“Good boy, all done.” Kissing his forehead, she swung him into the corner of the shower stall to play with the plastic blocks and stepped under the spray, hoping to loosen the residual tension in her neck and shoulders.
After last night it felt as if she was missing a layer of skin, which only made her aware of how she’d been shutting down her emotions lately. They were all there now, monkeys dancing on her back under the pummeling water, hurt, love, anger, hope…fear.
She’d always considered herself someone who rolled up her sleeves when faced with challenges. Lately she’d been all doubts and don’ts. I don’t want to be a rock star’s wife. I don’t want women pawing my husband. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to be left behind.
“What happened to me?” she asked her son.
He looked up from his blocks, her wet baby buddha and laughed at her through the steam. “Stop being a drama queen? Okay.”
She and Jared really didn’t have time to poke through their issues and it would be crazy to try so close to Christmas. Their moms were already agitating about the Christmas dinner menu—and it was her mom’s first holiday season without Kayla’s father, who’d died last January.
Rocco was clingy when he was unwell, and the house desperately needed a good clean. She needed to start packing extraneous junk into boxes for the big move. And she always needed to mentally prepare for visits from her brother Greg. “Why stay in a hotel when I’m in town on business when I can stay in this fucking hotel?” he’d said.
Still, those sounded like excuses.
The shower door banged open. Maddie stuck her head in, ignoring Rocco, who gurgled a welcome. “Mommy, Daddy’s making breakfast. You want pancakes?”
“Honey, water’s spilling on the floor.” Gently, Kayla nudged the door closed. “No, Rocco and I already ate. Tell Daddy you have muesli.”
“Awwww.”
Kayla smiled. Oh, so that’s the game. Play the parents off against each other.
“Daddy,” Maddie hollered. “Mommy says no!”
“What’s that?” Jared’s shadow loomed on the steamed-up door, and Kayla caught the handle. “What is this, Grand Central Station?”
Hearing his daddy, Rocco clambered over the plastic blocks “Dada!”
“Pass him out, I’ll dress him.”
She hesitated.
“Kayla?”
“Sure.” Turning off the shower, she grabbed the towel hooked over the top of the screen and wrapped it around herself before pulling the handle.
“Dada!” Rocco raised his arms for his father.
Picking him up, Jared looked at her. “Why are you wearing a towel in the shower?”
“Just finished.” Stepping out of the stall, she kissed him swiftly and cheerfully, then found another towel for their baby. “Here.”
Regarding her thoughtfully, Jared didn’t take it.
“Rocco’s dripping water on you,” she pointed out, hoping he’d attribute her blush to the hot water.
“Right.” He accepted the towel.
“Any chance I can slip out for a couple of hours today, leave you with the kids? I’ve got to start present shopping—”
“For meeee!” Maddie started jumping.
“And it’s way easier without little people.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Jared said. “Take the whole day. I’ve got this.”
“Don’t you have band stuff?”
“I’ve told the guys I’m taking more time off. Let’s work through that Christmas chore list together.”
He left with the kids before she could formulate another questions, leaving her frowning at herself in the mirror.
Whether he didn’t want to worry her, or didn’t think she was interested anymore, Jared rarely talked about his music except as it affected their private life—selling the house, finding something less palatial, giving themselves a financial buffer.
And she didn’t want to force the issue. These were difficult times as they waited to hear whether Zander’s singing voice would return and supported him through the fallout of his spectacular fall from grace. The lawyer in the bar last night had been right. Zander could be forced into bankruptcy if the insurance company didn’t pay out the tour cancellation insurance. And even if they did, and his singing voice recovered, it would take months to rebuild his reputation and get Rage touring again.
Which was why Zander had insisted his bandmates work on a Plan B, pulling what strings he could from New Zealand—setting up informal meetings with producers, and making his home recording studio available so they could work on new songs.
She knew, through the other guys, that they were also discussing how to set up a new band if the worst happened. Rage could not be Rage without its last original member and charismatic founder.
Kayla suspected Jared wasn’t sharing that because he didn’t think she was on his side anymore, career-wise, which wasn’t true. Something else they needed to talk about.
After Christmas.
Could she afford to wait that long? Did she want to? Jared had taken the first step and instead of matching it, she’d taken two back.
She needed an honest second opinion. And there was only one person qualified enough to give it to her.
Chapter Six