Reckless (Thoughtless #3)

Reckless (Thoughtless #3) Page 30

When Kellan was released from the hospital, he was put in a wheelchair and instructed to take it easy for the next six weeks. He looked irritated that he couldn't walk out of the place on his own two feet. He was walking around much better now, and probably could handle the journey downstairs just fine, but I made him suck it up and keep his ass in the wheelchair. His internal organs were sewn up, and rest was what he needed, not some macho display of invulnerability.

Much to the delight of Griffin and the other D-Bags, Kellan frowned the entire time I pushed him down the hall. Because I couldn't help myself, I patted his head like he was an obedient puppy. He pursed his lips at me, not amused. I thought he'd try and bolt for the door once he saw freedom, but he surprisingly stayed in his chair and let me continue to take care of him. A couple of nurses trailed after us with carts full of get-well flowers and gifts. I had no idea what we were going to do with all the stuff the fans had sent him.

As I rolled Kellan outside, where a sleek black stretch limo was waiting for us courtesy of the groveling-for-his-job Nick, I considered just having Kellan sign the gifts and pass them out to his admirers. They were everywhere outside. Holding signs, candles . . . each other . . . they cheered in wailing shrieks when they finally got to see their recovering rock star.

Attendees from the hospital hurried to push them back and rush us to the idling car. Kellan held up his hand when a burly guy grabbed his chair away from me. "Wait, I want to talk to them."

The hospital staff seemed surprised that he would want to address "the little people," but I wasn't. Kellan had watched these fans hold a vigil for him night after chilly night. Thanking them for their endless dedication was the least he could do. Knowing Kellan, he probably wanted to give each person a warm hug and a personalized message of gratitude. There were a lot of them, though, and Kellan and I did have a plane to catch. Since Kellan was in no shape to continue the tour right now, we were going to take Gavin up on his offer and spend a few weeks recouping in Pennsylvania before visiting my parents in Ohio. It was a break I was really looking forward to taking-Kellan too.

Taking back the wheelchair handles, I steered Kellan toward a large cluster of people hovering near the corner; the other D-Bags respectfully stayed by the car, giving Kellan a moment alone with his fans. Well, most of them were respectful. Matt had to shove Griffin into the limo to keep him from trying to steal the spotlight.

The screams from the crowd were earsplitting, and I hoped nobody on this side of the hospital was trying to sleep. When Kellan was close enough, he reached back and put his fingers over mine in a silent thank-you. Holding up his other hand, he silenced the crowd.

"I can't thank you enough for your devotion and your prayers." He shook his head, and some of the girls directly in front of him sighed. "I saw you. Every night I saw you standing out here in the cold . . . for me. You don't know how much that means to me, how much each and every one of you means to me." His eyes scanned the crowd, a crowd that was struggling to act mature and not squeal like little girls. "I will never forget this." He squeezed my hand, and I knew he didn't just mean the fans. This place, this moment in time would live on forever for us. We were married here.

Kellan thanked the crowd, and I started to turn him away. A brave girl off to our side shouted, "Congratulations on your marriage!"

Kellan looked back at her with an achingly sexy half-smile on his lips. "Thank you." The poor girl looked like she might pass out, so I quickly wheeled him away.

Amid the screams of his leaving, I leaned down and whispered, "You just can't help it, can you?"

His expression innocent, he asked, "Help what?"

Smiling, I kissed his cheek. "Being ridiculously attractive."

He was shaking his head as I helped him into the limo. "I'm pretty sure you're the only ridiculous one here," he murmured, grunting in pain as he transferred his weight.

I rolled my eyes as I got into the car behind him. Nice try, but Kellan knew he was attractive. He may have doubted that anyone actually cared about him, but his looks had never escaped him. Being openly ogled everywhere you go will do that to you, I guess.

Everyone's bags were inside the limo as we headed straight for the airport; even Kellan's guitar was there. The D-Bags were parting ways, and that thought made me sad. I was going to miss my extended family. But the tour was over for them. By the time Kellan was healed enough to return, only a few weeks of Sienna's tour would be left. Instead of rejoining Sienna for the last leg, the boys had decided that they would take a break and work on songs for their second album. Well, that wasn't entirely true. It hadn't entirely been the boys' decision.

