Reckless (71 page)

Retrieving our things from Kellan’s old house had been a process. My friends had helped, and had braved their way through the throngs of near-constant visitors to get inside the home and
pack it up for us. It was a little embarrassing having other people box up all of our belongings, but Kellan and I lived pretty simply, and there really hadn’t been all that much stuff to
begin with at the old house. And we still lived pretty simply. Our new home seemed a little empty with the scant amount of furniture we owned. I was going to have to get some help filling it up.
Good thing Jenny and Denny were extremely good at shopping and decorating.

I did what I could to make our house feel like a home, though. There were personal touches throughout each room that made me feel like we were right where we belonged. As I walked through our
spacious bedroom, I had to smile at the familiarity—Kellan’s comfortable chair was tucked in a corner next to a floor lamp, creating a perfect space for reading. The Ramones poster
I’d given him was framed and held a place of honor on the wall beside the D-Bags’ Bumbershoot poster. Kellan’s cowboy hat from the strip club was hanging off of a peg on the
footboard of our new bed. And copies of the D-Bags’ CD were resting near copies of my book. It already felt like we’d been living here for years.

Walking into the bathroom, I glanced over at the jetted tub large enough to sleep in, the ginormous two-person shower, and the expansive granite countertops. I could live just in this bathroom
and be happy. Dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, Kellan was leaning on the counter, staring at himself in the mirror. He was taking long deep breaths in and
out. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was nervous.

“We need to go. You okay?”

Kellan glanced my way, flashing me a perfectly carefree smile. “Yep. I’m ready.”

Hands on my hips, I clarified my question. “I asked if you were okay.”

His smile turning seductive, Kellan turned and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I just made love to a beautiful, successful author. I’m fantastic.”

A bright grin exploded onto my face. Then my mind shifted back to Kellan’s big news. “And your band is up for Best New Artist tomorrow, so we better hop on that plane and get your
butt to the Grammys.”

The nominations had been announced at the end of November, a week after our wedding, but Kellan was still in denial about the whole thing. He just couldn’t wrap his head around how fast
everything was happening. I couldn’t either sometimes, but I wasn’t as surprised as he was. Kellan was the entire package—looks, talent, charisma. He had that “it”
factor that caught people’s attention. The Grammys were only the beginning.

Kellan sighed, his smile relaxing. “Do I really have to go to this thing?”

Laughing at his reluctance to accept praise, even from his peers, I nodded. “You’re scheduled to perform, so yeah, you kind of have to be there.”

Kellan closed his eyes. “Why on earth did I agree to do that?”

I gave him a soft kiss as I squeezed him tight. “Because you can’t resist a stage, and the world is a better place because of that fact.”

Kellan opened one eye in a dry expression of disbelief. Laughing, I kissed him again. “Off you go to rule the world, rock star.”

Releasing me, Kellan started heading for our bedroom. Over his shoulder he told me, “Well, it’s not like we’re actually going to win anyway. Our album hasn’t been out
long enough.”

I kept my mouth shut, but I knew that fact didn’t matter in this case. I had no doubt in my mind that Kellan was going to win.

When we were in the limo being driven to Staples Center for the ceremony, I reconsidered my excitement about being there. Aside from the industrial matting at my hospital-room
wedding, I’d never walked a red carpet before in my life, and the thought of stepping out in front of all of those photographers made my stomach feel like a tiny person was in there frothing
up some egg whites for a lemon meringue pie. I was possibly going to be sick. Looking at Kellan beside me, he surprisingly looked the exact same way. I was sure he wasn’t nervous about his
entrance, though—it was more his impending win that was bothering him. Kellan didn’t mind the spotlight, but he wasn’t the best at accepting kudos. He’d even refused to
write a speech, saying there wasn’t a chance he was winning so why bother.

To calm my nerves I pulled out my phone and sent a quick message. Kellan glanced down at my screen. Looking like he also wanted a distraction, he asked, “What are you doing?”

Smirking, I told him, “Tweeting your fans.” Holding up the phone, I read him my message. “About to head into the Grammys. Wish me luck.”

Kellan rolled his eyes at me. One of the first things Denny had done as Kellan’s agent was to have him join some social media sites. He’d told Kellan that the best way to put rumors
to rest was to directly interact with his fans. I agreed and wondered why we hadn’t done it sooner. But the look of confusion, reluctance and irritation on Kellan’s face had explained
it all. “You want me to whatbook? And Tweet? Like a bird? Are you serious?” he’d said to Denny in exasperation.

