Loving Dallas(56)

Wade sits leaned back in a booth across from his manager and a few guys from his band. Mandy, Ty, and Lex are here as well.

Barry Borscetti’s face is on the computer in front of them and he’s talking when I walk in.

“He’s here,” Wade’s manager, a husky guy named Rick, says when Mandy and I make our way over. “We’re good to go.”

“What’s going on?” I look to Mandy for an answer and she grins like someone with a secret.

“Dallas, we’re glad you’re here,” Barry says, drawing my attention from my manager. “Your agent has been filled in so the paperwork is already being processed.”

I feel like I’m missing the punch line to an inside joke. “Okay. Someone want to fill me in now?”

“It’s about the tour,” Barry says. “Jase has signed on for an international leg of the Kickin’ Up Crazy tour and we couldn’t be more excited. With the success of ‘Better to Burn’ and the enthusiasm for your upcoming album, we’ve decided to include you as well. Congratulations. This is going to be an amazing opportunity for both of you.”

“The exposure alone is going to skyrocket your career, Dallas,” Mandy whispers from beside me, wrapping her arm around mine and holding on tightly.

“Mexico is confirmed for three dates. Five shows in Canada,” Barry is saying as I tune back in. “Two shows in Rio de Janeiro and two London venues have committed. There’s a foundation supporting a campaign called Bring Country Music to the UK that is ecstatic about having you boys over there. We’ll have two shows in the Philippines, which will provide some photo ops with service groups that you’ll be visiting while you’re there. We’re still working with Australian vendors and should hear back from Tokyo today.”

“Sounds great, Barry,” Wade says. He sounds as tired as I feel but we both know how huge this is. Not just for us, or for this tour, but for country music.

Once upon a time, it was only in the southern United States, then it expanded to reach the rest of the country, and now it’s taking on the world. It’s surreal to be a part of that and I can’t even think straight as I imagine visiting those parts of the globe.

“Have a great show tonight, fellas,” Barry says before signing off.

“Well, this calls for another celebration,” Mandy announces. “I’ll have someone bring in some party favors for after the show tonight. We’ll see if Midnight Bay can help us out with that.

The mention of Midnight Bay reminds me of Robyn. I hope like hell she’ll be joining us for this leg of the tour. The craziest part? I can’t even imagine it without her.





31 | Robyn

“MISS BREELAND?”

I glance up from the magazine I’ve been perusing. I’ll have to finish the article on the benefits of breastfeeding some other time. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m some crazy exception to the chemistry of home pregnancy tests. That could happen.

Suuure it could.

Ignoring my subconscious as it openly mocks me, I smile at the petite blonde in pale pink scrubs as she holds the door open for me.

“Right this way. You’re in here,” she says pointing to a door that’s ajar.

I step into the room and try not to have a panic attack. “Thanks,” I mumble.

She smiles again and I try to focus on her face. She’s giving me this sympathetic head-tilted, eye-creasing expression and I read more into it than I probably should. I’m not even wearing an engagement ring, but here I am. Hoping against hope that I’m not knocked up even though I suspect we both know that I am.

“Just undress completely and put this gown on.” She leans down to retrieve a pale yellow paper gown that’s practically see-through and then hands it to me. “Have a seat on the table and the doctor will be right in.”

I swallow and nod as she leaves me alone with my gown in hand. My tongue is thick and foreign in my mouth. Maybe I’m allergic to this place. Or this ridiculously thin gown. Why do they have to be so freaking thin? Couldn’t I open a flannel robe just as easily? Once you’re in the stirrups, it hardly matters.

Oh God. The stirrups.

I glance over and there they are, screwed to the end of the table like a medieval torture device. With all the advances in technology, surely there’s a better way.

You can do this. It’s fine. You have a great job, fantastic medical benefits.

I console myself with this information as I undress in what has now become a freezing cold meat locker instead of a warm and cozy doctor’s office.

But what will Mr. Martin say about traveling? What if I can’t? What if I can’t find a nanny willing to travel with me?

My breathing has accelerated to a dangerous level. I can see my chest heaving and I can’t remember if I was supposed to take off my bra. Surely I can leave on my bra.

I’m leaving my bra on.

It feels like a strange act of defiance but my breasts are sore and the idea of freeing them right now in this frigid room seems like cruel and unusual torture.

In just my bra, I slip the gown on only to realize it ties in the back. And I can’t reach.

That’s what husbands are for, Robyn. Duh.

My subconscious is an *. And stuck in archaic gender and societal roles that I will not succumb to.

I’ve thrown every excuse I have at Dallas. Telling him repeatedly that I think what I have is contagious so he won’t come by. He’s called to check on me half a dozen times and I just keep telling him I’m tired, which hasn’t been a complete lie. I blink back the tears and twist the stupid offensive ties together the best that I can.