Rock 'n' Roll Baby

I park the rental car out in front of the trailer and grab the flowers. It’s not the six dozen roses I sent her before, but if she’s going to throw them in my face, it’s better that I have a smaller bouquet and the stems aren’t filled with thorns. Besides, lilies are pretty and the tiger lily has the meaning of please love me—or so the florist said.

There are three short metal steps leading up to the front door of the trailer. The things are unsteady beneath my boots and I feel a surge of anger. She shouldn’t be living here. She should be in a fancy condo in LA, eating sushi and steak and getting her feet rubbed every night. I slam my fist against the door with more power than is necessary. The whole frame shakes.

The door opens and I have to duck out of the way so my nose doesn’t get taken off. Cherry stands in the entrance, a smirk on her face. “Lose your way?”

I take a step up, dwarfing her body. “No, ma’am. Exactly where I should be.” I slowly ease my way in, not hurting her, but letting her know that I’m here.

“Why don’t you go back to LA? I thought you loved it there.” She sniffs and turns into the small living room. As her back is turned, I fill my lungs with the scent of her and the baby. It’s fresh and clean and sweet and I just want to lie down and wait for it to soak into my skin. A quick glance around tells me that this place is mostly just Cherry and her child. Cherry’s penchant for color is evident in the bright red and white striped curtains over the sink and in the abstract art placemats on the table. Freshly washed bottles are sitting in the drying rack next to the sink. A red towel is draped over the edge. There aren’t discarded boots on the floor or a six pack of beer sitting on the counter. There’s nothing in this place that says a man lives here. It’s clean, neat, and feminine.

In the living room, Bailey is stretched out on the floor, her fist shoved in her mouth and her beautiful blue eyes closed. I want to pick the girl up in one hand, throw Cherry over my shoulder with the other and drive until Shindale is a distant memory. Why does Cherry love this place so much? What does it have that I don’t?

“It didn’t have you so I came home.”

“Nice story, but you’re not getting into my pants.”

“Maybe not today,” I acknowledge.

“Maybe not today?” she scoffs. “Try never.”

“I’ve never lied to you and I’m not going to start now. We’re getting back together, Cherry. You should start getting used to the idea.”

I walk over to the sink and grab a glass out of the cupboard on the right side where I instinctively knew it would be. Some things won’t ever change–like us being together.

“I’ve got a baby, you know.”

“I know.” I fill the cup and shove the flowers in it. The stems are too long so I set it in the sink in case it tips over.

“Then why are you here?”

I peer into the fridge. No beer here, either. She and Brian might be seeing each other or maybe they were dating at one time, but he’s not important enough in her life to keep a beer on ice for him. I smile grimly at that.

“Linc, what are you doing here?” she repeats.

I straighten and close the door. “I’m here to help you pack. I made some money, saved it up, and now we’re going to live that life we dreamed about, so it’s goodbye, Shindale. We’ve got six weeks off until the next leg of the tour starts, but we’re making enough money now that we’re flying between concerts instead of riding the bus. That should be better for Bailey. You’ll have to tell me if you want to get a nanny. Hal will arrange that for us.”

Her jaw drops. “What are you even saying? I’m not going anywhere. This is my home.”

“No.” I shake my head. “This is just a rental that you were staying in until I could fulfill my promise to you. I’m sorry it took so long.”

“You broke up with me.”

I rear back. “What? No. You’re the one that broke up with me. I distinctly remember your text that you were done and moving on.”

“You sent me the stupid text first saying that–” She breaks off and stomps to the sink, pushing me out of the way. She grabs the flowers out of the cup and slams them against my chest, the cold water dripping down the front of my T-shirt. “Take these fucking flowers and get the hell out of my home.”