Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(186)

“Hey, Kiera. Great party.”

Leaning in to her, I laughed. “Thanks. Abby did most of it, though.” Sighing, I looked back at Kellan. He’d started singing along with Griffin, but he was laughing so hard he didn’t sound very good. He looked good, though.

Jenny snorted. “Is this because Kellan lost that bet?”

Looking over at her, I frowned. “What bet?”

She grinned and pulled her long locks away from her shoulder. “You know, Griffin bet him that he could knock Anna up again before Kellan knocked you up again.” Jenny rolled her eyes. “I don’t think Kellan actually accepted the bet, but still, you know how Griffin loves to win . . . anything.”

My eyes widened as far as they could go. Anna was pregnant again? Sitting herself up, Anna happened to glance my way. When she saw my face, then saw Jenny beside me, she instantly knew that I knew. Her lips curled into a smirk, and she merely shrugged at me. I was so floored, I could barely come up with words. When I did, they were laced with disbelief. “Those two are going to overpopulate the earth, aren’t they?”

Jenny pursed her lips. “Yep. Probably.”

Kellan had control over his chuckles by the second verse. Then he started getting into it. Always the performer, he gave the cheesy eighties teeny-bopper anthem his best. No one in the room had dry eyes. Not Cheyenne, Meadow, or the rest of Poetic Bliss. Not Justin or Kate, cuddling on the love seat. Not Troy, Rita, or Sam.

When Kellan and Griffin’s song was over, Kellan and Ryder took a small bow. Then Kellan handed the microphone out to Rain. Just as eager to perform as Griffin, Rain jumped off the couch and ran up to the “stage.” They had to pry the microphone cord away from Ryder, which made him start to cry. Bouncing him as he walked, Kellan reached into his back pocket and handed him a rattle in the shape of a guitar. He instantly started shaking it, a smile on his tiny lips.

Kellan walked over to me, pulling Ryder out of his carrier as he did. My face scrunched up into a “gimme” expression as I held my hands out for my baby. Kellan instantly handed him over, kissing his head before he did. Warmth and softness overwhelmed me as I held Ryder close. I inhaled a deep breath as he grabbed a fistful of my hair. He smelled like Kellan. Somehow, whether it was hereditary or just a by-product of being so close to Kellan all the time, Ryder always seemed to smell like his daddy. It was incredible.

Hours later, when the party was over, I wandered through my home littered with red Solo cups and half-eaten pieces of cake. I felt totally at peace. Even messy from a party, this place was my sanctuary. My journey here had been tumultuous at best, but it was worth every scrape, heartache, and tear. Kellan and I were who we are now because of it. We’d learned to open up to each other, to trust each other, to face the world together. I firmly believed now that there was nothing we couldn’t tackle together. No hurdle, no obstacle, no setback was so large that it would break us apart, and there was comfort and confidence in that knowledge.

Shuffling past stray balloons that had somehow found their way upstairs—I’d worry about cleaning up my safe haven later—I made my way to Ryder’s bathroom. I could hear splashing water and Kellan’s voice. Oddly enough, he was singing “Electric Youth” again. The song must have gotten stuck in his head. Heading for the open door, I leaned against the frame and watched my husband bathe his son.

Ryder was lying in a small blue plastic tub inside the larger one, keeping him safe and secure. As Kellan gently poured a cup of water over his head, Ryder’s mouth opened wide and his tongue shot out, like he was waiting to get a drink. He shoved his hand in his mouth instead. When Kellan noticed me watching, he turned his head my way. “You can go lie down if you want. I got this.”

Smiling, I shook my head. “I like watching the two of you together.”

Rubbing some soap in his hands, Kellan told Ryder, “Hear that? Mommy likes to watch. That’s called voyeurism.” He sounded the word out, like he was expecting Ryder to repeat it back to him. Instead Ryder pressed his lips together and blew out, humming his lips and getting spittle all over his little face.

Stepping up to Kellan, I nudged his butt with my foot. Jackass. Chuckling, Kellan got to work sudsing up Ryder’s hair; there was dried frosting in it. Thanks to a moment of playful splashing by Ryder, Kellan was a little wet by the time the bath was over. Pulling him out of the tub, Kellan wrapped Ryder in a towel shaped like a giant yellow duck. As if a man holding a baby wasn’t cute enough, a man holding a baby wearing a hood shaped like a duck bill was downright delightful.

I wasn’t sure if it was normal or not, but just watching him take care of his son was putting me in the mood. Maybe I should go lie down, wait for him in bed with just my KK underwear on. But I couldn’t stop watching him with Ryder, and I followed the duo when they headed over to Ryder’s bedroom.

We’d turned Ryder’s room into a stage. Jenny had helped me paint it, since she was the one blessed with artistic talent. One wall was painted black with thick red curtains on either side of it. Ryder’s crib was positioned in front of the black wall, in the lead singer’s position. My mother had flipped out when I’d told her that I painted Ryder’s room black. But it was an homage to Pete’s, the starting point of both Kellan’s career and our relationship; we were even going to hang some guitars on the wall when Ryder was older. And besides, every parenting magazine I’d ever read said that babies loved the contrast between black and white. And every other wall in his room was white. Well, white except for the black five-line stave across the center of each wall. Jenny had done an outstanding job with those. And the notes sliding up and down the perfectly straight lines were to an actual D-Bags song, the sad song that Kellan had been singing when we got back together. His ode to me. The significance squeezed my heart every time I walked into this room.