Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

Margo laughed. “Yes, we’ll keep the name lemon drop for now. But if we’re keeping it a secret from everyone, maybe it should be a secret to us too. You know, a surprise.”

“I can’t wait that long. I can’t even wait to give you Christmas presents and I only buy them a few weeks ahead.”

At the doctor’s bright smile, Margo shrugged. “He’s weird, but he’s mine.”

“Well, I think it’s adorable. I’m glad to see this surprise is a wanted one.” The doctor wiped off the gel. “Next visit, we’ll get a better picture of your little one. I’ll get a printout for you while you’re getting dressed.”

Margo sat up and looped her arm around Simon’s waist. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Margo tipped up her chin to find Simon dashing away a few tears of his own. She tugged him down by his shirt and kissed him. “Look what we made.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Fucking amazing.”

Leave it to her husband to drop the f-bomb in the middle of sweetness. It was how he’d won her over, after all.

He cupped her face. “So, what do you think about getting a real house to go with our new lemon drop?”

“What? We can make the penthouse—”

“No. I want the baby to have a backyard and a place for a dog or whatever.”

“A dog?”

“Yeah, a crazy mutt like Nick’s. I want that for us too.”

She pressed her cheek into his hand. “Well, I guess we’re getting a house then.”

He swung her off the exam table and hugged her. “This is going to be fucking awesome.”

Twelve

Cocking my head, I grinned. Perfect.

I’d placed Zoe’s stolen camera on the bed and wrapped a spare towel around the top of it like a turban. After captioning it “spa day,” I uploaded it to Instagram and tagged Zoe as I did every day.

It was a rare bit of recreation in a life that suddenly didn’t leave me a lot of free time.

The world of a rockstar—even one in training, like me—moved about a dozen times faster than the regular world. I thought I understood that prior to signing on the dotted line with Ripper Records.

I knew nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

After the meeting with Sabrina—or Rina, as her friends called her, and her friends were not me—and Roman at Ripper Records, I’d been ushered to Roman’s design studio for a “lifestyle assessment” and profile, and a lengthy chat with Roman about my preferences in everything from hem length to whether I tucked left or right. I was informed that normally Roman would’ve had one of his top assistants interview me, but Rina was a good friend so I got the special treatment.

Which I suspected was bollocks. Somehow overnight, I’d gone from lukewarm interest to “sign this guy now.” I supposed the fact that my Instagram followers had gone from sixteen to more than ten thousand in that timespan didn’t hurt.

Who knew heckling Zoe would garner so much attention? My singing was an afterthought to my hair and my accent and my rings, but it was a start.

Sabrina sat at my side the entire time at Roman’s. She also remained in the room during myriad fittings and clothes selections. I’d balked momentarily, but only for a moment. I didn’t mind stripping in front of women as a rule. Just usually I’d at least kissed them first.

This was a far different situation. She knew more about my dick than my physician, and it didn’t even phase her. Or me, beyond the first five minutes or so, because I knew she was just trying to show it off like a prize summer sausage at a county fair.

As far as personal interest on her behalf? None. Less than none.

I’d been ushered from the design studio back to Ripper Records to sign paperwork. It had come after the original fittings, because there had been last-minute adjustments and Sabrina hadn’t wanted to wait to meet with Roman until the contract came through.