Sienna had made her public apology the day after our wedding. Showing up on a popular morning show, she'd tearfully confessed to her fans that she'd helped fabricate and prolong her relationship with Kellan. She told her fans that she "got swept up in the game, and let money and success override common decency." She apologized to all of the fans for misleading them, and begged for their forgiveness. She'd ended her speech by telling the world that she would be completing the remainder of her tour without the D-Bags, so Kellan had ample time to rest and relax with his wife.

The fans were naturally quite upset with her, and from what I'd heard, tickets sales for the remainder of the tour had dropped considerably.

Even though it seemed too small a gesture, I sent her a thank-you card.

Nick immediately started planning a new tour for the boys-a tour that, just as Justin had predicted, they were going to headline. He called Kellan while we were enjoying a peaceful evening together with Gavin, Riley, and Hailey. In as polite a way as he could, Kellan told Nick that any and all arrangements for the band would need to be made through their new agent, Denny Harris. When he hung up with Nick, he had a huge smile on his face. "That was fun."

As the official go-to person for the D-Bags, Denny negotiated all details of the tour. When he called Kellan a couple weeks later with the information, I knew without a doubt that Denny was the absolute right person for the job. He understood the band, and he understood their desires. He fought to keep the venues on the smaller side-larger than Justin's last tour, but smaller than Sienna's-so the experience could be more personal for the fans and the bands. That meant less money for all parties-but Kellan didn't care about the money, and Denny knew that. And money wasn't really an issue anymore anyway. After the accident, the D-Bags' album shot right past Sienna's to land in the number one spot. And it stayed there. Financially, the D-Bags were going to be fine for quite a while.

Denny also helped me out with my career. Four weeks after the accident, when Kellan and I were in Ohio with my parents for Christmas, I finally let Denny read my book. I was a wreck when I e-mailed it to him. It was so much worse than letting Kellan read it. What I did to Denny in the book, in real life, was inexcusable. I didn't see how he could possibly be okay reading it. When I didn't hear back from him for three days, I thought my chest was going to explode from the anxiety. Kellan repeatedly told me it was going to be fine. My mother told me I was going to give myself unnecessary worry lines. I couldn't help it, though. The book was so personal; a piece of my soul. Not getting a reaction to it right away was killing me. But maybe I deserved that.

On the day that I had originally been slated to get married, I was pacing the living room and wondering if Denny was ever going to call me when he finally did. I was so nervous about talking to him, I stepped outside. My parents' yard was covered in snow, and everything outside was muffled and insulated. It was still early in the day, mid-morning, and there wasn't a whole lot of movement in the neighborhood. It made Denny's voice that much clearer in my ear.

"Hey, it's me. I finally read your book."

I sat on a bench on the porch and remembered sitting there with Denny, ages ago. "And . . . ?" I cringed, not sure if I wanted to hear his answer.

He paused. "And I think it's great. I think you should publish it."

Relief washed through me. "Are you sure? It's so . . . personal. I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have."

Denny sighed, and for once there wasn't any lingering pain in the sound. "I understand too, Kiera. Reading the book . . . I understand so much better what happened. I wish it hadn't happened the way it had, and I know you feel the same, but I'm okay now, and this doesn't bother me. Go. Publish it. Knock the socks off the literary world. You deserve it."

As I leaned back on the bench, I told him, "Thank you. That means a lot to me." Smiling, I added, "I guess I should get started on getting it published. So, Mr. Brilliant, you have any contacts in the publishing industry?"

I could hear Denny's smile when he answered me. "Actually, I know you'd probably considered going with a traditional publisher right away, but what do you think about releasing it yourself first? Garner some attention before you dive into the traditional route? The minute I finished reading, I started looking into it, and I found a ton of articles and websites about self-publishing. If you want, I can help you with the technical side. Then I'll help you market the book. That is my specialty, you know."

"No, I hadn't considered that, but I like the idea." I paused to think it over, and he had a point. A story about cheating might be hard for me to sell to a publisher. Releasing it myself seemed like a great way to prove the story's merits first. Still amazed by Denny, I shook my head. "You'd really do that for me?"

"Like you told me before, Kiera, I'd do anything for you. You and Kellan both."

I didn't even know what to say to that, so in the end I just thanked him. Then I ran into the house and tossed my arms around Kellan's neck as I kissed every square inch of his face. "I'm going to be published!" I squealed.

