when Tate had wanted to make the official
announcement.

“Oh my God, you are!” Em blurted. “You’re
pregnant!” For some reason, she took offense to this. Surprising
me, however, she aimed her glare at Tate. “You idiot! What are you
thinking? What about her career?”

I gasped. My hand went to my mouth again.
“Em!”

“Do you see?” Jake said to Mattie.
“Pregnancy is no joke! They’re married, Matilda, and it’s still a
serious matter! There are repercussions for Christ’s sake!”

“Oh shut up, Jake!”

“And you,” Em snarled, directing her
attention at me. “How could you not tell me this? I’m your best
friend, Coop! We tell each other everything!”

“Oh, everything?” I replied icily, finding
my voice. “I hardly think that’s true, Em. What about all your
‘Save Coop’ group meetings, huh? The only reason I found out is
because Tate made Marshall tell me!”

“I was looking out for you!”

“I deserved to know!”

Breaking through the chaos, Marshall put his
fingers to his mouth and blew a shrill whistle. Evan took it from
there. “Cars are waiting out front. Bags are loaded. We’re gaining
an audience, people. I suggest we move the show somewhere more
private. Thank you.”

Indeed, a small crowd of bystanders had
gathered just outside the gate. Some were taking pictures with
their cell phones, and I spotted one or two white lenses. Nothing
major. Local papers, most likely. A few smalltime photographers
looking to make it big.

Though I knew Grant was dead, old habits
were hard to break.

I hated having my picture taken.

Taking my hand, Tate tucked me behind him
and followed Evan. “Dad, Emily, Carter, you’re riding with us.”

“Do you have room for one more?” Mattie
asked, trotting after us.

“Sorry, with Levy’s car seat, we’re
full.”

“She can squeeze in the third row with me
and Dad,” Carter offered. Always the troublemaker, he smirked at
Jake and draped his arm over Mattie’s shoulder.

“Thanks Carter.”

“Anything for little Mattie.” Mattie’s mouth
twisted as if it wasn’t quite what she anticipated, especially when
Carter reached up and ruffled her hair. I could suddenly see Jake’s
concern. Mattie was crushing.

A few minutes later, we were seated in the
Escalade. Evan took the driver’s seat, and Tate the passenger’s
side. Carter and Nolan squeezed in the back, sandwiching Mattie
between them. Em and I sat in the center row, with Levy in the
middle. No one said a word.

“You know what?” Em said, breaking the
silence. “I think I’ll take the other car.”

“Em.”

“It’s ok, Coop. I’m just not feeling too
well. I drank too much. The walls are closing in on me. There’s
gotta be a little more space in the other car. Oh god let me out.”
She scrabbled frantically at the handle, trying to get the door
open. “Why won’t this darn thing open?”

“Child locks,” Tate explained, releasing
them from the front. He climbed out and helped Em to the Suburban.
Nolan used the time to move to the center row, giving Mattie and
Carter more room in the back. Levy looked up and showed Nolan his
teeth in a squinty smile.

“Yew dad?”

“No, he’s Grandpa,” Carter corrected. “He’s
old. See the gray hairs?”

“Carter!” Mattie chided.

“Carter’s appointed himself Levy’s teacher
of family relationships,” I explained. “Now he thinks everyone is
‘dad.’”

“He does not. Who am I, kid?”

Levy giggled. “Yew bad!”

Nolan found this particularly amusing and
belted out a laugh. “You got that right, son. He’s bad.”

“Funny. I’ll remember that, kid. Next time
you want chocolate ice cream or lollipops. Then you’ll be calling
me Uncle Cawtah again.”

Nolan was still laughing when Tate slid back
into the passenger’s seat. “Yew Dad!” Levy crowed, pointing a pudgy
finger in his direction. Tate turned, looked over his shoulder,
then reached back and tickled Levy’s feet, eliciting an
ear-piercing squeal from him.

Evan pressed the gas and pulled onto
Broadway, which would take us to the Adams Center and back to our
buses. There Em, Nolan and Mattie could refresh before having
dinner at the Sky Club, a private facility situated above the
arena. It was a catered event for the crew and their families,
those who could make it here or couldn’t make it home for the
holiday.