“I like her, but—” He stopped short, because lying felt useless. Instead he shook his head. “She drives me crazy.”
Nolan smirked. “That’s not a denial.”
“She’s stubborn, she argues just for the sake of it, and she’s got this way of getting under my skin like no one else ever has.”
Nolan nodded along. “And yet she’s the one you told.”
Clayton didn’t say anything. He just stared into the fire, the warmth licking at his skin, offering nothing against the cold weight settling in his chest.
Nolan was wrong about one thing.
He hadn’t been falling for her.
He’d already fallen.
CHAPTER 19
JAMIE
Ruth and Nolan had become attached at the hip. After she’d walked him out of the studio, he’d asked for her number and then called before he even left the parking lot. Their dates took them to movies, restaurants, and bowling alleys, each one deepening their connection. It was adorable—the kind of adorable that made you believe in love and also the kind that made you want to gag a little.
Nolan was good for her—gentle and kind in a way Ruth needed. Every time he dropped her off at Shorty’s penthouse he made a point to check on Poppy. The worst of her morning sickness had passed, but exhaustion kept her asleep most of the time. Jamie noticed the way Ruth softened just a little when Nolan did that, like she wasn’t used to men being so lovely.
The mixing and mastering were done on Jamie’s record, so she stayed home with Poppy and bingedLove Is Blind. The dog could go into labor at any minute, plus she loved watching reality dating shows, her not-so-secret obsession. She’d often comment on her socials about who the contestants might choose, and more often than not she was right.
Jamie’s phone pinged and she read her message. The album artwork was finally ready, so she turned on her computer and downloaded the files. She hated what her record company had chosen for her previous albums, but this cover was different. At her insistence they’d used an artist instead of a photographer, and it was better than she’d ever expected. The artist had illustrated her facing away, reminiscent of Taylor Swift’s cover forEvermore, but instead of being in nature she was on a stage, ready to rock. She clicked on the PDF of the back cover, which featured a similar drawing, but this time it showed her facing the audience. The track listings were numbered in the order she wanted—the album sequence was her decision—with the last song being “When We Two Parted.” Shorty loved the song and fought for its inclusion on the record. Doofus, of course, hated it, which made her insanely happy.
A noise came from Poppy’s bed so she got up and checked on her. The dog was panting heavily, but it wasn’t warm inside. She checked the thermostat: it was 68 degrees, on the cooler side of room temperature. Then she remembered Nolan saying it was a sign of labor.
She dialed the vet’s number but it went straight to voicemail. Frustrated, she called her assistant, knowing they were together.
“Hi, James!” Ruth answered on the first ring. “Everything okay?”
“I think Poppy’s going into labor!”
“Oh my God!” She repeated the news to Nolan. “We’ll be right there.”
Ten agonizing minutes later Ruth and Nolan burst through the door, his doctor’s bag clutched tightly in his hand.
“How long has this been going on?” Nolan asked, snapping on latex gloves as he pressed on Poppy’s stomach.
“I called as soon as I noticed.” Jamie knelt beside Poppy and could feel her pain. “She won’t settle. She’s been pacing around the room since I called you. Just circles and circles.”
“That’s normal,” Nolan said. “It could happen tonight.”
“This is so exciting!” Ruth clapped her hands, bouncing. “Reba’s on her way out!”
Poppy whimpered, her body trembling as a small puddle formed beneath her on the floor. Her big brown eyes darted toward Jamie, a mix of confusion and instinctive urgency shining in them. She panted heavily, her sides heaving with each breath, and let out another soft whine.
“Did she just pee?” Jamie asked. “She’s never had an accident in the house.”
“No.” Nolan scooped her up, cradling her gently as he stepped into the whelping box. He’d built it himself in his workshop, every wooden panel sanded smooth, and lined it with soft blankets. “Her water broke.”
“Jesus,” Jamie said, grabbing paper towels to clean up the mess.
“It won’t be long, now.” Nolan checked his watch. “A couple of hours tops.”
“Should I be boiling water or something?”
