Page 24 of The Road to Forever (Beaumont: Next Generation #7)

EIGHTEEN

T his day has been circled on the calendar since Peyton and Noah made all the men in their family take part in a wet T-shirt event. Elle made sure the tour had a break so I could be there for my nephews and niece’s births. My phone buzzes against the table with a text from my sister.

Elle

Car’s outside

“All right, I’m outta here,” I tell the band as I reach for my bag. “Have a fabulous mini vacay without me.” I give the two-finger salute. Because we’ll only have a couple days off, Elle gave the bands a chance to go home or chill at the resort she booked.

Everyone decided to chill.

“What’s wrong?” Dana asks, startling awake from her nap in the sun.

“Peyton’s having the triplets. Remember?”

Her face softens. “Right. Yes, I didn’t forget. Send a ton of pictures.”

“I will.”

Another text arrives.

Elle

Jet’s waiting, see you later, Quinny

“I’m gonna catch a ride with you. I need to pick some things up at the store,” Keane says as he follows me out.

“Let’s go.”

In the car, I stare out the window, my leg bouncing with nervous energy.

I’ve never been an uncle before, although, at times, it feels like I am with Ollie.

I think the huge age gap and the fact that I don’t live at home is what makes my relationship with Ollie feel that way.

It’s my hope he’s as close to the triplets and I am with the twins.

But again, Elle’s having her baby soon and I suspect whether it’s a boy or girl, they’ll be close to Peyton’s.

So many babies and here I am, single.

Sigh .

“You’re going to be great,” Keane says quietly.

I look over at him. “What?”

“As an uncle. You have that . . . thing. Kids are drawn to you.”

I smile despite my nerves. “Thanks, man.”

“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 whether I 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 nurses wheel 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?—”

“Sometimes I like to keep you in suspense. Now go have those babies because someone has to get back for his show tomorrow,” my manager says.

I roll my eyes for show. Elle accepts the blame because it’s the boss thing to do, when in fact, I didn’t want to know Peyton’s delivery date because I thought it would make me anxious throughout the tour. “I’ll be here when you’re out. I’m not leaving until I’ve met my niece and nephews.”

Mom bumps me out of the way and kisses Peyton before the nurses continue down the hall, through the double doors.

We all stand there, in silence, watching her disappear.

As soon as the doors close, mom turns into dad’s chest. I can’t imagine being a parent and knowing they’re about to cut your child open.

Most of us return to the waiting room. Nick says he has some doctorly things to take care, letting us know the staff will page him when the babies are here. He’ll be their pediatrician and get to see them before any of us.

Elle lowers herself into the chair beside me with a groan.

“How are you feeling?” I ask her.

“Like a beached whale,” she mutters. “But excited. Ben’s been amazing.”

I glance over at Ben, who’s deep in conversation with Liam. They’re probably talking about music or the studio. Ben has been handling all the marketing for Liam’s new label.

“And how have the last few stops been?” Elle asks, nudging me with her elbow. “Chandler’s been sending me clips. You guys sound fantastic. I wish I could be there though.”

My eyes glance at her protruding belly. “You have more important things to take care of right now.” I rest my hand on her belly and wait for my niece or nephew to kick. When they don’t right away, I give up.

“I wish I was going back with you. I regret not changing the dates or splitting up the tour. I know this isn’t about me, but I miss being on tour with my bands.”

“You could’ve hired someone to take your place for the last half.”

Elle shakes her head. Giving up control is unlike her, and while she knows we can manage most of everything, hiring an assistant would’ve been a good thing in this case. But there’s no use in arguing with her. “Anyway, things are good. Really good, actually.”

She studies me. “You seem . . . different.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Less . . .” she waves her hand vaguely, “broody.”

I laugh. “Geez, it sounds like I’ve been a total ass while on tour.”

“You know what I mean. How’d that happen?”

I think about telling her about Nola, about what happened, about how I finally let go. But now isn’t the time. Instead, I shrug. “Just needed time, I guess.”

Elle doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push.

“The new songs are blowing up online. We’re going to have to book some studio time to fully record them.”

“Already done.” She grins. “I may not be able to be on the road with you, but I can still manage my bands. I figured with the babies, you’ll want to spend some time here, so I booked you in with Liam.”

“Thanks. The new setlist is working well,” I add.

Elle smirks. “It’s almost like your manager knows what she’s doing.”

I roll my eyes but can’t argue with her. The new arrangement feels right, less like I’m dragging the past into every performance and more like I’m discovering what comes next.

My phone buzzes.

Justine Floyd

Any baby news yet?

Still waiting. They just took her back.

She sends back a laughing emoji and a series of baby-related GIFs that make me smile. Elle notices.

“Who’s got you grinning like that?” she asks, trying to peek at my phone.

I tilt the screen away. “Band stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly skeptical. “Since when does ‘band stuff’ make you smile like that?”

“Since always. I love my job.”

“Right.”

We take turns pacing the halls and making coffee runs. I text with Justine intermittently through it all. She sends me jokes and song lyrics and random thoughts to keep me distracted.

Justine Floyd

If the babies are born on beat, does that make them a rhythm section?

I snort loudly enough that Josie looks up from her magazine.

Noah finally appears in the doorway, looking exhausted. I can tell he’s been crying and pray those tears were out of happiness. Josie stands first, then my mom and I help Elle stand. Slowly, we gather.