Lacing his arms around me and gently sitting me beside him on the couch, he murmured, "I know. And you're going to be huge." His lips curled into an adorable pout. "When you're famous and I'm a has-been, you're going to leave me, aren't you?"

Giggling, I threaded my fingers through his hair. "For one, thanks to you, I'm already famous. And secondly"-I tenderly placed my lips against his-"I'm never leaving you." Pulling back, I lost myself in his amazing eyes. "And lastly, you'll never be a has-been. Not to me." Nope, not ever.

Two weeks later, Kellan and I said our goodbyes to our families and traveled back home to Seattle. Kellan was damn near giddy when our plane came to a complete stop. He immediately bounded to his feet and pulled me to mine. I wasn't sure why he was so excited as we exited the first class section, a complimentary upgrade from Nick. I thought maybe Kellan was just happy to be returning to familiar stomping grounds, but after acknowledging a few fans at the airport, gathering our things from baggage claim, and climbing into a taxi, the real reason for his excitement became crystal clear.

Instead of giving the taxi driver our address, Kellan gave him Evan's address. Confused, I looked over at him. "Why are we going to Evan's?"

It wasn't that I didn't want to see the guys. I did. But Kellan and I had been living with family for the last six weeks, and I wanted a little alone time with my husband. We had had some privacy at Gavin's and at my parents', sure. Dad had even let Kellan and I share a room since we were legally married. And even though we'd been warned not to, we'd broken the doctor's orders about restraining from intimacy. We'd actually broken that rule on week three. Kellan is hard to resist, and when he'd told me he felt fine as he was running his tongue along my collarbone . . . well, will power still wasn't my strong point, I guess. But those brief moments hadn't been nearly enough, and I was ready to go home.

Kellan glowed as he answered me. "We're not going to Evan's, we're going to the shop."

I was confused for a minute until I realized what he was talking about-the auto body shop beneath Evan's loft, the shop that was garaging Kellan's Chevelle. I rolled my eyes at him as I laughed. Boys and their toys. When the taxi let us out, Rox, the female mechanic who "knew" Kellan "very well," was there holding his keys. Kellan was so excited, he picked the girl up. I cringed, and not from jealousy. I just didn't want him injuring himself. He'd been given the all clear, but still, he should be careful.

Rox was laughing when Kellan set her down. With grease-stained fingers, she indicated inside the garage, where I could see a huge Chevelle-shaped sheet on the far side of the room. It made me happy that they'd protected the car as well as store it. It made Kellan's eyes shine as he gingerly took the keys from her.

Walking up to his car, he lovingly removed the cover. By the look on his face, I thought maybe I should give him a minute alone with his "baby." His smile wide, his hand slowly ran up the edge of the shiny black vehicle, then caressed the top. And damn if it wasn't erotic to watch; it gave me shivers, and I wanted him to finish fondling his car so he could fondle me.

From beside me, Rox murmured, "He sure loves that car."

I had to laugh as I watched Kellan rest his cheek on the roof. God. Really? "Yeah, that he does."

As I started to walk away, Rox blurted out, "I never believed the rumors . . . just so you know."

By the strange expression on her face, I didn't quite believe her. But I knew she was trying to be nice, so I played along. "Thanks. That's good to hear."

Stepping up to Kellan, I extended my hand, palm up. Lifting his head from the roof, he frowned at my gesture. "What?"

Keeping a straight face, I told him, "Seeing as how you're still recovering from a serious operation, I don't think you should drive."

Kellan's jaw dropped, and his fingers possessively curled around the keys. "I'm fine, and you know I'm fine. Sex takes way more energy than driving, and we've been doing that for weeks." A playful gleam in his eyes, he added, "And it didn't hurt at all when you rode me this morning. It felt pretty amazing actually."

Widening my eyes, I slapped my hand over his mouth. Rox was laughing, so I knew she'd heard him over the din of the noisy shop. I could feel Kellan laughing under my fingers. I considered punching him in the gut, just to see if that hurt, but I'd vowed never to hit anyone again so I contained myself. I did make him unlock the door and get inside as quickly as possible, though. He was laughing when I climbed in the other side. "What?" he asked, starting the car. "Am I wrong?"

