Back to Me (Book Three ✓)

twenty-six

BEAU

"Aren't you glad to have him back?" Emma asks, leaning her chin on a long hand, big brown eyes glowing warmly at me. She closes her book, nearly finished after an afternoon of reading while I work on a new song, and gives me her full attention.

Rubbing a thick, velvety ear between my fingers, I use my other hand to give Zeus a butt scratch, pushing my lyrics to the side. His long legs hang off the lumpy couch, his head nestled snugly in my lap.

"I hope he's happy here," I murmur, scanning the apartment, now even more crowded with his large bed, excess food, and basket of toys. Dex said Mrs. Williams had had enough of Zeus - something about one destroyed houseplant too many - and Dex thought it'd be good for me to take him home again.

Now that I'm doing better.

His words, not mine.

Am I doing better?

The scratchy burn at the back of my throat is still there, probably always will be, but I haven't seriously considered drinking in awhile. Dex calls that progress.

"He's with you," Emma grins, slowly rising to her feet from her spot sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Why wouldn't he be happy?"

My mind shifts from the lack of space or outdoor access for the German Shepherd to Emma's growing belly, seemingly a little fuller each day.

"I'm going to make some dinner." She heads into the kitchen, peering into the fridge with a concentrated look on her face. It's better stocked now that she's around more and my stomach grumbles gratefully. "Mind if play some music?"

"Am I not good enough?" I cock my head to the side, a teasing smirk on my lips.

Pulling her long, blonde strands into a knot atop her head, Emma chuckles. "I'd love to listen to you - all day even. But considering you won't let me hear any of the new stuff all the way through..." she trails off, eyeing me playfully while sniffing a gallon of milk.

I tilt my head back against the couch, suddenly very tired. She's right - I haven't finished anything I've started the past couple of weeks. For the first time in my life, nothing sounds right. If I feel I've got the lyrics down, the guitar doesn't blend well. If I've got the chords, I suddenly forget how to write a song worth listening to.

It's a good thing I got Zach some of the music when I did - I've hit a complete block ever since.

Running my fingers through Zeus's fur, I lose myself in thought, mind lulled by the sounds of Emma cooking dinner. Boiling water, pasta snapping, something sizzling in the pan... Is that... Is that country music?

"Emma," I groan, standing as Zeus reluctantly moves to his dog bed, and make my way behind her. Eyeing the chicken popping in the pan, I take Emma's arm and turn her to me, her body close enough to mine that her belly presses against my abdomen. "What did I say about country music? I don't want the baby exposed to such a travesty so early in life."

I rest my hand on the side of her belly and my breath catches, as it does every time. There's something - someone - in there. A tiny person. My tiny person.

"Mmm." Easily, Emma rests her forehead against my shoulder, sliding her arms around my neck as she gently sways side to side. "But doesn't it make you want to get up and slow dance?"