Page 29 of The Road to Forever (Beaumont: Next Generation #7)

TWENTY-ONE

T he text from my dad comes in the middle of my show.

I see the message during a quick break. Dana takes them to change clothes, but I use the few seconds to down water or change my shirt.

I hate performing in a wet T-shirt, even though it reminds of the way Noah made us participate in the triplet’s gender reveal.

Elle’s water broke. Finish the set. Jet will be waiting.

This time, I ride to the airport by myself.

I thought about asking Justine to come with me, at least to the airport, but her absence from the after-show dinner one of our sponsors set up for us would look rather suspicious.

I already feel like I’m being securitized by Keane and with good measure.

Mixing romance and work is never a smart thing to do, especially in this business.

Relationships can go south so damn fast, and then what.

It would be one thing if Justine didn’t have the same manager, but she does, which makes whatever is going on between us even more dangerous . . .

. . . nah, it’s not danger. It’s playing with fire. It’s taking a lit match to a can of gasoline and seeing how high Justine and I can make the flame. So no, not dangerous.

It’s deadly.

And I should walk away before either of dig a trench so deep a ladder won’t help us get out of the hole.

Walking away is the smartest thing to do.

This is one of those life lessons: where you finally realize you can’t have everything you want.

At one point in my life, I wanted Nola. I thought she was my everything, my reason for being who I am as a person and a musician.

She was my muse or I thought she was. It took this tour to show me how wrong I was.

Actually, how wrong she was for me.

I wasn’t wrong for falling in love with her and asking her to marry me.

Deep down, I truly believe she and I had to happen for a reason.

Someday, I’ll wake up and know the reason.

Right now, though, I’m not sad we’re over.

I suppose maybe a part of me should miss her, but I don’t, and that’s because of Justine.

From the moment the tour started Justine was there, by my side. She sensed things weren’t right and instead of probing or pushing me to talk about my feelings, she supported me. Justine offered me a shoulder to cry on. She gave me something to look forward to every night when we’d perform together.

It’s not that I feel like I owe her a chance to be with me.

It’s that I owe myself a chance to be with her.

I owe myself a chance to not feel like I’m walking on eggshells.

That’s how Nola made me feel, especially the last handful of months before she did us a favor and left me.

Every time we were together, mostly with my family, it was like I had to be on my best behavior, that no matter what I did, she was mentally tsking my actions.

Never mind any time we ever spent with her parents, which was never.

She didn’t have to tell me they didn’t approve of me.

Toward the end, any time I would suggest we set a date to get married, I saw it on her face.

It’s too bad she couldn’t say the words and save us all the trouble of pretending.

Nola was never going to choose me over them.

And I would’ve never chosen her over mine .

Maybe we were doomed from the start.

“Mr. James, your plane is landing now,” the flight attendant said as he pointed out the windshield. “Is there anything else I can do for you this evening?”

“No thank you. Do you know if my manager took care of your fees?”

“Yes, sir. I’m paid.”

I nod and exit the car with my duffel slung over my shoulder. One of the benefits of going home is knowing my mom will do my laundry and likely restock all my clothing. Although, she’s probably not going to want to leave the twins with their babies.

But then again, if I remind her, her first son needs new boxers . . . who am I fooling. My mom isn’t going to leave and go shopping. She’ll have everything ordered, in three sizes, and send whatever doesn’t fit back.

As the plane taxis down the runway, I scroll through my phone.

Mostly watching TikTok videos and having a minor panic attack when I realize Christmas is in a few days and I haven’t bought my family any gifts.

I have no idea what to get any of them. What do you buy people who have everything?

I type the words “Christmas gift” into the search bar of the app and look through videos of what people are buying, have bought, or bought last year.

There is one thing that sparks a bit of interest for the women in my life.

I’m not sure if I’ll be able to pull it off, but I’m going to try like hell.

The men in my life are another story.

What do you get two, aging rockers, who are hell bent on one upping each other in the grandparent department?

As soon as I have the thought, I know exactly what I’m getting them and close the app to open my email to send a request to the merch company Sinful Distraction uses.

Even though it’s short notice, I know they’ll come through for me.

