Reckless (72 page)

Denny spared no expense when it came to giving Abby her dream wedding. Everything was picture-perfect, straight out of a bridal magazine. It was breathtaking. The ceremony took
place at the impressive Fairmont Olympic hotel in downtown Seattle. With twenty-foot ceilings, crystal chandeliers, arched floor-to-ceiling windows, white brocade linens, table skirts, and china
place settings, the place was top-notch.

Kellan and I were both in the wedding party, him as a groomsman, me as a bridesmaid. Standing next to the altar wrapped in pink flowers and twinkling lights brought tears to my eyes. Of course,
that could have been the pregnancy hormones kicking in. I didn’t think so, though. It was watching Denny marry his sweetheart. It was the look on his face when he said, “I do.” It
was seeing Kellan just over Denny’s shoulder, beaming at his friend. It was the trace amount of moisture in my husband’s eyes. It was remembering my vows from my own simple
ceremony.

After the lengthy nuptials, long lines formed to congratulate the happy couple. Dressed in an intricately embroidered, long-sleeved, gleaming white wedding gown, I’d never seen Abby look
more radiant. And I’d never seen Denny more joyful as he proudly stood by her side. When it was finally my turn to hug him, I could barely speak through my emotions. I think I told him I was
happy for him as I squeezed him tight. Wiping a tear from my cheek, he told me, “I’m so glad you’re here. I love you, mate.”

That did me in, and chuckling as I started falling apart, Kellan escorted me away so I could sit down, maybe get some water in me or something. God, if I was this emotional now, I’d never
make it through the next seven months.

“Keep it together, you,” Kellan murmured as he rubbed my back. This wedding was a lot fancier than ours had been, and all of the groomsmen were in full-on tuxedos. Kellan looked
jaw-droppingly good. I’d spotted more than a few guests in the audience who had been watching
him
during the whole ceremony, ignoring the bride and groom.

Pulling out my chair, Kellan helped me sit down. He’d been doing that ever since the Grammys, like he thought I was already feeble. I let him, though. He was still reeling from my surprise
announcement. I was too, but I’d had just a tiny bit longer to get used to the idea.

Each table setting had silver name tag holders with cards written in elegant calligraphy. Seeing my new name,
Mrs. Kiera Kyle,
spelled out made me tear up again. Anna and Griffin sat to
the left of us at the table, Evan and Jenny to our right, and Matt and Rachel completed the circle by sitting across from us. The rest of the tables seemed to be filled with friends and colleagues
of Denny and Abby’s.

After a five-star meal, toasts, and the bride and groom slicing the wedding cake, the D-Bags performed. It had been a really long time since I’d seen the boys perform at a venue this size.
It was like being back at Pete’s. The feeling was more intimate than a concert, the sound crisp and clear; it was incredible. Kellan played with the crowd, riling them up and getting them to
dance. By the end of the night, no one was sitting.

As a gift to Denny and a surprise to Abby, and also, I think, because Kellan didn’t like her song choices, he wrote them a song for their first dance. It was an amazing piece about finding
someone who opened you up, about falling in love with them more and more every day, about feeling breathless when they were gone and out of breath when they were near. Like Kellan, the song was
scintillating, sexy, and also exceedingly heartfelt and romantic. Even though he’d written it for Denny and Abby, I knew the inspiration for it had come from us. It made me cry again.

The newlyweds headed off at the tail end of the evening, disappearing to their suite. They were catching a flight early in the morning. They were going back home to Australia to start their
honeymoon and to have a second wedding ceremony for their friends and family there. I thought Denny was crazy for doing this soiree twice, but it was what Abby wanted, so he was more than happy to
do it.

Kellan and I would also be heading over to Australia, but not for a few more months. The tour was kicking off in Vegas first, yet another place I’d always wanted to visit. Denny had
managed to score Kellan and me our own bus for this tour. Our very own private bus! I could be as loud as I wanted, and no one but Kellan would hear me. Well, Kellan and the bus driver, who I often
forgot about—and our bodyguard. After what had happened in New York, Kellan and I agreed to hire protection for the times we were out in public. It was still an odd concept for me. But the
truth was that Kellan and I attracted attention when we went out, and sometimes that attention was a little too friendly. We didn’t want to take any chances now that I was pregnant.

