Page 115 of Embracing the Beat
One thing about Sawyer. If he doesn’t want to answer the question, he won’t. He’ll flat out refuse and then change the subject.
With a sigh, I nod. “Yes, please.”
“What time are you heading to the studio?”
That’s the other thing Sawyer helped me fix. Between what he discovered and the loopholes Mike found, Reverb was happy to let me out of my contract. The three of us had left a meeting with the owner of Reverb after she apologized profusely and not only shredded my original contract, but gifted me the rights to all the songs I worked on while at the label.
Hush money.
But I didn’t care. She set me free.
Afterward, we’d met Nick and Jax at Jax’s home studio. The way their contract was written provides me freedom to exit the agreement anytime in the next six months if I’m unhappy. Jax remembered my request—to be happy making music.
I also officially met Jax’s wife, Charlie, and their daughter, McKenna—Ken for short. The last time I had seen Charlie was when she told Jax off at the one music awards ceremony I’ve been to. Our interactions are still awkward, but I hope that someday we’ll move beyond one of my less than shining moments.
Seeing how everyone doted on the happy baby, I also decided to tell Nick and Jax about my pregnancy, stressing that my new little family came first. They had agreed, offering a slower ramp up that started with recording an EP and then seeing where things went from there.
Today we start recording the first song, “Whisper.”
“What time do we need to leave?” Sawyer asks, checking his watch, and I glance at the clock on the stove.
“Fifteen minutes.” I head toward the bathroom. “Let me brush my teeth and grab my phone.”
He grunts and gives me a thumbs up, and I roll my eyes. My brother the chatty Cathy.
Like I do every morning, I study my reflection in the mirror, cataloging the changes my body is going through. But other than my shirt fitting a little more snugly, there’s nothing. Most people probably wouldn’t even think I was pregnant.
Teeth brushed, I grab my phone from the bedroom and nearly drop it when I see the missed call notification.
West.
There’s no voicemail. I haven’t seen his name on my phone in a month, so why now?
I don’t have time to figure out that answer, so I clear the notification and tuck my phone into my pocket before heading back to the kitchen.
“Ready?” The awkward excitement in my voice is cringeworthy, and Sawyer studies me for several breaths before nodding.
“You all right, Mikey?”
“I’m fine. Just excited. Let’s go.”
I hurry him to the door, but he stops before I can push him down the path to the driveway.
“Lock your door.”
“Sawyer. This is a guest house on a gated property.”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. Lock it.”
I do as he demands, then tuck my keys back into my bag.
“Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” he deadpans.
“You need to loosen up, Sawyer.”
“I’m plenty loose,” he grits out.