As the plane touches down my phone rings. “Hey,” I say to Liam as I wait for the plane to pull to the hangar. “What’s up?” Even as I ask, I already know it’s about Elle.

“Your dad says we need to hurry. I’m outside.”

The door opens, I walk down the first two steps and then jump, running toward Liam’s car as soon as my feet touch the pavement.

“Buckle up,” he says as he tears out of the airport as fast as he can with his flashers on. “Things good?”

“Yeah. Tour’s going well.”

“Nah, with you,” he says as he maneuvers around cars.

His question gives me a pause. I smile and nod.

“Yeah, I’m really good.” I am, because the past few weeks with Justine have been refreshing.

No, I take that back. This tour has been amazing because of her.

She didn’t allow me to wallow in self-pity but allowed me to grieve my long-term relationship in my own way.

Liam screeches to a stop at the entrance of the hospital. I don’t bother with my bag and barely thank him as I get out of the car. Someone tells me to stop running, which I ignore. For all they know I’m the expected father and I need to get to the maternity ward.

At the nurse’s station, I stop and try to catch my breath. “Where?—”

The nurse smiles and points, “508.”

My expression must question her.

“I know who you are and who your family is. Your sister is in 508.”

“Thanks.” I don’t know who she is, but she needs a raise.

I push the door open and find my family gathered around, my mom with her hand over her mouth.

My chest heaves, working to fill my lungs with air.

“Liam called and said . . .” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know what I was going to say next is wrong.

Yes, he called, but he also picked me up and drove like a madman to get me here.

“I missed it?”

In my sister’s arms are two babies, both wearing blue hats.

She had twins . . . she had two babies when I thought she was going to have one.

Her one was supposed to be my best friend.

The odd man out. Peyton’s babies would all have each other, and Elle’s one would have no one, except me because I understood what it was like to be on the outside, to watch Peyton and Elle live in their own world.

Sure, we are close, but their bond is different.

I was going to be that bond for Elle’s baby . . .

. . . and now I don’t have anyone.

“Actually, you’re right on time,” Elle says. “I’d like you to meet my youngest son, Sonny Quinn Miller.”

At the mention of his name, my head spins. I know I joked about Peyton naming her daughter Quinnella, but I would’ve been on my knees begging her not to do something like that. I never thought in a million years either of my sisters would give one of their kids my name. Even as a nickname.

“Wow, he has my name.” Tears cloud my vision, and my throat tightens with emotion.

“Of course he does, Quinny. Did you really think your sisters would have five kids in the matter of weeks and not give one of them your name?”

I look from Elle to my dad with tears tipping the rim of my eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Dad chuckles.

“For this.” I look at around at my family. Other than my dad, I’m not related to a single one of them, except by a piece of paper and love. “For giving me this life when you could’ve easily shut the door and never looked back, for giving me this family.”

My eyes find our mom, our rock, the one who made sure we had a normal upbringing and experienced everything we could. “Being your son, their brother, and now an uncle is literally the best part of my life.”

Elle chokes out a sob. “Well shit, Quinn. You can’t say emo shit to a woman who just had a baby.”

“Two,” Peyton says.

“Right, what she said,” Elle qualifies.

I move in for closer look at my nephews. Peyton steps to the other side of Elle as she adjusts her boys.

“Whenever I mess up, don’t worry. Your auntie P and uncle Quinny will take care of you. Believe me, their phone numbers will be the first thing you memorize.”

“You’re not going to mess up, E,” I lean in and whisper.

We visit for another hour, taking turns holding the boys and trying to find any distinguishing marks so we’ll be able to tell them apart. I catch a ride back to Noah and Peyton’s after taking them up on their suggestion I stay with them.

As if the triplets are partly mine, I follow the new parents upstairs. Noah looks at me over his shoulder with a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ look but says nothing as I follow them into the boy’s room. I immediately walk through the bathroom and take the spot Liam vacated in Juniper’s room.

No one taught me not to wake a sleeping baby, so I pick her up and carry her over to the rocker. On the table, next to the chair, is a stack of books. The first one being A Visit from St. Nicholas .