So, while we wouldn’t be quite as alone as I’d originally thought, we had enough privacy that I was giddy and couldn’t wait for the tour to start.

The first show that the D-Bags headlined was sold out. So was the next. And the next. Whatever city we rolled into, they created a stir. A frenzy of D-Baggery. But it was all
positive, and it was all honest this time—no more duplicitous gossip. The tour was spending three months in the U.S. and Canada and one month overseas. That was a stipulation that Kellan had
insisted on. He didn’t want to be on the road for more than a few months out of the year—especially once the baby was born. After that happened, if I couldn’t be with him for some
reason, then the touring time might be cut back even more. Kellan just didn’t want to miss anything, and I didn’t blame him.

As the tour progressed, so did my stomach. It was astounding how I would seemingly double in size overnight. I went from flat stomach to moderate bump to definite bulge to cantaloupe-sized to
looking like I swallowed a watermelon—just like that! Kellan loved being able to see the progression. He would stare at my belly sometimes when we were in bed together, just watching my skin,
like he was waiting for it to expand before his eyes.

After a few months of him unabashedly staring at my bare stomach, I told him one evening, “A watched pot never boils, you know.”

Pulling his eyes to my face, he murmured, “I know. I’m just imagining how big the baby is. I’m trying to visualize it.”

I smiled at his answer as I stroked his cheek. “I do that too.”

Grinning, Kellan carefully laid his head against the bulge of our child. At five months along, there was a decent amount of room for his head to rest. He stared up at me while I resumed stroking
his smooth skin. “What are you doing?” I finally asked him.

His content expression grew dreamlike. “Listening to her. Or him.” We’d decided not to find out the sex. We wanted to be surprised. And besides, like what happened with Anna,
sometimes the technicians made mistakes.

Laughing, I told him, “No, you’re listening to the chicken parmesan that I had for dinner.” Looking toward the door to our private room on the bus, I murmured, “I wonder
if there’s any of that left.”

Whispering “Shhh . . . I’m listening,” Kellan resumed his intense scrutiny of my digestive system.

Then he started to lightly hum, like he was singing along to my internal noises. I felt a rolling sensation in my stomach as the baby moved. Kellan’s eyes widened, and he looked up at me.
I laughed at the look on his face. “Keep humming,” I told him.

He did, and the baby moved again, then kicked. Kellan smiled as I sighed and said, “The baby likes Daddy’s voice.”

Lifting his head, Kellan crooked a smile. “Just like his mom. Or
her
mom.”

For a minute, I debated what I wanted more, him or the chicken in the fridge. I ended up choosing what I always chose. Pulling Kellan to my lips, I reveled in the one perk of pregnancy that we
were both enjoying—a ramped-up sex drive.

When I moved into my seventh month, the D-Bags went international. Kellan was worried at first about me continuing to be on the tour. He didn’t want to run the risk of me giving birth
backstage; he wanted me to be as safe as possible. I told him it was fine, we would be home long before I was due. Kellan didn’t really want to be away from me then anyway, so my words easily
convinced him. Plus, I told him we could finally become members of the Mile High club during the super-long flight to Australia. Since Kellan had never had sex on a plane before, he was intrigued,
to say the least. Considering how far along I was, joining the club was a challenge. It took a lot of finagling, skill, and a hand clamped over my mouth. Airplane-bathroom sex made tour
bus–cubby sex seem spacious in comparison, but we managed to pull it off. A giggling air stewardess even gave us wings afterwards. Kellan wore his pinned to his shirt the entire time we were
Down Under.

So, while I was plump and full of life, I roamed a rock concert with a rock star. The band was playing in Perth first, then heading over to Sydney and Brisbane. The backstage area was full of
contest winners, diehard groupies, radio personalities, the crew, and members of the bands. While security was present and watchful, Kellan insisted that the fans weren’t confined to a
meet-and-greet room and were allowed to roam and mingle with the rock stars. Clumps of them were even allowed to stay during the concert, something Sienna had never allowed. But Kellan still wanted
some level of intimacy with his fans. That made writing more of a challenge for me, since just as many of his fans wanted to talk with Mrs. Kyle too. But laptop in hand, I found a spot to listen to
him perform and work on my writing.