Giving him a sly grin, I shook my head. No, he wasn't wrong. This morning had been pretty amazing. Kellan's stamina was right back where it used to be. In fact, you wouldn't even know he'd been in such a scary accident by the looks of him. The only visible mark on him was a slightly pink scar running down the middle of his abdomen from where the doctor had cut him open to save his spleen. But he'd been stitched together very well, and given enough time, the slight mark would be nearly invisible. I didn't care if the scar remained visible for the rest of his life. Inadvertently, the scar had saved his life. And, in a way that couldn't fully be explained, it was kind of sexy.

Really wanting to be alone now, Kellan and I headed for home. When we drove up to our street, a sad fact quickly became apparent to us. Sometimes, you can't go back home. Kellan's narrow, car-packed street was now so full of vehicles and people, we couldn't pull into it. Stopping alongside the main road, we looked down the street where tons of people were milling about. I could just make out our two story home, and I was horrified to see people taking pictures of it.

"Please tell me your neighbors are having a block party," I whispered.

Kellan looked back at me; his face was resigned. "I don't think this has anything to do with my neighbors."

While we continued to stare, a couple of those neighbors stormed into their yards and started shouting at the loiterers. I'd already known Kellan was right, but that confirmed it. Somehow, Kellan's house had become a well-known tourist attraction. And even if we called the cops and had these people removed, it wouldn't matter. They'd just come back. Idly, I hoped our stuff was okay. The thought of someone breaking in and smelling my underwear, or Kellan's, instantly flooded my brain. God, I hoped that hadn't happened.

Sighing, Kellan pulled back into traffic. I understood. We couldn't go back there. It broke my heart some. I had a lot of memories in that home. Some good, some not so good. But a place was just a place. His heart was my home, and I wasn't ever leaving it.

Kellan drove us to Matt and Griffin's house. It was in the comparatively quiet burbs, and no one was around when we pulled up. I doubted the fans knew about this place, so we wouldn't be disturbed here. And since Griffin had moved into my sister's apartment, Matt had room for us. Although, not as much room as we'd thought; Rachel had moved in over the holidays. But the pair were quiet and reserved, so I knew living with them would be comfortable-for the time being, at least.

Matt filled us in on what had happened with Kellan's house. Apparently, Joey had spilled the beans about where he lived in an interview with a skeezy online tabloid. Showing absolutely no ethics, the magazine had actually posted his address, and it had spread like wildfire around the Internet in just a few hours. After Sienna's confession of manipulating the public, Joey had also finally confessed to the world that she was the real star of the inconclusive sex tape and that Sienna had paid her to keep quiet.

I was both shocked and not shocked by the interview. We'd suspected that Joey had been paid off. It made me wonder if Sienna had also squashed the release of any of the other sex tapes, since no one else had come forward. Or maybe the other girls just had more self-respect than Joey. It didn't matter too much to me either way now. Let them be released. I knew my husband in a way that no woman watching erotic, self-made porn ever would.

While Kellan and I looked for a new place to live, I published my book as an ebook. Denny helped me prepare the manuscript and put together a classy, romantic cover that would instantly catch people's eye. Releasing it was scary as hell. I had no idea how people would react. I had no idea what they would say. But I had to do it. This was my dream, my career, my passion. So, with great trepidation and excitement, I uploaded my baby into cyberspace to be judged, hopefully more positively than negatively.

After the ebook went live, a feeling of relief washed over me. I'd done it. I'd created a story, a piece of my soul, and I'd had the courage to share it. Even if it wasn't universally accepted, I was proud of myself for following through with it. When I made my first sale, another feeling washed through me-excitement! I felt like I was officially an author after that moment.

While the ebook started gathering a fan base, I put my paperback together. It pained me to have to wait to hold the physical book in my hands, and I anxiously checked for my copies to arrive on my doorstep every day. When they finally did, Kellan intercepted the package. I'd been at lunch with Jenny, Kate, and Cheyenne, and when I got back to Matt's house, a note was taped to the front door. It merely read, Come find me.

Grinning at Kellan's handwriting, I opened the door. On the ground were rose petals. Each petal had one letter written on it. I was laughing as I followed the trail that spelled out, I can't wait for you to find me, so hurry up already. The excessive trail of petals led in a loop through the kitchen and into the living room. Oddly enough, the trail ended at the bathroom. I was hesitant to open the closed door, but I was too curious not to.

