URGENT (Book 2 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 60: Bad Girls Get Married In Flannel And Boots

I couldn't figure out how to post a playlist. Therefore, I can only post one-half of Madam's musical "vows."   H.O.L.Y. by Georgia Florida Line is what Adam sings to Mac. To hear the song Mac sings to Adam, PLEASE listen to the YouTube cover of Best Shot by Nicole Rayy. I think these two country love songs capture Madam completely!

Mac

"Oh my fucking god," I moan around the fork of barbecue that Adam feeds me while I sit in his lap.

"Sssssshhhhh, toddler's learning phrases in earshot," he laughs as Brett's eyes go wide and she stops herself from covering Billie's ears. He buries his face against my shoulder. "Starving pregnant lady," he says by way of excuse, holding out his hands to Tyler and Brett.

It's a damn good excuse. I am pregnant. And starving.

"Ohhhh, sorry," I mumble as I grab Adam's utensil and swirl another forkful of pig into the sauce. "This is the best sauce I've ever had," I attest.

"Family recipe," Joely says as she breezes by our grouping of Adirondack chairs. "We could always do barbecue for a wedding reception."

"Or maybe just an illegitimate baby shower," I shoot back with an easy grin.

Joely Heartley and I have made a sort of peace built on equal and opposite strength.

"We'll see," she says as she saunters away to some older guests.

"You'll see," I murmur to her retreating back as I offer Adam a fork of barbecue and Adam tries to show me house stuff on Tyler's phone.

"I like that stone." Really, I don't care. I just picked one. Adam squints at it, spreading his fingers on Tyler's phone to get a better look. "Unless you don't," I add. "Really, it's whatever you want, Adam. As long as it has 13 bedrooms. Two for each Soundcrusher—one for them and one for their eventual kids. Thirteen bedrooms is my only requirement."

"I like that stone, too. But...it seems like you've got a couple extra bedrooms there," he notes.

"Well obviously, our kids need their own bedrooms." I say, gnawing on piece of corn. "It will be their part-year home."

Everyone around our group of Adirondacks—Brett, Tyler, Trace, Kat, Leed, Tam, Ben, and Adam—cock their heads in mathematical calculation.

Trace is quickest. I see the count dawn automatically in his eyes, but he just shakes his head at me like I'm insane and murmurs, "Breeder."

"Hold up, I'm drunk," Leed looks up from his phone, and reaches for the bottle of tequila at his feet. "So I must be confused. He takes a swig and points at me with a swaying finger...like there are three of me. "Is my math right? Are you sayin' you want four kids?"

I just gnaw on my corn, with raised eyebrows.

It's fucking crazy, I know. Never fucking ever would I have believed you, if you'd told me a year ago I would want four kids. But Adam...

He makes me want to embrace life. Embrace joy. Embrace abundance.

Kat squeals, "Awwwww, many Madam mini's!" and everyone laughs.

Adam lifts the hair from my neck and places a very sweet, very light kiss on the back of my neck. It's the first time in a long time that's felt good-- anyone touching me there. Not since my assault. But his lips on my most vulnerable, most sensitive, most flighty spot feel like moonlight pouring peace into my spine.

Fluid, silver serenity.

My whole composition softening and remaking against his firm, solid structure.