Kellan had stayed as far from technology as he possibly could, for as long as he possibly could. He just wasn’t into it. He didn’t even own a computer. He either borrowed my laptop
or Griffin’s. He preferred to use mine. He said that Griffin’s keyboard tended to be on the sticky side. I did
not
want to think about why. But Kellan was being forced into the
modern age, practically kicking and screaming. His expression of resigned disgust when he’d agreed was so adorable that I’d taken a photo of it. Maybe someday I’d post it on his
wall.

After my Tweet on Kellan’s behalf, the well-wishes started pouring in. Kellan eventually laughed and got sucked into it. We stared at my phone for so long watching the comments coming in
that we didn’t even notice when we arrived at Staples Center. Kellan and the guys had already been there earlier, when they’d rehearsed, but that had been nothing compared to this.
People were everywhere. Cameras were everywhere. Celebrities were everywhere. It was one of those surreal once-in-a-lifetime moments.

Staring out the window, Kellan murmured, “Fuck me,” as the car pulled around to the drop zone. The rest of the people in the car started freaking out as we came to a stop. Not
wanting to ride separately, our limo was pretty packed—Griffin, Anna, Evan, Jenny, Matt, and Rachel were with us. Everyone looked amazing too. Anna and Jenny had outdone themselves on our
hair and makeup, and all of the boys had been approached by big name designers to supply our wardrobe. My dress was a stunning black one-shoulder piece that probably cost more money than I made in
a year waitressing. I was being very careful not to stain, snag, or rip it.

The boys were dressed a bit more casually but still looked incredible. Evan was in gray slacks with a matching gray jacket and a black button-up shirt underneath. Matt was sporting fashionably
frayed jeans with a dark blue blazer over a white shirt. Griffin . . . was rocking really tight leather pants. Everyone had tried to talk him out of it, but he refused to wear anything else. Anna
had at least gotten him to change his mind about wearing a T-shirt that read
Muff Master.
Not because of what it said, mind you, but because she felt a T-shirt wasn’t appropriate for
an awards show. Kellan was decked out in black slacks, a white button-up, and a black jacket. His shirt was open for three or four buttons, and his jacket only had one button that met halfway down
his chest. He was both fashionable and sexy as hell. It was hard to take my eyes off of him.

Before heading out into the spotlight, we all gave each other a round of encouragement, support, and gratitude. And then it was showtime.

My nerves evaporated about halfway down the red aisle. It’s amazing how fast you get used to people shouting out questions as they snap photos of you. I didn’t want to do this all of
the time, but every so often wouldn’t be so bad. Kellan’s smile was seamless, his swagger seductive. No one but me would know that he was freaked out. And I only knew because he had a
death grip on my hand. I wasn’t sure what he would be more relieved about—winning or not winning. Playing would probably ease his nerves, but unfortunately the band was scheduled to be
on stage after their category was up. He would have no reprieve from his anxiety until the moment of truth was over. But, like he did so often for me, I would help him through it.

While we sat through the ceremony, I tried to help him get his mind off of it. We joked about Denny and Abby babysitting Gibson over the weekend, about how Abby was going to want to have a baby
of her own by Monday. That led to a discussion about which songs the band should play for their wedding ceremony in two days. Abby was a huge fan of “Islands in the Stream,” but Kellan
refused to cover that song or “Endless Love,” which was Abby’s backup song.

As the time approached for Kellan’s category, he started talking less and fidgeting more. He also started obsessive-compulsively kissing the tattoo of his name on my wrist. It was so bad
at one point, I thought he was going to wear away the permanent ink. When the two announcers stepped onstage for the Best New Artist category, Kellan’s knee started bouncing up and down.
I’d never seen him this frazzled.

Reaching over, I stilled his leg. Eyes wide, he turned to me and whispered, “I’m nervous. I’m really fucking nervous. I never get nervous. What the hell is wrong with
me?”

Smiling, I told him, “You’re human. And I think it’s pretty safe to say that everybody in here is nervous on some level.”

As the pair in front of the microphone tried to lighten the mood with really bad comedy, Kellan told me, “You’re not nervous.”

