Immoral by Nicole Dykes
Almost Three Years Later
“Ladies and gentlemen,we’re here. We’re witnessing the last play of Ryan Bailey’s career. And what a career it’s been.” I can hear the announcer, but my eyes are on my husband.
He could have signed another contract. Hell, he could have negotiated a huge contract, considering his team is about to win his third World Series, but he doesn’t want it.
I’ve been taking time off the past three years, being a baseball husband and enjoying the holy hell out of it. Doesn’t hurt that my husband’s ass looks fucking great in those baseball pants, but still.
I don’t follow him every time he travels, but more often than not, I do. Especially if I can fit in an interview in the city he’s in, keeping the band relevant. My record label actually has been pretty damn cool about the whole thing. I either misjudged them, or they just didn’t want to deal with a scandal. Or maybe Jenny got to them.
Who knows?
I’ve still been writing songs and keeping up with Immoral. And maybe after some much-needed time of both of us being off work, I might go back on tour.
“And that’s it, folks!” I smile as the game ends and Ry’s team rushes the field in another victory. “Ryan Bailey, the city of LA thanks you,” the announcer says warmly, and I wait for my man on the sidelines, ready to start our new life.
As Ryan remains busy with reporter after reporter, I decide to finally check my phone, and my heart speeds up in a panic.
Oh, fuck.
I see missed phone calls from Jenny and Waylon as well as several texts from both of them.
“Fuck.” I try to call Waylon, but there’s no answer.
Ry’s eyes meet mine through the crowd. He must sense my panic because he makes his way to me. “What’s wrong?”
Before I can answer a large microphone is shoved in my face. “Grady Bell, how proud are you of your husband?”
“Grady Bailey, actually.” Ry was more than willing to hyphenate our names, but I wasn’t having it. I don’t want anything to do with my father’s last name, and I’m happy as hell to have Ryan’s.
“Right.” The reporter looks slightly flustered but quickly rebounds, “Well, how happy are you for your husband, Mr. Bailey?”
“Super proud. Always.”
“Can you please give us a minute?” Ry asks politely, and thankfully, the reporter and his crew get the hint. He immediately turns to me. “What’s wrong?”
“I have a shitload of missed calls from Waylon and Jenny.”
“Fuck.”
“I know.”
Finally, my phone rings in my hand, and I answer when I see it’s Waylon, “What’s going on?”
“Jesus. Now you finally answer your phone!” I hear Waylon’s frantic tone, and a bucket of ice water may as well have been poured over my head because I’m freaked the fuck out.
“I’m sorry, we were a little busy. What’s going on?”
“Jenny’s in the hospital. Get here now.”
“Shit.”
Ryan and I don’t waste any time and get out of there. Waylon is a miracle worker and gets us immediately on a chartered jet from Colorado back to California. After what feels like an eternity but, in reality, is only a short time, we arrive at the hospital.
We’re greeted by a weary Waylon, who looks worn the fuck out. “Finally.”
“Where is she?” Ryan asks, and Waylon leads us into the hospital room where Jenny is lying in a bed. But she’s not alone. Not anymore.
“Oh my God.” The gasp comes from me as I see the bundle in her arms. “Jen-nay.”
She looks beautiful with her black hair tied up and no makeup on, but she’s smiling even through the glare she directs my way. “I gave birth to your kid, and you still use that stupid nickname?”
“He’s sorry.” Ry has tears in his eyes as he approaches the bed. “She’s here. Already?”
“Yeah. I thought we had two more weeks.” The sweet girl wraps her pinky around Jenny’s finger and looks up at Ry with her big blue eyes. It’s like she knows she belongs to him.
But she’s my girl too.
We both put sperm in the equation, and who knows whose actually won out. We don’t care. As far as we’re concerned, little Kristy is both of ours. And thank God for our friend, Jenny, who deserves one hell of a raise for this.
“You okay?” Ryan asks her, placing a hand on our baby’s head.
“I’m fine. Really. They gave me an epidural quickly, and I didn’t feel shit.”
“I was there for that gore-fest, though, and I’d appreciate a raise,” Waylon says from his seat next to the bed.
Ryan and I both chuckle as Jenny situates herself in the bed and smiles at Ryan. “Since you’re my favorite, you take her first.”
Ry doesn’t argue. When he lifts our girl into his arms, I realize I thought I was whole before, but that was only one chapter of our story because now everything is right in the world. Nothing can touch me.
The love of my life is holding the love of our lives, and that’s it for me. I’m fucking done.
“Wow.” I can’t say anything more than that, and when Ryan moves to my side and places Kristy in my arms, I take a moment to deeply breathe in her sweet scent, taking in every detail from her tiny nose, big eyes, and tiny little hands. “She’s perfect.”
Ryan is beaming. “She is. She’s everything, Grady.”
“She’s a Bailey.” I grin.
He takes my hand as I hold our girl, surrounded by our best friends.
Maybe I should have immediately followed Ry all those years ago. Maybe he shouldn’t have left, but it doesn’t matter. Maybe I should have had the courage to tell him how I felt even if I didn’t really understand it back then. I kissed him because I loved him. I know that now. But none of it matters.
None of it.
Because I have him.
And we have her.
