Harper scooted down, curving herself into the line of his body. “What am I looking at?”
“Evidently whatever I Google, I end up back here at this Parenthood site. And I read something about Fetal Alcohol something—”
“Syndrome.”
He nodded. “But only from prolonged alcoholism. Does that sound like us?”
“I can think of someone, but it ain’t us.”
Deacon sighed. He had to agree with her. In their circle there was a lot of drinking, but it had never really been their thing.
He rested his chin on top of her head and started reading aloud. He felt her slowly relax. She asked a few questions, but for the most part she just listened.
Eventually her head slid down to rest along his forearm and she grew heavier in his arms as sleep took her. He read until his battery died, loathe to move and wake her.
And finally his eyes grew heavy as well and he curved around the back of her. He pressed his hand to her belly, cradling them both in his arms.
Harper woke to a furnace behind her and way too many freaking lights on. She winced as her bladder made it known that rolling over wasn’t in her future.
She slipped out from under Deacon’s heavy arm and reached for the lamp beside the bed and quickly extinguished the light.
“Harper?”
“It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”
“Where are you going?” His voice was barely a rumbling whisper, coated in sleep.
“Bathroom.” She leaned down, coasting her fingers through his hair.
“’Kay.” He stretched out diagonal on the bed, kicking a foot out of the sheets before rolling onto his belly like he did when he was truly out. The man could take up a bed.
She went to take care of Mother Nature’s wake up call, coming back out to turn off lights as she went. The pizza was a lost cause so she left it on the counter for morning. Knowing Deacon, he’d eat it with his coffee. Her husband, the human garbage disposal.
With moonlight as her guide, she wandered around the little cottage they’d called home for the better part of a week. It held a lot of amazing memories and a lot of pain. She landed at the back door where the moon-washed pergola cut shadows against the cottage, slicing over Deacon’s form on the bed.
She should crawl back into bed with him and sleep. Her brain still felt fuzzy with the few hours down she’d managed. Restlessness chased that idea away. She’d end up tossing and turning until she woke him up. A flash of light caught her eye. Her phone lit up with some sort of notification. She crossed the room, snagged it out of her bag. The lure of the hammock, waves, and fresh air was too tempting to resist.
She’d just check emails to get her mind off things. Decisions that she didn’t know how to make left her brain feeling too big for her head. Between Deacon’s random avalanche of trivia about pregnancy and her own knowledge of the flip side of the coin, she was on information overload.
A shit ton of email didn’t help the overwhelmed feeling. So, for the first time in her life, she ignored work emails. Annie said she would take care of them while she was on her honeymoon. Instead, she clicked open stupid emails like US Weekly’s barrage of celebrity gossip. She let out a soft laugh at Simon’s smirky smile on the sidebar. Evidently their dear Simon had been seen out and about with some actress from a summer blockbuster movie. She actually wanted to see that movie. Uninterested in any of the other articles, she flipped back to her email.
Lost in Oblivion, Life in the Studio part 1.
She clicked on the video link and Jazz’s adorable face filled the screen. She babbled about songs, about the cool studio they were working in, and was pretty much a ray of sunshine with orange strips in her hair.
Harper missed her.
Missed talking and laughing with her. It was them against a gang of guys. They had to stick together.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she flicked open her starred contacts and called Jazz. If she didn’t answer, she’d just hang up.
“Oh man, you better not need bail money, Lawless.”
Harper gave a soft laugh that turned terrifyingly into a sob at the sound of Jazz’s voice.
“Holy crap. Harper? Are you okay? Is Big D okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry, Jazz. I just needed to talk to someone and…”
“And I never sleep.” Harper heard rustling, the slap of computer keys, then a muffled voice. “Okay, mama. Tell me what you need.”
Harper hung her foot out and set the hammock to rocking. “I saw your video.”
“Yeah? It’s gotten a bunch of hits already, and the comments are blowing up.” Suddenly she stopped. “Somehow I don’t think you called to talk to me about my little video. Especially since you should be in prime naked time on your honeymoon. You only have two days left.”
“Yeah. Things are a little bit of a clusterfuck at the moment actually.”