I stared at Kellan for a few seconds, debating whether or not to tell him something. I’d been planning on waiting ’til all the hoopla had died down, but I knew it would absolutely
take his mind off of his nerves. It was going to blow his mind. It had sure blown mine. A short movie started playing clips of the nominated bands. When I heard Kellan’s pitch-perfect voice
filling the auditorium, I leaned forward and whispered my secret in his ear. His mouth dropped wide open as he stared at me in shock. Tears filled my eyes as I nodded at his unasked question.

A smile spread over Kellan’s face right as the announcers spoke in unison, “And the winner for Best New Artist is . . .” When they paused for dramatic effect, Kellan leaned
forward to kiss me. “The D-Bags!”

The room erupted in cheers and applause, but I was sure Kellan hadn’t heard a word of it. Grabbing my face, he finished his descent to my lips. The other band members started standing, but
Kellan was still sitting in his chair, plastering my face with light kisses. Cognizant of millions of viewers watching this on TV, I pushed him back and urged him to stand up. His face was
exhilarant as he finally did. Evan and Matt clapped him on the back, urging him forward. I stood with the rest of the girls and clapped as they fumbled their way to the stage. Kellan looked back at
me every five seconds, his euphoric face still in disbelief. Whether that was over winning or over my news, I wasn’t sure.

The boys climbed up the steps to the stage and exchanged polite hugs with the celebrities who’d announced them. As if on cue, Evan and Matt stepped back and let Kellan take the microphone;
Griffin was subtly restrained by both men with a “supportive” hand on each one of his shoulders. Shaking his head, Kellan clutched his golden gramophone statue as he walked toward the
mike

“Oh . . . wow . . . I don’t know what to say. I want to thank . . .” His voice broke and the tears in my eyes rolled down my cheeks. Bringing the back of his hand to his mouth,
Kellan stopped talking. Shaking his head again, he slowly lowered his hand. “I’m sorry.” His voice warbled with barely contained emotion. “My wife just told me she’s
pregnant.” He had to step back again as the moment overwhelmed him.

People started hollering. The D-Bags jumped on Kellan, congratulating him. Every head in my vicinity swiveled my direction, including my sister’s and my girlfriends’. I hadn’t
told anybody about this yet. I’d really only just found out about it. Last week to be exact. And surprised wouldn’t even begin to describe my initial reaction. I was on birth control
pills for one thing, so I hadn’t even been worried about getting pregnant. I just thought I was late because I was stressed, or excited. A lot of big things had been happening lately. But I
just felt . . . weird. I wasn’t sick or anything, I just didn’t feel normal. I was more tired than I should be, and I alternated between not being hungry and being hungry enough to eat
two loaves of bread in one sitting. I’d made an appointment with my doctor just to rule out any illnesses. She’d assured me that I wasn’t coming down with Spanish influenza, that
I was pregnant.

When I matter-of-factly told the doctor that pregnancy was impossible, since I was a fastidious planner and I’d never missed a birth control pill in my life, she then informed me about a
bad batch of pills that had hit the market. Apparently, the pills had been distributed in the packet incorrectly, so the dosages were wrong. Good to know. All of the mislabeled batches had been
recalled, but I had apparently hit the birth control jackpot. Our baby was due in September.

While my sister and Jenny started quietly grilling me on details, Kellan finally composed himself. Approaching the microphone again, he let out a long exhale. “Well, I can honestly say
that this is the best day of my life.” When the cheers died down, he told the crowd, “I want to thank every single person who has ever supported us. Your dedication has meant the world,
and we wouldn’t be here without you. I may be overly emotional right now, since I’m about to be a father, but I really do love each and every one of you. From the bottom of my heart,
thank you.”

I couldn’t tell from where I was sitting, but I was pretty sure tears were in his eyes when he waved and stepped away from the microphone. I knew this emotional moment was going to be
replayed on every show playing Grammy highlights tomorrow. It was going to be talked about on every radio station. It was going to be mentioned around every water cooler. And for once, I was glad.
I wanted this moment to live on. I wanted to be constantly reminded of this memory. I wanted to replay this video in twenty years so I could remember the look on his face when Kellan found out he
was going to be a father. And I wanted to show it to our son or daughter—so they would know, without a doubt, that they were loved. From day one, they were loved.