Untwisted (7 page)

“I think the bigger problem is how you feel about us.”

“I love you, you know that.” Mrs. Duffy’s voice broke. “What did I ever do to make you doubt that?”

“Want a list?” He pulled Jazz against his chest and caged her in with his arms as he turned them both to face Mrs. Duffy. “Top of it was when you made me choose her over you. I may be a former drug addict and a current asshole, but I’ll tell you this much—my kid will never have to choose between me and someone they love. Someone whose only crime was loving him back.”

Jazz shut her eyes against the prickle that heralded an oncoming onslaught. “Let her come with us,” she whispered, not sure he could hear her over the wild beat of her heart.

He braced, tension leaking from the arms holding her safe. “You can’t honestly want that.”

“I do.” She opened her eyes and met Mrs. Duffy’s gaze. The gratitude she saw reflected on her face strengthened her voice. “She’s lost a lot too.”

Gray released her and stepped back. He pushed a hand through his shaggy dark hair and turned away. “As you wish.”

Jazz watched him leave, a lump in her throat.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Duffy said quietly. “You don’t know how much this means.”

Jazz said nothing, just picked up her plate of cold food and took it into the living room to eat in the quiet. She’d probably made a mistake by trying to smooth things over.

Another
mistake. The list was growing by the hour.

***

Gray stared at the ultrasound monitor while the doctor prattled on about statistics and vital signs and more information than he could ever possibly have a hope of retaining. The most salient point was on the tiny screen in front of him.

Jazz had an actual baby inside her. Not in theory, not someday far in the future. Now. She was carrying his baby, and that baby had its leg up just high enough for them to see the very obvious equipment between his legs.

His
. They were having a boy.

His mother was asking a million questions, as usual. Did everything seem okay? Was the pregnancy proceeding according to schedule? And Jazz kept pulling at her paper gown and swallowing loudly, a sure sign she was about to cry. She’d always hated crying, and before the last few months, he could’ve counted on one hand how many times he’d seen her with tears in her eyes. Lately it seemed to be a near-constant thing.

Right then, he understood. They were having a fucking baby.

By the time he led her out a short time later, she’d given into full-scale sniffling and his mother had lapsed into silence. Since he hadn’t come out of his own fog yet, he couldn’t even summon any annoyance that his mother was there—or that Jazz had overruled his thoughts on the subject. None of that mattered.

Only one thing did. He glanced at Jazz as she dried her cheeks and swallowed hard. Two things.

His kid, and his wife.

He waited until his mom slipped into the backseat of the car and shut the door. Then he turned Jazz toward him and gripped her elbows until she lifted her face to his. The sunshine illuminated the faint tracks on her cheeks, making them glisten. He wanted to kiss them away. To make sure she never had another reason to cry anything but happy tears for the rest of her life.

“You’re done in the studio.” It wasn’t a question. It was a low statement deliberately said beneath the hearing range of his mother closed inside the car.

Sensing the urgency of his mood, Jazz nodded. “Yes.”

“Does Harper have a catering job tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.”

“Call her and find out.”

“Why?”

He couldn’t help but smile at the suspicion in her voice. “Because we’re going to meet your sister and she should be there.”

Jazz frowned. “We’re going now to meet Molly?”

He nodded. “No time better than the present, right? You heard me tell Luc that I’d be unavailable for a few days.”

“Yeah,” Jazz said slowly, “but why does Harper need to be there?”

“Moral support.”

“But I have you.”

Her simple response caused the tightness to return to his throat. He smiled through it, his thumbs circling on the insides of her elbows. “Yeah, you do. I just think Harper should be there too.”

“We’re just driving up for the day, right?”

“Honey, we both know a day won’t be enough.”

Jazz glanced at the ground then lifted her head, a smile playing around her mouth. “You know me too well.”

“Just ask Harper if she can come up overnight with us. If need be, I’ll drive her back the next day and you can stay with your sister until I get back.”

“My sister.” The tears were back in her eyes, and this time, they weren’t merely happy. “God, I’m not sure I’m ready for this. It’s not just about seeing her. If my mom’s there too…”

“We’ll cross that bridge together. Call Harper,” he said, rounding the car to slip into the driver’s side.

