Untwisted (3 page)

“Of what? Of who?”

Lila smiled. “You, silly. Look at you. You’re glowing.”

“A minute ago you said I was Casper’s twin.”

“Okay, so today the light’s weaker than some days, but still.” Lila grabbed Jazz’s hands and held them out to the sides. “You’re absolutely gorgeous. Soon you’re going to be walking around with a big belly, and he loves you just that way. That’s rather incredible.”

Jazz frowned. If today had taught her anything, it was to not read more into what was said than the actual words. She would employ that same newfound wisdom when and if she womaned up enough to read Molly’s letter sometime this century.

Right now she would use her new skills to respond more proactively to Lila’s statement.

“Did someone tell you they didn’t like the way a woman looked when she was pregnant?” she asked softly.

That was one thing she would never have to worry about with Gray. If anything, he found her even more desirable now. He had his hands all over her constantly and told her all the time that he couldn’t wait to see her body change.

Lila lowered her gaze to the ground. “Is it that obvious?”

“No. Eight hours ago, I would’ve assumed you were trying to say I looked fat and it was a miracle that Gray still thought I was attractive. This morning, I ate Bitchy Bran Flakes for breakfast and was ready to bite people’s heads off. I’ve had an attitude shift since then.”

Lila smiled. “Let me guess. It involved a lunchtime quickie before you got here.”

“I wish.” Jazz sagged against the car. Screw the dust. “We haven’t had sex in three days.”

“Oh, the horrors.” Lila examined her manicure, hesitating before she continued speaking. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?”

Lila never talked about her personal life. Ever. Even the word
sex
falling out of her pale pink lips seemed impossibly crude. “Uh—”

“More than six years.”

“Oh. Wow. Um. Wow.”

Lila surprised her by laughing. “Yes, wow. Yet I manage to function just the same.”

“So I shouldn’t whine about three days, I guess. Sorry. I didn’t realize. Are you just…really particular or—”

“More that I don’t feel it’s proper to compromise my vows. Marriage vows,” she added when Jazz stared.

“You’re married? Why the hell aren’t you having sex then?” Jazz clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Uncalled for. Not my business. But seriously, why? That’s like having Nutella in the cupboard and only eating plain crackers.”

Lila laughed, shaking her head. “My husband has not ever been and will never be considered Nutella. He’s more of a dry fruit spread with too many seeds.”

“Okay,” Jazz said slowly. It really wasn’t her business. She had no reason to ask. “But don’t you, you know, get horny?”

“Of course. But I don’t need a man for that.” Lila eased off the car and stood bow-straight as she cast a critical look at Jazz. “Go home and get some rest. I want you to have some pink in your cheeks the next time I see you.” Lila leaned in and shocked the hell out of her by giving her a brief, semi-awkward hug then stepped back. “Eat too. Something light that won’t upset the baby this late. Good work today,” she called, starting back toward the studio at a blistering clip.

She was gone before Jazz found her voice.

Shaking her head, Jazz unlocked the car and slipped inside. Her stomach rumbled. It was now creeping toward eight o’clock. A greasy meal would hit the spot. Maybe a double cheeseburger with an extra side of pickles or—

Eat too. Something light that won’t upset the baby this late.

Jazz turned the key in the ignition. For someone who wasn’t a mom, Lila sure had a mom-like way about her. And she was right. The baby probably wouldn’t mind—or even know—if she shoved a pile of fast food down her throat, but she would. She had to think
responsibly
.

Fuck that word.

She ended up taking a detour to the grocery store. She loaded up her cart with some staples, since Simon had taken to popping her candy-like vitamins and drinking her whole milk. When she started breastfeeding, she was tempted to dump some in the carton and not tell him. It would only serve him right.

He’d probably happily drink it anyway, the freak.

She gave in to a pack of chocolate chip cookies and to checking her phone twice, though she compensated by adding extra vegetables to her cart. Vegetables were a suitable penance for everything. And for good measure, she’d go for her recommended daily thirty minute walk when she arrived home. Unless Gray was there, of course. Then she’d apologize profusely, ask him about his day like a good little almost-wifey then jump the holy hell out of him.

