URGENT (Book 2 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 33: (Even) Bad Girls Need A Father Figure

Mac

I have lost my ever-loving-fucking mind. I barely know this man I have latched onto like a floating door amidst the Titanic rubble. Clearly this is it—I have snapped.

Babycakes, thank god you have your daddy, because they are going to lock me in a loony bin.

I know I should let go of Matt del Marco, but he's so...solid and even calmer than Adam. Adam's heart would be racing now if I were clinging to him crying like this, but I can hear Matt's even thudding—because my head is pressed  right there on his chest like I'm surgically attached. 

It's strangely comforting, gripping this near-stranger. So I keep my death grip on Matt del Marco's neck and the side of my head buried into his Harley Davidson t-shirt, as I try to stop my sobs. He doesn't call security, he just pats me and laughs at me and keeps up a ramble of nonsense about solo albums and the portability of infants. 

Oh, that's where Trace gets that mumbling rant thing he does to talk people down or talk people into things.

No, Matt is not bothered at all that I'm squeezing the life out of him and christening him with facial fluids. I guess he's used to strange women latching onto him and completely falling apart. Thirty years of experience with fangirls, you know.

Oh  the fuck no.  I'm a rock star acting like a fangirl!

That one humiliating thought has me pushing off of Matt like he's a hot stove. "Awww, fuck del Marco...sorry. Temporary pregnancy insanity," I mumble as a stumble away and turn to the wall, frantically patting at my now destroyed face.

"Shit, I know," Matt says, sounding just like Trace. "It's all good. Marianne's the same, every time." 

 Everyone is silent as I walk off my freak-out. Even the kids. I guess crazy is kind of fascinating.

As if my humiliation couldn't get any worse, another VIP liason approaches. It's time for Lane and Alley to see the doctor.

"Is everything...okay?" she asks hesitantly, taking in the scene.

"Oh yeah, fine. Family reunion of sorts," Matt says breezily. "Annie...why don't you take the kids to the see the doc while I..." he tapers off. I'm sure he's wagging at his eyebrows at me or something, but I can't see, because I still have my face turned to the wall.

I hear Marianne gathering up the kids, but then she approaches and thrusts a pack of wipes with me. "You need anything else?" she asks. "Makeup? Eye drops?" She shakes her large Louis Vuitton diaper bag at me. Marianne is a mom through and through. Prepared for every emergency. I take the wipes gratefully and wave at my own purse.

As she is leading Lane and Alley away, Matt says to Adam. "Adam, can you go get us some drinks?  A couple beers, maybe...and a calming juice, for the Mama-Child."

"What kind of juice is calming?" Adam asks blankly.

"I don't fucking know, man," Matt says with a little edge to his voice. "That's what the nutritional mixologist is for."

I turn to see Adam's completely confused face. "The who?" he says.

Matt sighs and slings a hand toward the middle of the room. "That's what they call the bartender here."

I can't help but laugh at that. I hiccup, and sob one last time, before opening the pack of baby wipes. Adam smiles, and kisses my temple, taking a wipe from me and carefully edging beneath my eyes. "I'll be right back, ok?"

I roll my puffy eyes at him. It's both sweet and annoying that he thinks he can't take two steps away from me right now. "I'm fine—now."

His expression is plain—he doesn't believe that, but he gives Matt a swift look like he's relinquishing the Holy Grail to him and he strides quickly over to the bar. Watching him lean casually on his elbows, smiling and chin-tipping to the nutritional mix-a-whatsit calms me a little. Adam's ease, his steady demeanor, his confident strength--I soak it up from a distance. Because I sure as hell don't want to desperate fangirl on Matt again.