“My sister?” I choke out.
“Yeah. I told her first to see if she thought I should tell you now or wait.”
My face is numb. A thousand invisible needles are pricking the hell out of it. “Okay.”
“Maybe I should’ve waited,” she says softly. “But, Dallas, I don’t want to be the reason you punch out Jase Wade. Or the reason you miss out on this tour. This is huge. Your career is growing astronomically at a rate most people can only dream of. I am so proud of you. So believe me when I say, I didn’t come here to tell you this so that you’d stay behind or whatever. Go. Live your dream and show those people how we do music in Texas. I will be here when you get home and we can talk. But know that if you decide you don’t want this, me or the baby—both or either—that’s okay. I’m okay. I can do this on my own. You can be as involved or as uninvolved as you like. That’s what I invited you over to dinner to tell you. Then you told me about the tour and you were so excited and I didn’t want to piss on your parade, so to speak. But I won’t make the same mistake I made when I didn’t tell you about my mom.”
“So there isn’t someone else?”
There you are, words! Finally.
Robyn shakes her head slowly. “Well, technically there is, but he isn’t born yet.”
“He?” Christ, I hear my own voice crack.
“I don’t really know for sure,” she tells me. “But it feels like a he to me. I’ll find out in about six to eight weeks. I’ll text you. I can even send the ultrasound picture. If you want me to, that is.”
“Denver,” I say, finally putting the pieces together as my brain catches up. We weren’t careful. Several times.
“Yeah. Denver. And I take full responsibility because I missed two birth control pills that week. I didn’t even realize it until later. So this is on me. I am not upset. If anyone was going to knock me up, I’m glad it’s you. I am just so sorry that I have to put this on you when so many amazing things are happening in your life.”
“Don’t do that. I was there, too. Don’t be fucking sorry.” The command comes out harsher than I mean for it to and Robyn flinches.
“Dallas,” Mandy calls out from behind me. “We need to get moving.”
“You should go,” Robyn tells me. “Don’t want to miss your flight.”
I drive my hands into my hair and leave them on top of my head. My head is shaking back and forth. Go? I can’t go. I can’t leave her. I won’t. What the fucking fuck is happening to my life right now?
“I just . . . I thought you’d met someone. I thought you and Wade—”
“No,” Robyn says, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. “There’s never really been anyone else for me, Dallas. I kind of thought you knew that by now.”
That feels so damn good to hear, I feel like I could sprint to Mexico.
“Dallas!” Mandy barks again. “Time to go!”
“Wait,” I say more to Robyn than Mandy. “Then how’d you know I punched him? Wade tell you?”
“She mentioned it,” Robyn informs me, nodding at my manager, who’s growing more impatient by the second. “When she dropped by my place to tell me to stay away from you.”
The fuck?
“She what?”
“She’s also the one who told Dixie to sit out the encore at the showcase in Nashville. Said she was holding you back. You might want to discuss that with her.”
My blood pressure rises so high I can feel it. Dixie’s hang-up about holding me back makes so much more sense now.
“Dixie tell you this?”
Robyn nods. “I’m happy for you, Dallas. I am. And I meant what I said about being here when you get home. Regardless of what you decide. But one thing is for damn sure. You need a new manager. Like yesterday.”
She glances around me to glare at Mandy.
“You can say that again.”
“Okay, I will.” Robyn leans up and brushes her sweet little pouty lips past mine on her way to my ear. “You. Need. A. New. Manager.”
God her voice does it for me. I let my hands fall to her hips. “Message received, sweetheart.” I wink while simultaneously lowering my head to give her a kiss.
She pulls back before I make contact. I squeeze her hips firmly in protest.
“Let’s not do this here right now. Just take some time and think about what you want, okay? I love you, you know I do. But things are different now. We can’t do the casual hook-ups anymore. We’re going to be parents.”
“I’d argue we can hook up all the time since technically you can’t get any more pregnant.” I grin and she slaps me playfully on the chest.
“I’m being serious, Dallas. I mean it. I don’t want you in our lives because you feel obligated or something. I want you to think long and hard about what you want. Okay? Promise me?”
“I promise. But I want you, baby. I’ve always wanted you and I will always want you. I already know that. I’ve known that for a long time now.”
Robyn makes a sound like I’ve kicked her and there are tears forming in her eyes.
“It’s not just me anymore, okay? And it’s one thing to say that and another to mean it.”
I can already picture her growing round with my baby in her belly and fucking hell, I’ve never really had a hard-on for pregnant women, but this one, this one being round with my baby is about to push me over the edge in a crowded airport.
“I love you, Robyn Breeland. And I’ll come home as soon as I can so that I can show you just how much I want you and all that comes with you. Or . . . tell me to stay. You need me to stay, pretty girl? Say the word and I’ll tell them to go on without me.”
And now she’s crying.
“Dallas!” Mandy has lost her patience and marched over into our moment. “We have to go right now.”
“No, Dallas. I couldn’t live with myself if this held you back from your dream. Go. I’m fine,” Robyn says through her tears. I wipe them with my thumbs and kiss her gently.
“There. She said go. Let’s go,” Mandy demands.
“I’m on my way.” I turn my attention back to my girl. “You’ll text me every update?”
“I will. Promise.”
I steal one last kiss. And then another. And then one more, until Robyn pushes me toward the escalator.
The numbness wears off and reality settles in as I make my way through security check.
I’m having a baby.
With Robyn.
I’m going to be a dad.
I couldn’t be more ill-equipped if the pilot announced we had to jump from the plane.
36 | Dallas
“WHAT IN THE EVER-LOVING HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM, DALLAS?” Mandy’s shrill voice greets me as soon as I step foot offstage. I’ve barely pulled my in-ears out when she starts in on me. “You’ve been avoiding me since this leg of the tour began and now you’re performing like a brain-dead zombie out there. Care to tell me what exactly is going on with you?”
I rub my throbbing head for a solid minute while she waits for my response. What exactly is going on with me, she wants to know. I can only imagine her face if I gave her an honest answer.
“Not particularly,” I tell her while pulling out my phone to see if Robyn’s sent any more updates. Nothing since last night. I frown at the screen.
“So help me, God, I will have your phone cut the fuck off if you don’t put that away and give me a straight damn answer.”
“Easy, Lantram. Damn,” Jase Wade calls out from behind her as he approaches. “This is a chill zone and I need to get in the right head space before going onstage. Give the kid a break, will you?”
She glares at the both of us before pointing a finger at me. “Get your shit together, Dallas Walker. I mean it. You are replaceable. Keep that in mind.”
I stare blankly after her as she storms off and I slide my phone into my back pocket.
She’s right. Dallas Walker is replaceable. Hell, Dallas Walker doesn’t even really exist.
I glance at the leather pants I hate, the boots I never would’ve bought myself, and the torn T-shirt she said “enhanced my edge”—whatever the fuck that is.