Music of the Soul (Runaway Train, #2.5)(43)

“Julia Susannah. Papa and Grandmother shortened it to Susan.”

“That’s a beautiful name for our daughter.” I patted his hand on my belly. “What if we called her Jules? That’s kind of a sassy little nickname. And if she’s anything like your mom or me, she’ll be sassy.”

Jake grinned. “I agree. And I love that. Jules Slater sounds like a future rock goddess, too.”

“It does.”

“And for our son?”

“He needs his father’s name in there somewhere.”

Jake wrinkled his nose. “He’s getting my last name. What about something of yours?”

I shrugged. “We could give him my dad’s name as a middle name.”

“Andrew’s a good, strong name.” He winked. “And biblical.”

“So is Jacob,” I countered.

Jake laughed. “Fine. We’ll think about using my name as a middle name too.”

“I like using family names and giving our babies history.”

“So do I, but at the same time, I don’t think you want to use my Papa’s name.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I love him, but I don’t want to name our son Herbert.”

“Neither do I.”

Jake’s phone dinged in his pocket, and he pulled it out. He read the text and grimaced. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“That was Loren. He’s been researching the auditorium in Boise, and he thinks we’re going to need to scrap doing Jackson or add in another song with it because the way the stage is built.”

I gasped. “That’s it.”

Jake’s brows furrowed. “What’s it?”

“Jackson.”

“You want to name our son after the duet we’re doing?”

“Not entirely. My mom’s maiden name is Jackson.”

Jake appeared to be thinking about the name. “Jackson Slater…Jax Slater.” He grinned. “I like that a lot.”

“Jacob Jackson Slater,” I said, with a smile.

He rolled his eyes. “Andrew Jackson Slater,” he countered.

“Then it sounds like we named him after the president.”

Jake laughed. “I guess you’re right.” He rubbed my belly. “So, Jax and Jules it is.”

“I love it.”

“And I love you.”





After going through all I did to conceive, I never thought I would ever hate being pregnant. And then I crossed the eighth month mark, and true loathing of swollen feet, heartburn, sleepless nights, and waddling around began to grate on my nerves.

It probably didn’t help that I’d been on bed rest for a month. The moment I stepped off the tour bus, my OB had banished me to the four walls of the master bedroom at home. Sure, I was tired and worn out from performing, but at the same time, it was hard laying around all the time when you were used to being on the go. Jake was good to spend time amusing me. We watched movies and ate our meals together. He also made sure I had female company by having my mom, Allison, and Lily come for visits.

Mia was good to come up for the day with Bella and baby Gaby. While I snuggled with the girls and watched movies, Mia worked hard knitting hats and booties for the twins. She and Lily also organized my baby shower, which turned into an epic event that included Jake, the guys from Runaway Train, the roadies and their wives.

Even though I hated being bedridden, I would have taken anything for it instead of having contractions six and a half weeks before my due date. Jake immediately called my doctor, and then we made the fifteen minute drive to the hospital. After doing an ultrasound, as well as an exam, my OB, Dr. Ghandi, had me being prepped for an emergency C-Section. The twins were in distress as my blood pressure had started rising. When the phrase ‘preempting any future preeclampsia’ floated around, I went into panic mode, but Dr. Ghandi assured me that by getting the twins out, we weren’t going to face that.

In a blur, I was wheeled from an examining room into the OR. Jake momentarily left my side to get outfitted in his scrubs, hat, and mask. When he returned, they’d already given me an epidural, along with some other drugs, and erected a sheet, so I couldn’t see what was about to happen below my waist.

It felt like I was floating outside of my body. Tugging pressure came from below the sheet. I fought as hard as I could to say awake, but I felt myself drifting away into unconsciousness. “There he is!” Dr. Ghandi exclaimed. My droopy eyelids snapped open. Craning my neck, I gazed to where she held a wailing Jackson.

“God, he’s so beautiful,” I murmured, the oxygen tube moving tighter against my nose.

Dr. Ghandi passed Jackson to a nurse and then went back to work. My eyes cut across to where the nurses worked to clean Jax up. He appeared strong and healthy, and I wanted nothing more than to hold him in my arms and ease his crying. As if he could sense my thoughts, he turned his face toward me in the bassinet. “Hi sweetheart. Mommy’s here,” I called hoarsely.

“And here’s number two!” My eyes cut from Jax over to Jules. I knew immediately something was wrong. While Jax had cried heartily, Jules was silent, her lips blue. A flurry of activity began happening below my waist.

“What’s wrong? Why isn’t she crying?” I demanded.