Bo & Ember (18 page)

My eyebrows shot up. “Move it up? Really?”

Yardley threw her hair back into a perfect ponytail. “Yes. I want to get you guys absolutely everywhere I can before the summer tour. You’ll have these songs done by next week, easily, and I’d like to finish the recording in our studio so we can get it into production ASAP.”

“Then what happens?” Ember asked as she set her guitar in its stand.

Beckett flipped on his mic from inside the control room. “Then the pimping starts.” He stuck out his tongue and got back to work.

Yardley rolled her eyes, looking slightly disgusted. “This is why he’s not in PR. What he meant, deep down, is that’s when we start
promoting
you. We’ll start slow, scheduling in-studio interviews and things like that. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to have Beckett shoot some of the sessions for the rest of the week. The fans will
eat up
seeing you recording in your house.”

“That’s great,” I interjected. “Who is slated to be on tour with us this summer?”

We knew Yardley was putting the
Indie Tour
together from scratch, and I wondered how she planned to go about doing that.

“Well,” Yardley straightened her shoulders, seeming to look even more excited than usual, “I was planning on telling you all when we were together in New York next week, but I’m including Celtic Summer in the tour.”

“What?” I asked, as Ember squealed and jumped up.

“Really?” she squeaked again. Turning to me, she smacked my shoulder. “That’s
Regan’s
group!”

I fist-bumped the air, which is something I don’t typically do while sober. I’d forgotten that Regan’s fiery trio had a name. That group had been completely pieced together by Yardley, and I was dying to know how they sounded. They had to write a load of songs from scratch, and had been spending some long-ass days in the studio, so neither Ember nor I had talked much with Regan. But, if Yardley was injecting them into the tour, she clearly had high hopes.

“They’ll be in New York? Regan didn’t tell me that when we talked yesterday.” Ember’s tone was bright and bouncy.

While she hadn’t had much in the way of morning sickness, the nausea had been nearly around the clock and we were both worried it would give away our precious secret before we were ready.

“We just finalized it with them this morning, which is why I haven’t mentioned it before. They’ll lay some tracks in the studio as well, so we’d like to make a day of it with the contest winners.”

Ember, Yardley, and I talked details about the trip to New York the following week before Beckett and Yardley headed back to their hotel for the evening.

“Today’s tone picked up quick, huh?” Ember said with a grin as she shut the door and leaned her back against it.

I took a deep breath through my nose, grinning slyly as I tugged on her hips. “Thank you,” I murmured as I kissed her nose.

“For what?” She kissed me back and walked through the dining room—which was finally devoid of wallpaper—and into the kitchen.

I followed behind her, unabashedly enjoying my view. “For … following the music. I know it’s not what you wanted—”

Ember whipped around once she reached the sink. Her lips held a cautious smile. “I want you. Us. This. Our life is beautiful, Bo, and I want every piece of it.” She draped her arms around my neck and started shifting her hips from side to side, dancing without music.

“Are you still sure you want to wait on telling Grounded Sound about the pregnancy? That will make next week a little tricky…” I didn’t want to record the last of our album with Ember feeling lots of pressure either way.

“Yeah, let’s wait. The last thing I want is a huge
thing.
Let’s dash to New York, finish the album, and hang out with Regan.”

I grinned and kissed her cheek. “How very rock star sounding of you.”

“Well, you know,” she playfully sighed, “it
is
a tough life. But, someone’s gotta do it.”

Ember

I
woke with the sun creeping delicately through the sheer curtains. My head was pounding as I sat up and stretched. Headaches and nausea were a common occurrence these days, and I was hoping it would end sooner than later.

Looking to my left, I saw the bed empty. When I peered at the clock, I saw why. It was well past nine in the morning. I jumped out of bed, which shot pain through the back of my head. Not only would Tyler be arriving shortly, but Bo was gone. He’d told me about an early morning meeting he had, but I was left feeling out of sorts that he hadn’t woken me up to say goodbye.

Walking into the bathroom, I took stock of myself in the huge mirror. I was a disaster. My hair was sticking out all over the place and my face looked like it was filling in a little. It wasn’t the cute kind of pregnancy-plump yet, I just kind of looked hung over.

I stopped my self-assessment when I saw a post-it note tucked at the corner of the mirror. Reaching for it, I smiled.

Morning, love.

Tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t budge.

Call me when you’re up.

Bo

I brought the note with me into the bedroom and tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans. I had just enough time to throw my pregnancy-induced hair into a reckless bun before the doorbell rang. Bo and I had agreed it would be easier to give Tyler the gate code since he’d be in and out of the house over the next several months to coordinate the project.

I ran down the stairs and opened the door with a smile. Tyler entered the house with a soy latte in hand for me.

“Morning.” He smiled mischievously. “You look … rough. Hung over? Maybe I should have brought full-strength coffee.”

I took the half-caffeinated drink from him and rolled my eyes. “Hardly. I wish, though.”

We wandered to the dining room and he plunked two huge black binders on the table. Today we would be picking out flooring and furniture.

“What is it?” Tyler asked as he sipped his steaming beverage.

I studied his face for a moment while I considered whether or not I’d tell him about my pregnancy. Tyler seemed genuinely interested in what was plaguing me, but I wasn’t sure that I should tell him. I thought of the reticence of both Bo
and
Tyler when they each talked to me about their past. Though, given that Tyler was spearheading the Cavanaugh estate remodel, whatever the hell it was that happened between the two of them was buried enough.

I’d been mulling over something only Tyler could really answer for me, and I decided to ask it. “What was he like after his parents died?”

Tyler coughed a little, trying to mask it by clearing his throat. “Huh?”

“I mean was he always this …” I struggled to find the right words.

