Page 101 of Conviction

I climb up on the bed with her, kissing first her belly, then her mouth.

“You’re not crap at this. You’re just too little.”

“It’s your fault. Our kids all have big fat heads like you.” I chuckle at her instant mood change. Meebs is the happiest pregnant woman I know. She loves being pregnant, and I fucking love her being pregnant. That’s why she’s about to give birth to our third child, in less than five years. There’s just something that brings out the caveman in me when I watch her belly growing. Not that she ever gets very big. She moans that she’s huge, but she just looks like she has a basketball shoved up her T-shirt.

She tried for a natural delivery with both boys, but that didn’t work out. She was hoping that because we’re having a girl this time, she might be smaller and she’d be able to do it, but that’s now being ruled out. I hate that she’s disappointed but at the end of the day, why would any woman choose to put themselves through that, seriously?

“Our kids don’t have fat heads, they have perfect heads, they’re perfect in every way. Just like their mum.”

Shit, more tears.

I carry Buzz on myhip, while Jett walks beside me proudly carrying the pink teddy bear that we went and bought for their new baby sister this morning. Mia Grace Amoeba Reed was born safely at seven-eighteen last night. She’s tiny, pink, pale and perfect. She looks just like her mum, which I’m more than pleased about. Poor Meebs didn’t get a look in with the boys, the pair of them are clones of each other, and of me. Brownish blond hair and blue-green eyes. Jett’s the eldest and is about to start school in September. He’s loud and noisy, can’t sit still for more than five minutes and is always asking questions. He started playing football last season and is already the captain of his team.

Buzz… Yeah, we let Jett choose his name, Buzz being the better option over Nemo or Lightning McQueen. He’s another little livewire. Loves music. I’m already teaching him the guitar and drums. Jett loves music too but can’t sit still long enough for me to teach him anything.

We get buzzed into the ward, and I smile and nod at the midwives at their station. They all swoon, what can I say? I’m still Conner fucking Reed at the end of the day.

I’m not out front and centre of the music world so much these days. I write, I produce, and I manage.

Mitchell White is the young kid that handed me some songs he wrote, the night before Jet died. I’d completely forgotten about them, but Meebs found them about six months later. We read them, and both knew instantly they were something special.

I used him to buy myself into CC music and promotions and now work alongside Marley and Lennon Layton, with Mitchell as my little protégé. He’s been living with us this last summer while he worked on his new album. Myself and Marley both appearing on tracks with him. The first was a multi-award winner, and I’m sure this new one will do the same. He’s a talented boy.

We round the corner to Meebs’ room. She’s sitting cross-legged, Indian style on the bed. She’s wearing a pair of hammer pants and an old Shift T-shirt of mine. She’s always wearing an old Shift T-shirt of mine, and I fucking love it. Seeing her in my clothes never gets old, and right at this moment, I’m swallowing back tears. My T-shirt is hoisted up while Meebs feeds our daughter at her boob. She looks up, and when her eyes meet mine, I want to drop to the floor, crawl to where she sits and worship at her feet. She’s my princess, my love and watching my boys climb up on the bed and meet their sister for the first time, I know I’ve achieved what I thought for so long was out of reach… My very own fairy tale.

The hairdresser and the Rock Star got their happily ever after.