"Kellan, what exactly are we doing in here?" I murmured as I pushed it open. He wasn't in there, though. Instead, I found a huge note taped to the toilet. In large letters it screamed at me, We don't have time for mind-blowing sex in here. Focus, and come find me!

Turning around, I started laughing. "Kellan, where are you?" A sign near the bathroom light switch pointed down the hall, so I figured he was in our bedroom.

Heading down the hall, I noticed Post-its stuck to the pictures. Are you excited? Are you ready? Would you hurry up and find me? Griffin's old room that we were using as ours had a bunch of petals taped onto it. They formed a heart. In the center of the heart, a sticky note read, "I think I'm in here."

Giggling, I pushed our door open. "Kellan? What's going on?" He wasn't in there either, though. His guitar case was open on our bed, and the story notes for my next novel were strewn all over it. A bright pink note exclaimed, "Future bestseller!" I laughed harder and looked around for Kellan. When I still couldn't find him, I looked in the closet. I knew he had to be in this house somewhere. He wasn't in the closet, though. All I found was a piece of journal paper with song lyrics written upon it. The words were beautiful, and brand new. I could hear Kellan's flawless voice singing them in my head as I read them. You'll never know how incredible you are to me, how desperately I love you. I would do it all over again if I needed to. I'd go back to the beginning for you.

My eyes hazy, I again called out for him. He still didn't answer me. Wondering if his lyrics were clues, I went back to the beginning and headed to the front door. Still nothing. Just when I was sure I'd never find him, I opened the door and took a look outside. Standing on the welcome mat, resplendent in faded blue jeans and his black leather jacket, Kellan was holding a dozen long-stemmed roses in one hand and a copy of my paperback in his other. I didn't know what excited me more-finally finding him, the electric gleam in his eye, the smell of the fragrant flowers in his hand, or my name splashed all over the glossy six-by-nine cover.

Raising a brow, Kellan spoke before I could respond. "What took you so long?"

Laughing and crying, I flung my arms around him and pulled him out of the frosty air and into the house. I urged his head down to mine and thrilled in the coolness of his lips. Kicking the door shut with his foot, Kellan managed to speak a few words around my eager mouth. "I have . . . something . . . for you."

I was dying to finally hold my book. Letting go of Kellan, I extended my hands like a small child begging for a treat. Kellan immediately placed the roses in my arms. I frowned at him as he laughed; the roses were gorgeous, but he knew that wasn't what I really wanted right now. A teasing smile on his face, he pointed to the book I was aching to flip through. "You can't see it until you promise to sign one for me."

I pursed my lips, but Kellan shook his head. "Nope. I want a signed copy. I want the first signed copy."

Groaning, I nodded and shook my free hand at him. "Fine, I'll sign whatever you want, just let me see it."

Intrigued, Kellan murmured, "Really? Anything I want?" as he took back his flowers and gave me the book.

I ignored his suggestive tone as I stared at the sexy black and white photo of a woman standing between two men. The title, Irresistible, was sprawled across the top and the pseudonym I was using as my pen name was in big bold letters along the bottom. I wasn't hiding who I was anymore, but people knew my real name now, and I didn't want the story to become a success just because I was a rock-god's wife. Like Kellan, I wanted to make it on my own merits, not because of the hype that surrounded my life.

Holding the book was . . . surreal. I actually did it. I actually wrote and published a novel. Crazy.

"I'm so incredibly proud of you, Kiera."

As I looked up at Kellan, I could see that pride reflected on his face. It warmed me in places I didn't know I could be warmed.

Kellan's new tour, with Holeshot and Avoiding Redemption as his opening acts, was starting in April. I wasn't sure if it was the label's doing or Denny's, but the boys were going international this time. At the tail end of the U.S. tour, they had concerts set up in both the United Kingdom and Australia. I found it really humorous that the D-Bags were going Down Under. Life sure had a way of turning full circle.

But before Kellan could go on tour with the boys, something he was really looking forward to doing, he had to do something he was not looking forward to. But, shocking the hell out of myself, I was looking forward to it.