She shuddered, thinking of Lila as she loaded her groceries into the trunk. Six years with no sex seemed like cruel and unusual punishment. She’d had some serious dry spells of her own, often lasting a year or more, but she’d balanced that scale by boinking like bunnies with Gray since they’d gotten together. Then there was that one threesome she’d had in days of yore…

Yeah, not going there. Thank God that particular bone had been tucked into its proper closet, never to be unearthed again. She hoped.

In under an hour, she arrived home and put away her groceries, kicked Simon’s feet off the coffee table just to piss in his Cheerios, exchanged some snark with Nick and enjoyed a big bear hug from Deacon. Harper was out doing her catering thing, and though Jazz missed her, it was probably just as well. Harper and Deak would be moving out as soon as their new house was ready and she had to get used to not having her best friend under the same roof.

Her best friend that wasn’t Gray, that is. He would always come first in everything with her, as he had since the day she’d moved into his parents’ house at the age of fourteen. She still remembered the way he’d swaggered into the living room that first day, wearing a vintage Dokken T-shirt and a face full of attitude. Then he’d noticed the guitar in her lap and the most beautiful friendship of her life had been born.

Glancing down, she rubbed her belly and tried to stem the tide of emotions that seemed way too close to the surface lately. She wanted to blame her hormones. Hell, she’d blame the phases of the moon if she could. Anything was better than realizing that with every passing day of her pregnancy, her family was creeping back into her thoughts.
Her
family, not Gray’s, though she missed them too in spite of everything that had happened between them. Her mama.

And Molly.

Bringing a new life into the world was something to share with those you were close to. She hadn’t been close to her birth family in too many years to count but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss them. It didn’t mean she didn’t hope way down deep that maybe someday they could be reunited.

“Stupid, foolish romantic heart,” she said under her breath. She hurried into the bathroom and shed her clothes before she could be tempted to dig out Molly’s letter again. She would open it when she was ready.

She would be soon. Maybe. Possibly.

She carried her bath stuff to the tub, then added a bunch of bubbles before slipping into the water. The surprisingly cool spring day had make her fantasize about a hot soak all evening. Naturally she’d wished Gray would be home to join her, but as that wasn’t in the cards, she was going to have a fine time on her own.

After sighing her way through the first few steamy minutes, she fumbled for the expensive pair of waterproof headphones she’d bought for this very purpose. She turned on her waterproof radio, setting it to the classical channel before shifting around so her belly poked through the bubbles.

“You ready for the nightly concert, kiddo? Sorry about the noise earlier. Mommy screwed up her part so she had to keep doing it over and over. I bet you probably hate ‘Monster’ now. Me too, but it’ll be kickass live. Uh, I mean kickbutt.” She cast a glance skyward and sent up a quick apology. Lord, this parenting thing wasn’t easy, and she hadn’t even gone through childbirth yet. “Anyway, this music is much more suitable for bedtime. If it doesn’t put you to sleep, I don’t know what will.”

Carefully, she placed the padded headphones on either side of her slightly rounded belly and turned up the volume until she could just barely hear the strains of Chopin. Supposedly babies who were exposed to classical music in the womb were much more likely to be prodigies. She didn’t care if her child was a prodigy. All she wanted was for him or her to be smart and happy and know how much he or she was loved. So very loved.

If the kid happened to be born loving music, that would be a plus.

She tipped her head backward against her little inflatable bath pillow and closed her eyes. God, she was so tired. Exhausted. Worrying all day about the Molly thing and then the stupid not-quite-an-argument with Gray and his subsequent radio silence had worn her down. She knew he was probably just working. He’d told her he was, and she believed him.

She’d believed him before too.

Goose bumps flared over her pinkening skin and she rubbed them away, unwilling to go down that path. He’d kicked the drugs. He’d gotten treatment and he was committed to his sobriety. Borrowing trouble never did anyone any favors.

Maybe if she slept for a bit, when she woke up, Gray would be there.

But what if he wasn’t?

