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“She’s barely made a peep since I picked her up.”
“Do they teach you avoidance while on tour?”
I nod and sigh. “Nola’s not going to text or call or send a gift because she doesn’t know unless you’ve posted it on social media. We’re not together anymore and haven’t been since before the tour. Turns out, she was having an affair with one of her professors. Apparently, the musician life is not for her,” I say with a shrug before filling him in on everything, including the note she left, our talk at the park, and what she’s been up to most of our relationship.
“Shit,” Noah says quietly.
“Understatement.”
“So, now what?”
Juniper stops sucking and I look at Noah for help. He instructs me on how to burp her. I move her back to my chest and rub her back and continue to rock in the chair.
“So, now I tell everyone. Probably tomorrow because I’m sure my parents are going to wonder where she is, and then I move on.”
“Are you ready to move on?”
“Yeah, I am,” I say confidently. “It’s like as soon as she told me she’d been cheating for a year, everything just lifted off my shoulders and any feelings I had for her were gone. I think it’s because I had months of mourning what I thought was a solid relationship, when it in fact, it wasn’t. I finally feel free. I feel at ease, and I’m not anxious. It sucked wondering what was going to set her off at any given time.”
“I can understand that. Sometimes, the tension was so thick between the two of you, it made for awkward times.”
Juniper lets out a belch that could rival Hendrix after a few beers. “Geez, little lady that was loud.”
“Wait until she farts,” Noah adds. “The guys in the locker room ain’t got nothing on her.”
“So, lady like,” I say as I cradle her. Juniper finally opens her eyes. Right now, they’re blue but I think they’ll probably change. I know it’s only my imagination, but the way she looks at me, it’s like she’s attaching herself to my soul. It’s almost as if she knows she’s going to be my favorite.
“I’ve sort of been seeing someone.” I don’t bother to look at Noah. His daughter is far more interesting. I also don’t wait for him to ask. “It’s Justine, the lead singer of Plum. She’s sort of been my rock through all of this, a sounding board for my melodramatic lyrics. I like her a lot and she likes me.”
“But?”
Another heavy sigh. “But Elle’s her manager and the last thing I want to do is complicate her life or fuck her shit with Elle. She already has to deal with Hendrix and Dana being exes, I don’t want to add anymore relationship drama to her plate.”
“You’re her brother first. She’d want you happy.”
“Not at the expense of an up-and-coming band. One she’s nurtured from the ground up and taken under wing. Hell, she even has your dad singing on their new album.”
Noah’s quiet for a moment and then stands. “I’m going to go check on my wife and boys. Are you good here with her?”
“We’re perfect.” Juniper grips my finger in her tiny hand.
“You know, if I hadn’t been so worried about what people thought of me, I would’ve started dating Peyton the day she turned eighteen. I missed out on a lot of time with her. Time, I regret. Time, I can’t get back. Had we been together, she wouldn’t have been in that accident because she would’ve never gotten into that car. Don’t make the same mistake I made, worrying about what others think. If you want to pursue something with Justine, do it. I got your back.”
His words settle over me while his daughter coos. “Thanks, Noah.”
“Anytime.”
He shuts the door, leaving Juniper and me alone. I take my phone out and position Junie perfectly and snap a photo. Being the good uncle I am, I show it to her for approval before sending it off to the only other girl I’d like to be with right now.
TWENTY-TWO
As a musician, I’ve slept in some strange positions. Up against an amp, on a bus, on a couch that was too small for my frame. One time, I snoozed against the wall, after taking a break. That’s the life of a rocker. For the last handful of hours, I slept in a rocking chair, holding the cutest little girl I’ve ever had the chance to lay my eyes on.
My niece screams before the sun comes up, startling the crap out of me. Out of pure fear, I carry her down the hall to her parents and hand my future metal singing niece to her mother and immediately close my eyes when my sister lifts her shirt and starts feeding her baby.
“My eyes, my eyes,” I say as I scramble from the bedroom. Noah laughs and Peyton says something incoherently, but it sounds like, “grow up.”
Downstairs, I make a pot of coffee, put some kibble in Stevie Nicks’ bowl, and check my phone, hoping for a text from Justine. While it would be nice to have one, I sent the photo late while she was sleeping, and we are rarely up this early. I don’t have to wonder if she’s going to text me back, it’s just a matter of when.