With Robyn.
I’m going to be a dad.
I couldn’t be more ill-equipped if the pilot announced we had to jump from the plane.
36 | Dallas
“WHAT IN THE EVER-LOVING HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM, DALLAS?” Mandy’s shrill voice greets me as soon as I step foot offstage. I’ve barely pulled my in-ears out when she starts in on me. “You’ve been avoiding me since this leg of the tour began and now you’re performing like a brain-dead zombie out there. Care to tell me what exactly is going on with you?”
I rub my throbbing head for a solid minute while she waits for my response. What exactly is going on with me, she wants to know. I can only imagine her face if I gave her an honest answer.
“Not particularly,” I tell her while pulling out my phone to see if Robyn’s sent any more updates. Nothing since last night. I frown at the screen.
“So help me, God, I will have your phone cut the fuck off if you don’t put that away and give me a straight damn answer.”
“Easy, Lantram. Damn,” Jase Wade calls out from behind her as he approaches. “This is a chill zone and I need to get in the right head space before going onstage. Give the kid a break, will you?”
She glares at the both of us before pointing a finger at me. “Get your shit together, Dallas Walker. I mean it. You are replaceable. Keep that in mind.”
I stare blankly after her as she storms off and I slide my phone into my back pocket.
She’s right. Dallas Walker is replaceable. Hell, Dallas Walker doesn’t even really exist.
I glance at the leather pants I hate, the boots I never would’ve bought myself, and the torn T-shirt she said “enhanced my edge”—whatever the fuck that is.
I don’t even know who Dallas Walker is. And I don’t think I even like his ass.
“You all right, kid?” Jase Wade kicks my boot, startling me out of my stupor. “ ’Cause Lantram wasn’t entirely out of line for once. You have seemed pretty fucking out of it since we left the States.”
“Yeah. I’m great. Jet lag,” I lie. Mexico was a blur. Canada was a blink. I just played my first show in Rio and I can’t remember a single second of it.
“Nothing to do with a certain redhead we both know?”
His mention of Robyn surprises me and brings out a primal surge of protectiveness. “I know her a hell of a lot better than you do.”
Wade laughs at my outburst. “Easy, killer. I know you do. That wasn’t my name she was shouting across the airport. I gotta say, after a scene like that, I’m kind of surprised you made it here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“Honestly? Girl looked like she was about to propose to you. I figured you’d be on your honeymoon by now.”
I snort, but there’s a part of me that wishes he were right. Brazil is beautiful. Colorful and vibrant like Mandy promised. But all I can think about is the way Robyn came alive in New Orleans. How she’d dance in the streets here, too, and moan about the food in a way that would have me hauling her back to our hotel room at lightning speed.
If I don’t tell someone, I’m going to explode before sound check.
“She’s pregnant,” I say quietly so none of the road crew members hear. “With my baby.”
“Ah. Congratulations.” Wade claps my shoulder hard and shakes my hand. I feel the maniacal grin spreading across my face.
“We’ll find out the sex of the baby this weekend. She’s going to text me the ultrasound photo.”
At that, he frowns. “Text, huh?”
I nod. It sucks but what else can we do?
“You know, I got a lot of updates about my daughter via text message, too.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “That she was taking ballet. When my wife found out she was allergic to strawberries. Several years’ worth of school pictures. Dance recital videos.”
He lets out a low sound, laughter devoid of humor, as if he’s forgotten I’m even in the room.