CHAPTER TWO

Gray walked into the bedroom he shared with Jazz at Oblivion’s rented house in the Hollywood Hills, his head buzzing with chords and lyrics. That was his favorite part about all-day and night sessions. If he kept at it, eventually the music hijacked his consciousness and everyday life became superfluous. Problems faded away. Paying bills and forgetting to pick up a card for a birthday or to drop off the dry cleaning—ha, as if the band got stuff dry cleaned—all ceased to be important.

Luckily he’d found that was still true for him even when he wasn’t creating the music on his guitar, but with his pen. In the short time he’d been farming out his songs to artists, he’d already begun to note differences. Some didn’t want what he was selling and intended to fight him at every turn. Others wanted to make sure he knew they needed to put their own mark on his lyrics. Some said it confrontationally, as if they expected him to be a diva about the whole process.

He truly didn’t give a shit. He understood a band needing to add their own flair to the lyrics he came up with. Actually he preferred that. He didn’t want his songs sung by robots just collecting a paycheck. Music
mattered
.

When the group he worked with was like today’s band, The Grunge, collaboration became seriously fun. They’d let him into their practice space and treated him like one of them, rather than an unwanted emissary sent over by a hostile record company as some groups tended to do. By the end of the night, they’d worked on two solid songs and were halfway to a third. He’d even gotten to jam with them, because they were Oblivion fans. How cool was that?

He started to call out for Jazz, then noticed the bathroom door was cracked open and light beamed out from underneath. He grinned and shucked his T-shirt, ready to make up for their sort of argument earlier. He’d been driving without his hands-free headset when her second call had come through, and though he’d fumbled for the phone anyway, he hadn’t gotten it in time. As tempted as he’d been to call her back, he’d known that they would probably get into it again and he needed to keep his head in the game.

Somehow he had to figure out how to express to her the importance of him logging some serious songwriting credentials. If he could crack that nut, they wouldn’t have to worry financially for a damn long time, but she didn’t seem to understand that. So he would keep trying.

In the meantime, he’d make it up to her for their fight the best way he knew how.

His hand lowered to the button of his jeans as he licked his lips and walked toward the partially open door. He could already tell she’d used that watermelon body wash again, and the scent instantly made him hard. Nudging the door open with his foot, he leaned inside, ready to drop his jeans and boxers in about five seconds flat if she seemed interested.

Instead he froze, the greeting on his lips turning into a long exhale.

She was asleep in the tub. The frothy water lapping around her belly and breasts didn’t hide the headphones on her stomach. Tinny classical music played while she slept. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat, her lashes heavy and dark on her porcelain skin. The warmth had pinkened her up, increasing the flush on her throat and nipples.

He shifted. Fuck, he shouldn’t look at her nipples right now. Not when he had a goddamn lump in his throat from the simple sight of her with those headphones, cradling their baby. She’d mentioned playing music for the baby but he’d never actually
seen
it. He had no choice but to drop to his knees beside the tub to rouse her with soft fingertips on her damp cheek.

“Hey,” he murmured when her lids lifted drowsily. “I’m sorry to wake you.” He slipped his hand into the water and frowned at how cool it was. “Come on, let’s get you dried off and into bed.”

“Nuh-uh.” She sat up and nudged away his hand. “I’m fine. What time is it?” Then she slumped back down, sending the headphones plopping into the water. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” He fished out her headphones and shook them off. “Not sure
these
will be here for much longer though.”

“They’re waterproof. I paid a mint for them so the baby could listen to music while I napped.” She yawned. “Turns out napping is something I want to do a lot lately.”

He frowned, noticing the paleness of her cheeks now that the warm water flush was fading. “You’re working yourself too hard. Did you finish in the studio?”

“Yeah.” She turned her cheek toward her inflatable pillow, her eyes already closing again. “Now give me my headphones and I’ll just doze a little longer.”

“Nope. You’re headed to bed. Non-negotiable.”

“But—”

“Non-negotiable,” he repeated, setting the headphones aside before rising and lifting her out of the tub in spite of her sputtering. Foamy water splashed everywhere, dripping from her body as he carted her into the bedroom and laid her down on their bed. “Stay,” he said when she leaned up on one elbow.