Just as he expected, Jazz leaned against the door and placed her call. He’d banked on her not wanting to make it in front of his mother, which played right into his hands.

“You really claim to love me?” he asked in an undertone, facing straight ahead.

“How can you ask that?” His mother huffed out a breath. “Of course I do. Your father does too. You’re all we have left. You and the baby—”

“And Jazz,” he interrupted. “You don’t get me or that kid without her. She’s the only reason you’re here right now. Remember that.”

His mother fell silent.

He flexed his fingers around the steering wheel, speaking quickly as Jazz laughed loudly outside the car. Her distraction was perfect timing. “I need your help.”

“Whatever you need,” his mother said quickly enough to stir the guilt he hadn’t realized he had left in her direction. He’d buried it under anger and hurt and resolve so many years ago that he’d figured it had ebbed away entirely.

“We’re driving to San Jose to meet Jazz’s sister today. Tomorrow I need you to get the band to San Francisco. I’ll tell you the exact location in a couple hours after I make some calls.” He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Can you do that for me?”

Her lips trembled before they firmed. “You’re going to marry her.”

“Yes.”

He waited for her to tell him he was making a mistake. That he needed to take time to think, to allow the emotion that had arisen from the doctor’s visit to fade before he made rash decisions he couldn’t take back.

Instead she nodded and gave him a small smile. “I can do that.”

He sucked in a breath. “Thank you.”

“You’re my son.”

He didn’t give the words a chance to take root inside him where they could weaken the walls he’d constructed so carefully. “And Lila,” he said, increasing his grip on the wheel. “She should be there too. Harper will probably ride up with us.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of it.” She didn’t offer any appeals for herself or his father, and that was what broke him.

“You and Dad can come too,” he said finally, forcing himself to open his eyes. Hers were damp and riveted to the reflection of his in the rearview mirror. “If you want,” he added when she didn’t speak.

“
If
we want?” She laughed brokenly. “Oh Gray. Being part of your life is all we want.”

Jazz pulled open the door and cast a wary glance at the backseat before slipping into the passenger seat.

“Well?” he demanded.

“She has a job tonight. She’s really sorry.”

“What about tomorrow? Is she busy then?”

“I’m not sure.” She peered at him closely. Too closely. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Never mind. We’ll figure it out.” He snapped on his belt and reversed too swiftly, belatedly realizing she was still staring at him and hadn’t belted herself in yet. “Put on your seatbelt.”

“I would have, if you hadn’t dislocated my neck from my spinal column back there.” Shaking her head, she snapped her belt into place. “What is your deal? You’re acting seriously weird. Is it the baby thing?” She sighed. “I know you wanted a girl. Are you disappointed?”

“Disappointed? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gray,” his mother said. “Language, please.”

“Yes. Little ears,” Jazz reminded him, cupping her stomach as if he’d forgotten who she was referring to.

“No, I’m not disappointed.” He struggled to keep his voice even as he finished backing out of the spot and drove out of the lot. “I told you I’d be happy with either one.”

“I know.”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you disappointed?”

“Oh God, no. I’m thrilled beyond belief for a boy. They’re so much fun. I bet he’ll look just like you. He’s already very—athletic,” she said, wiggling her brows in a way that indicated she wasn’t talking about sports.

“Hmm. That is true. But you’ve got some flexibility going yourself.”

Her mouth twitched as she tried not to grin. “Besides, Harper was right. I’ll just keep trying until I get my girl.”

His mother made a choked sound in the back, and for once, he didn’t get annoyed. He just laughed. “Is that so? Do I have a say in the matter?”

“Sure. You can say yes.”

He laughed again and reached across the console for her hand, cupping it against her belly. “When it comes to you, I don’t know any other word.”

CHAPTER FOUR

When she’d mentioned wanting to visit Molly as soon as possible, she hadn’t meant
this
.

After heading back to the house to say goodbye to Gray’s mother—who had seemed unnaturally misty-eyed, which might have been a byproduct of the ultrasound appointment or just that day’s smog activity—and to pack a couple of bags, they were on the road again to San Jose. About an hour into the trip, Jazz came to two conclusions.