Zipping up my carry-on bag, I walked across my new bedroom to find Kellan. We'd moved into a new spacious home a couple weeks earlier. It was a lot nicer than any home I'd lived in before. It was almost too much for just the two of us, but Kellan insisted that when our family expanded, we'd eventually need the room. And the location couldn't be beat. Griffin had wanted us to get a place in Medina, right next door to Bill Gates if we could, but Kellan and I had opted to get out of the city instead. Traveling north, we'd found a private, secluded home on eleven acres. Our nearest neighbor was a sweet older couple who dropped by with pie when they saw our moving van driving past. Living in the countryside, our life was going to be a lot more reclusive than it had been in Seattle, but considering how crazy things became whenever we were out in public, a mellow home life with few distractions was exactly what we both wanted.

Retrieving our things from Kellan's old house had been a process. My friends had helped, and had braved their way through the throngs of near-constant visitors to get inside the home and pack it up for us. It was a little embarrassing having other people box up all of our belongings, but Kellan and I lived pretty simply, and there really hadn't been all that much stuff to begin with at the old house. And we still lived pretty simply. Our new home seemed a little empty with the scant amount of furniture we owned. I was going to have to get some help filling it up. Good thing Jenny and Denny were extremely good at shopping and decorating.

I did what I could to make our house feel like a home, though. There were personal touches throughout each room that made me feel like we were right where we belonged. As I walked through our spacious bedroom, I had to smile at the familiarity-Kellan's comfortable chair was tucked in a corner next to a floor lamp, creating a perfect space for reading. The Ramones poster I'd given him was framed and held a place of honor on the wall beside the D-Bags' Bumbershoot poster. Kellan's cowboy hat from the strip club was hanging off of a peg on the footboard of our new bed. And copies of the D-Bags' CD were resting near copies of my book. It already felt like we'd been living here for years.

Walking into the bathroom, I glanced over at the jetted tub large enough to sleep in, the ginormous two-person shower, and the expansive granite countertops. I could live just in this bathroom and be happy. Dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, Kellan was leaning on the counter, staring at himself in the mirror. He was taking long deep breaths in and out. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear he was nervous.

"We need to go. You okay?"

Kellan glanced my way, flashing me a perfectly carefree smile. "Yep. I'm ready."

Hands on my hips, I clarified my question. "I asked if you were okay."

His smile turning seductive, Kellan turned and wrapped his arms around my waist. "I just made love to a beautiful, successful author. I'm fantastic."

A bright grin exploded onto my face. Then my mind shifted back to Kellan's big news. "And your band is up for Best New Artist tomorrow, so we better hop on that plane and get your butt to the Grammys."

The nominations had been announced at the end of November, a week after our wedding, but Kellan was still in denial about the whole thing. He just couldn't wrap his head around how fast everything was happening. I couldn't either sometimes, but I wasn't as surprised as he was. Kellan was the entire package-looks, talent, charisma. He had that "it" factor that caught people's attention. The Grammys were only the beginning.

Kellan sighed, his smile relaxing. "Do I really have to go to this thing?"

Laughing at his reluctance to accept praise, even from his peers, I nodded. "You're scheduled to perform, so yeah, you kind of have to be there."

Kellan closed his eyes. "Why on earth did I agree to do that?"

I gave him a soft kiss as I squeezed him tight. "Because you can't resist a stage, and the world is a better place because of that fact."

Kellan opened one eye in a dry expression of disbelief. Laughing, I kissed him again. "Off you go to rule the world, rock star."

Releasing me, Kellan started heading for our bedroom. Over his shoulder he told me, "Well, it's not like we're actually going to win anyway. Our album hasn't been out long enough."

I kept my mouth shut, but I knew that fact didn't matter in this case. I had no doubt in my mind that Kellan was going to win.

When we were in the limo being driven to Staples Center for the ceremony, I reconsidered my excitement about being there. Aside from the industrial matting at my hospital-room wedding, I'd never walked a red carpet before in my life, and the thought of stepping out in front of all of those photographers made my stomach feel like a tiny person was in there frothing up some egg whites for a lemon meringue pie. I was possibly going to be sick. Looking at Kellan beside me, he surprisingly looked the exact same way. I was sure he wasn't nervous about his entrance, though-it was more his impending win that was bothering him. Kellan didn't mind the spotlight, but he wasn't the best at accepting kudos. He'd even refused to write a speech, saying there wasn't a chance he was winning so why bother.

To calm my nerves I pulled out my phone and sent a quick message. Kellan glanced down at my screen. Looking like he also wanted a distraction, he asked, "What are you doing?"