“Reclusive?” Tyler offered.

I nodded. “That. I know he had a temper in high school, or whatever, from the story you told. But, what was it like after that?”

Tyler shrugged. “We were in college by the time his parents died. He was at UNH and I was at Pratt…”

“Right, but you two were, like, best friends.”

Tyler winced. “Guys don’t really operate like that.” His tone was far heavier than his words.

“Still…” I sensed the same brick wall as when I tried to talk with Bo about Tyler.

“I don’t think he went off the deep end,” Tyler said after a few long seconds of silence.

“I changed my mind,” I cut off whatever else he was planning to say. “I want to know what the fuck happened to you two.”

Tyler turned red, then white. Clearing his throat, he gestured to the binders between us. “We really need to get working on this. That wall is coming down on Monday, and I need to have at least the floor ordered by then, or it won’t be here when the addition’s done. Also, you’ll want to consider if you want the sunroom to have the same flooring as the dining room, the kitchen, or if you want all three rooms to be the same, since we’re putting a door in the kitchen.” His tone was one hundred percent professional, and absolutely zero percent friendly chum who brought me my soy latte.

“Sorry,” I whispered, feeling a lump form in my throat.

My ears burned in embarrassment and leftover emotion from the night before. I flipped through the pages, and had to flip faster as my vision clouded with tears.

“I, uh,” I cleared my throat and pointed at a page that held wood flooring, “like these.”

Tyler leaned forward. “Wood is an excellent choice, and it’s gaining popularity. The good thing about wood is, if you’re doing all three rooms, it offers a seamless—shit, are you crying?”

I shook my head as I pursed my lips. It was as sorry a lie as I’d ever told. “Wh—what shade do you recommend?” I tried to continue the conversation despite the several tears that escaped and were now rushing down my cheeks.

“Hey,” Tyler moved the binder away from me and put his hand over mine, “stop. Did I upset you? I just … shit. I’m sorry. I know I’m gay, but I’m a dude so I don’t have enough estrogen to know what’s going on here. “

His desperate tone elicited a chuckle from me, and I threw my head back and wiped under my eyes. “No, Tyler,
I’m sorry
. Apparently all I do is cry now. What the hell?” That part was true. Everything seemed to make me cry lately. Commercials, the news, someone saying “hi” with a nice smile…

“I know something happened between you and Bo,” I continued. “But the fact that neither one of you want to tell me about it should be enough for me to drop it, but it only makes me more curious. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Ember. I just don’t want to … it’s complicated, okay? I know people get to tell their own story, and all of that, but this story is really both of ours. Mine and Bo’s … and I don’t want to violate his trust by sharing something he wants to keep to himself.”

I pulled my sleeves halfway down my hands and wiped my face with them. Moving my legs so I was sitting cross-legged on the old high-backed dining chair, I offered a shrug. “Betchya didn’t know I’d be such a mess, huh?”

Tyler grinned, his well-manicured eyebrows lifting as he laughed. “Life’s full of fun little surprises.” The way he winked at me at the end of his sentence made me question if he somehow knew my secret.

“Christ,” I groaned. “You said that wall is coming down Monday.” My change of subject seemed to throw Tyler off.

“Yeah…”

“We’re leaving for
fucking
New York City Sunday night.”

Tyler nodded, looking to the ceiling in thought. “That should be okay. We’ll just make sure the three of us are on the same page about what’s going to happen while you guys are out of town. I’ll plan on being here more than usual just to make sure someone is kind of watching the place.”

I sighed in relief. “You’ve got your shit together.”

“One of us has to,” he joked.

“Funny.”

“So, the wood floor…”

For the next couple of hours, Tyler and I discussed flooring and furniture, and even made it so far as picking out a light fixture for the dining room ceiling.

By the time Bo returned home, I was offering Tyler some lunch, and the three of us sat in the kitchen together to eat. We caught Bo up on the plans for the renovation while we were in New York, and he seemed happy with the progress.

“This is really moving along nicely, Tyler. Awesome job, man.” Bo took a large bite of his turkey sandwich and nodded approvingly.

“Thanks, man.” Tyler nodded back.

My eyes volleyed between the friends as I contemplated their enigmatic relationship. Bo was generally really open with me, and I hadn’t broached the subject about Tyler since our conversation last night, but I sensed this one might be a hard limit.

“What’s up?” Bo nodded to me. “You look lost in thought.”

Suddenly, both men had their eyes trained on me. I simply shrugged. “Just trying to prepare myself for one more afternoon with Yardley and Beckett.”

It was shitty to throw those two under the bus, but what was I to do? In truth, it was kind of fun having this little secret between Bo and me. Monica knew, but she wasn’t in the room. Soon enough the whole damn world would know the status of my uterus. I was grateful for the fleeting privacy.

“Yardley seems like a piece of work,” Tyler interjected.

Bo laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. She knows her industry shit, though.”

“It sure is in a fancy little package, isn’t it?” Tyler arched an eyebrow.

“Hey,” I sat forward, “you’re supposed to be gay!”

Bo and Tyler laughed in unison, and for a split second I saw two high school seniors laughing in the back of the football bus.

Tyler put his hand on my shoulder. “That I am, my darling, but I sure as hell ain’t blind.”

“You think Yardley is pretty? She doesn’t strike me as your female type,” I challenged.

“Of course she’s pretty. She’s a ripe Georgian peach ready for the picking.” Bo shook his head and looked down with a grin as Tyler continued. “But that’s not what I mean. She’s just so … so stereotypically put together. I’ve never seen her with a hair or an eyelash out of place. Her lips move perfectly when she speaks and her head is nestled on her neck like a pageant queen herself put it there.”