Since publishing my first book, I had really started focusing on my second book. Maybe it was the countless hours that Kellan had read
Pride and Prejudice
to me, but the storylines that
filled my mind were all Jane Austen–style historical romances. I found that time period fascinating and engrossing, and now that my autobiographical story was purged from my mind, I loved the
idea of doing something different and shifting away from contemporary novels.

Periodically while writing, I watched my man on stage. He was having such a good time on this tour. He loved hanging out with Holeshot and Avoiding Redemption. The three bands meshed well,
personality-wise and musically. In fact, when the tour was over, Justin and Kellan were going to record a collaboration, a song they’d both been working on during quiet times. I’d heard
the guys practicing the song together, and it gave me chills. I couldn’t wait for the fans to hear it.

Kellan and the guys were planning on recording the album in Seattle this time, keeping it close to home, since I would be so much closer to delivering by then. Nick was fine with it, though.
Truthfully, Nick was fine with a lot of stuff recently. After the scandal with Sienna, he’d been scared straight by his father. That man did
not
want to lose his two largest acts
because of the manipulative way his son had been running things.

True to her word, Sienna kept her distance from us. She’d congratulated the boys for their Grammy win at an after party, but that was about all we’d heard from her. Her album had
plummeted after her soulful, honest public apology, but she was slowly starting to bounce back. And I had no doubt in my mind that she would. If anything, the woman was tenacious.

By the time the tour was over, I was ready to go home. I was tired and very, very pregnant. I had a newfound respect for Anna for staying on the tour right up until the very
end of her pregnancy. It was fun on the road, but it was a draining lifestyle. I was eager to see my sister again too. So was Griffin. Anna had decided not to join the boys on this tour. Gibson was
getting into a stage where she needed more attention and guidance—absolutely everything went into that girl’s mouth—so Anna had stayed home with her. I was very proud of my sister
for putting the baby’s needs first. That was leaps and bounds from the Anna I’d grown up with. She’d been worried about it, but she was a great mom. I hoped I’d be just as
great.

When I hit my ninth month of pregnancy, I was done with it. I was huge. I was exhausted. My feet were swollen. My back ached. I could not find a comfortable sleeping position to save my life.
And my amped-up sex drive had sizzled away to nothing. I wanted this child out of my body.

Kellan did everything he could to appease me. He drove a half an hour away just to get me one specific kind of ice cream. He gave me back massages every night. He even tried to give me a
pedicure, which made me laugh so hard that my feet were shaking and the bright red nail polish ended up smeared all over my toes and his hands. It was sweet, though.

Just when I accepted the fact that I was going to be pregnant forever, I started having contractions. I immediately wrote down when they happened and how long they lasted. Kellan noticed me
scribbling in one of his lyric journals and rested his head on my shoulder. “Whatcha doin’?”

Staring at a stop watch, I counted the seconds as I breathed through the pain. “I’m logging my contractions.”

“You’re what?” Kellan turned me to face him; his eyes were wide and panicked. “Is it time? Should I take you to the hospital now? I’ll start the car. And I’ll
get your bag. Shoot, I need to put the car seat in.”

He took off before I could answer a single one of his questions. “Kellan! It’s . . . still early.” My contractions were mild and still really far apart. Even I knew we had
plenty of time.

He was a flurry of activity, though, so I didn’t bother explaining that to him. I simply sat on the couch and waited to log my next contraction. Kellan dashed around the house grabbing
things he thought we needed and muttering to himself about things he was sure he was forgetting. “Kiera, will we need diapers? I’m grabbing diapers. We should bring diapers.”

Over my shoulder I yelled out, “Kellan! I’m sure the hospital will have some.” He didn’t respond to me, and I was sure the trunk of the Chevelle was going to be loaded
with enough diapers to cover the bottoms of half the children in Seattle.

I glanced over at my mom, calmly sitting beside me. Not wanting to miss another grandbaby’s birth, she had flown to Seattle pre–due date. Dad was going to join her once the baby was
here. “He’s a wreck,” I said.