They hadn’t called Molly to ascertain she was willing to see them so soon. Or hell, that she would even be home.

And she was hungry. Seriously freaking hungry.

The second issue was solved with a quick detour through the drive-thru, though she was guilted into getting a salad with her chocolate shake. Not that she cared. Even wilted lettuce under fat free dressing tasted absolutely glorious.

The first issue involved a phone call that had Jazz’s now sated belly crawling with nerves as the phone rang.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

Jazz inhaled sharply at the sound of the girl’s rich, alto voice, causing Gray to look her way in obvious alarm. She waved him off. “Hello, Molly? Is this Molly?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“It’s Jazz.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, Mine.”

“Mine?” Molly repeated, as if the word didn’t quite make sense. Because it didn’t. What kind of nickname was Mine? But then Molly laughed, and Jazz relaxed in her seat. “Oh wow, Mine. I just remembered that. I used to call you Mine.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Wow.”

Silence hummed over the line and Jazz bit her lip, wondering what to say next. “Um, I got your letter. We’re on our way to come see you. If that’s okay.”

“Really? Like now?”

“Yes. We’re a few hours away.”

“Oh shit. I mean, yeah, that’s great. I just—I need to clean up. Like a lot. Um, can you call before you get here?”

“That’s what this is.” Jazz laughed weakly. “I’m calling ahead to let you know we’re on the way.”

“Oh. Right. That’s cool. I mean, can you call when you’re about an hour away? I’m kind of busy right now but I want to make sure to shovel out the place before you arrive.”

“Where’s Mom? Can’t she help?”

“Nah, I’m good. Anyhoo, thanks for the heads up. See ya soon, sis. Bye!”

The phone went dead.

Jazz reached for her chocolate shake and took a quick drink to wet her dry throat. God, she was so nervous she was practically shaking. Molly was her sister. Her flesh and blood. She had absolutely no reason to be anxious. She could practically see the Oprah-style tearful family reunion unfolding now.

“Well? What did she say?”

Jazz wiped her mouth and stuck her now empty cup back into the holder. Why hadn’t she gotten a large? A small hadn’t been nearly enough. In fact, she wanted to keep drinking that cool chocolatey goodness until she floated away on—

“Jazz? Hello?”

“Sorry. She was perfectly polite. She seemed delighted we were on the way.”

Molly had said she was busy. That was probably why she wasn’t more excited. She had to ‘shovel out’ the place, and no one looked forward to cleaning.

“She was pleasant,” she added into the silence. “Very much so.”

“So you’ve said, several times. Which means to me that she wasn’t ‘delighted’ at all.”

“Don’t be a jerk. I’m still hungry, by the way.”

Unsurprisingly, he ignored her plantive request for food. “What did she say?”

“Not much. She was busy. We should’ve given her more noticed or hell, even called to ask if she was ready for visitors. It was wrong to fucking assume.”

He lifted a brow. “Language there, Sailor Boy.”

It was her turn to ignore him. “I mean, it was probably presumptuous on our part. Just because she sent a letter and said she missed me and wanted to get to know me, that didn’t mean right away. Hey, there’s a chicken place. Let’s go there.”

“If we get off the freeway again, we’re going to get stuck in rush hour traffic.”

“Okay. Do you think they have bourbon chicken?” Jazz gazed longingly out the window at the passing billboard. “The baby wants chicken. It’s not me.”

“Right.” He leaned forward and opened the glove box, then tossed an ancient granola bar in her lap. “Eat that. I’m not getting off the freeway again unless you want to turn around and go home.”

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

“Jazz. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” She sighed and tore at the wrapper of the granola bar she had zippo interest in. “This doesn’t feel like an Oprah reunion, and I kind of had my heart set on one.” She bit into her snack and nearly broke a tooth, but she kept eating it anyway because at least it contained crusty chocolate chips. “Harper’s right. I’m an idiot.”

He frowned. “Harper calls you an idiot? I thought she was your best friend.”

“She is. And she doesn’t say that exact word, but I am. She thinks I’m too soft. Basically a runny egg who never buys a clue.”

“Yeah, I’m not following this conversation at all.” He grabbed his iPhone and flipped it to a metal track, turning it up until she could barely think.