Smirking, I told him, "Tweeting your fans." Holding up the phone, I read him my message. "About to head into the Grammys. Wish me luck."

Kellan rolled his eyes at me. One of the first things Denny had done as Kellan's agent was to have him join some social media sites. He'd told Kellan that the best way to put rumors to rest was to directly interact with his fans. I agreed and wondered why we hadn't done it sooner. But the look of confusion, reluctance and irritation on Kellan's face had explained it all. "You want me to whatbook? And Tweet? Like a bird? Are you serious?" he'd said to Denny in exasperation.

Kellan had stayed as far from technology as he possibly could, for as long as he possibly could. He just wasn't into it. He didn't even own a computer. He either borrowed my laptop or Griffin's. He preferred to use mine. He said that Griffin's keyboard tended to be on the sticky side. I did not want to think about why. But Kellan was being forced into the modern age, practically kicking and screaming. His expression of resigned disgust when he'd agreed was so adorable that I'd taken a photo of it. Maybe someday I'd post it on his wall.

After my Tweet on Kellan's behalf, the well-wishes started pouring in. Kellan eventually laughed and got sucked into it. We stared at my phone for so long watching the comments coming in that we didn't even notice when we arrived at Staples Center. Kellan and the guys had already been there earlier, when they'd rehearsed, but that had been nothing compared to this. People were everywhere. Cameras were everywhere. Celebrities were everywhere. It was one of those surreal once-in-a-lifetime moments.

Staring out the window, Kellan murmured, "Fuck me," as the car pulled around to the drop zone. The rest of the people in the car started freaking out as we came to a stop. Not wanting to ride separately, our limo was pretty packed-Griffin, Anna, Evan, Jenny, Matt, and Rachel were with us. Everyone looked amazing too. Anna and Jenny had outdone themselves on our hair and makeup, and all of the boys had been approached by big name designers to supply our wardrobe. My dress was a stunning black one-shoulder piece that probably cost more money than I made in a year waitressing. I was being very careful not to stain, snag, or rip it.

The boys were dressed a bit more casually but still looked incredible. Evan was in gray slacks with a matching gray jacket and a black button-up shirt underneath. Matt was sporting fashionably frayed jeans with a dark blue blazer over a white shirt. Griffin . . . was rocking really tight leather pants. Everyone had tried to talk him out of it, but he refused to wear anything else. Anna had at least gotten him to change his mind about wearing a T-shirt that read Muff Master. Not because of what it said, mind you, but because she felt a T-shirt wasn't appropriate for an awards show. Kellan was decked out in black slacks, a white button-up, and a black jacket. His shirt was open for three or four buttons, and his jacket only had one button that met halfway down his chest. He was both fashionable and sexy as hell. It was hard to take my eyes off of him.

Before heading out into the spotlight, we all gave each other a round of encouragement, support, and gratitude. And then it was showtime.

My nerves evaporated about halfway down the red aisle. It's amazing how fast you get used to people shouting out questions as they snap photos of you. I didn't want to do this all of the time, but every so often wouldn't be so bad. Kellan's smile was seamless, his swagger seductive. No one but me would know that he was freaked out. And I only knew because he had a death grip on my hand. I wasn't sure what he would be more relieved about-winning or not winning. Playing would probably ease his nerves, but unfortunately the band was scheduled to be on stage after their category was up. He would have no reprieve from his anxiety until the moment of truth was over. But, like he did so often for me, I would help him through it.

While we sat through the ceremony, I tried to help him get his mind off of it. We joked about Denny and Abby babysitting Gibson over the weekend, about how Abby was going to want to have a baby of her own by Monday. That led to a discussion about which songs the band should play for their wedding ceremony in two days. Abby was a huge fan of "Islands in the Stream," but Kellan refused to cover that song or "Endless Love," which was Abby's backup song.

As the time approached for Kellan's category, he started talking less and fidgeting more. He also started obsessive-compulsively kissing the tattoo of his name on my wrist. It was so bad at one point, I thought he was going to wear away the permanent ink. When the two announcers stepped onstage for the Best New Artist category, Kellan's knee started bouncing up and down. I'd never seen him this frazzled.

Reaching over, I stilled his leg. Eyes wide, he turned to me and whispered, "I'm nervous. I'm really fucking nervous. I never get nervous. What the hell is wrong with me?"

