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“Tell Peyton and Noah congratulations from all of us.”
The 4225 West jet sits idly on the tarmac. “Someday,” Keane says with a sigh, “Someday, we’ll travel like that.” I don’t bother telling him that despite having a jet at our disposal, even while growing up, during the tour we rarely took it because the bus was easier, especially when shows were the next day or only one day in between.
I pat him on the back and agree. “We’re almost there. Thanks for coming with me.”
“Keep us updated.”
“I will.”
The flight attendant greets me with a sympathetic smile. “We’ll get you there as fast as we can, Mr. James.”
As soon as we’re in the air, I text Justine. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I probably should’ve.
Heading to Beaumont. Peyton’s having the triplets. I’m sorry I bailed without saying goodbye. I hope you have a relaxing couple of days off.
Her response comes almost immediately.
Justine Floyd
No worries! Send pictures when you can!
I smile at her enthusiasm. The exclamation points are so very Justine.
Will do. What are you up to?
Justine Floyd
Just rehearsing with the girls. Wynonna hates the new arrangement for “Glass Houses” but I’m hoping she’ll get over it.
I frown at the last part of her sentence. Wynonna shouldn’t have to get over it, but the three of them should reach a compromise. Justine’s popularity is growing, in part because I keep writing songs with her and she’s become a staple during our show. My fear is this will cause a ton of animosity between Plum and damage their band before they have a chance to take off.
It’s not my place, but Elle’s, to guide these girls through the trials and tribulations of becoming famous. My thumb hovers over the keypad as my mind battles back and forth on whetherI should say something. I decide not to and let the conversation die. Maybe Justine will go back and read what she said and see it on her own.
When the plane lands, I sprint to the waiting car. The driver senses my urgency and makes record time getting me to the hospital, which smells like antiseptic and worry. I pause at the elevator and recall the time when it felt like we all lived in one when Peyton had been in her accident. Each minute, we had no idea if she was going to survive, and now here we are, waiting for her to deliver her babies. I follow the signs to the maternity ward, my footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. When I reach the waiting room, I find my entire family scattered across uncomfortable chairs.
My dad spots me first, jumping to his feet. “You made it!”
I hug him tightly, then my mom, Liam, Josie, Ben, and Elle, whose belly is now prominent enough that I have to hug her sideways.
“How is she?” I ask.
My mom shakes her head. “Noah’s in with her. They’re not letting any of us in, and I’m going to go mad.”
Dad takes mom into his arms. “Her husband is with her and while I’ve never actually experienced childbirth or been with a partner to someone who has, I imagine this is something they need to do on their own.”
My heart seizes at his statement. He’s the best damn dad anyone could ask for, but he wasn’t given the opportunity to be there when I was born. Nor the twins or Ollie.
“Harrison’s right,” Josie says as she comes over to my mom. “If there’s anything wrong, Noah will tell us. Sadly, we just have to wait.”
“Ugh,” mom groans.
I turn at the sound of rubber squeaking against linoleum and smile at the site of Peyton and her massive belly as the nurseswheel her down the hallway. How she ever managed to carry three babies is a miracle. Everyone moves forward and gathers near her bed. When she sees me, her eyes light up with tears.
“Quinn.” She reaches for me.
I grab her hand and hold it tightly. “Hey, kiddo. You didn’t think I’d miss your big moment, did you?”
“Elle said?—”