Smiling, I told him, "You're human. And I think it's pretty safe to say that everybody in here is nervous on some level."

As the pair in front of the microphone tried to lighten the mood with really bad comedy, Kellan told me, "You're not nervous."

I stared at Kellan for a few seconds, debating whether or not to tell him something. I'd been planning on waiting 'til all the hoopla had died down, but I knew it would absolutely take his mind off of his nerves. It was going to blow his mind. It had sure blown mine. A short movie started playing clips of the nominated bands. When I heard Kellan's pitch-perfect voice filling the auditorium, I leaned forward and whispered my secret in his ear. His mouth dropped wide open as he stared at me in shock. Tears filled my eyes as I nodded at his unasked question.

A smile spread over Kellan's face right as the announcers spoke in unison, "And the winner for Best New Artist is . . ." When they paused for dramatic effect, Kellan leaned forward to kiss me. "The D-Bags!"

The room erupted in cheers and applause, but I was sure Kellan hadn't heard a word of it. Grabbing my face, he finished his descent to my lips. The other band members started standing, but Kellan was still sitting in his chair, plastering my face with light kisses. Cognizant of millions of viewers watching this on TV, I pushed him back and urged him to stand up. His face was exhilarant as he finally did. Evan and Matt clapped him on the back, urging him forward. I stood with the rest of the girls and clapped as they fumbled their way to the stage. Kellan looked back at me every five seconds, his euphoric face still in disbelief. Whether that was over winning or over my news, I wasn't sure.

The boys climbed up the steps to the stage and exchanged polite hugs with the celebrities who'd announced them. As if on cue, Evan and Matt stepped back and let Kellan take the microphone; Griffin was subtly restrained by both men with a "supportive" hand on each one of his shoulders. Shaking his head, Kellan clutched his golden gramophone statue as he walked toward the mike

"Oh . . . wow . . . I don't know what to say. I want to thank . . ." His voice broke and the tears in my eyes rolled down my cheeks. Bringing the back of his hand to his mouth, Kellan stopped talking. Shaking his head again, he slowly lowered his hand. "I'm sorry." His voice warbled with barely contained emotion. "My wife just told me she's pregnant." He had to step back again as the moment overwhelmed him.

People started hollering. The D-Bags jumped on Kellan, congratulating him. Every head in my vicinity swiveled my direction, including my sister's and my girlfriends'. I hadn't told anybody about this yet. I'd really only just found out about it. Last week to be exact. And surprised wouldn't even begin to describe my initial reaction. I was on birth control pills for one thing, so I hadn't even been worried about getting pregnant. I just thought I was late because I was stressed, or excited. A lot of big things had been happening lately. But I just felt . . . weird. I wasn't sick or anything, I just didn't feel normal. I was more tired than I should be, and I alternated between not being hungry and being hungry enough to eat two loaves of bread in one sitting. I'd made an appointment with my doctor just to rule out any illnesses. She'd assured me that I wasn't coming down with Spanish influenza, that I was pregnant.

When I matter-of-factly told the doctor that pregnancy was impossible, since I was a fastidious planner and I'd never missed a birth control pill in my life, she then informed me about a bad batch of pills that had hit the market. Apparently, the pills had been distributed in the packet incorrectly, so the dosages were wrong. Good to know. All of the mislabeled batches had been recalled, but I had apparently hit the birth control jackpot. Our baby was due in September.

While my sister and Jenny started quietly grilling me on details, Kellan finally composed himself. Approaching the microphone again, he let out a long exhale. "Well, I can honestly say that this is the best day of my life." When the cheers died down, he told the crowd, "I want to thank every single person who has ever supported us. Your dedication has meant the world, and we wouldn't be here without you. I may be overly emotional right now, since I'm about to be a father, but I really do love each and every one of you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."

I couldn't tell from where I was sitting, but I was pretty sure tears were in his eyes when he waved and stepped away from the microphone. I knew this emotional moment was going to be replayed on every show playing Grammy highlights tomorrow. It was going to be talked about on every radio station. It was going to be mentioned around every water cooler. And for once, I was glad. I wanted this moment to live on. I wanted to be constantly reminded of this memory. I wanted to replay this video in twenty years so I could remember the look on his face when Kellan found out he was going to be a father. And I wanted to show it to our son or daughter-so they would know, without a doubt, that they were loved. From day one, they were loved.