Unsung (15 page)

This was very true. Case in point, the entire ride back she'd been regaled with interesting tidbits about Liam.

As it turned out, Hamilton was a
huge
fan, so he knew quite a few facts without the assistance of the World Wide Web. And fan or not, the vetting process on whether Liam was good enough for Harper began, and Dale had been more than happy to help out. The two must've looked up every ounce of information that could be located about the guy, and repeated it for everyone else to learn.

The only person in the car who knew about the pregnancy was Mel, but as they'd all been witness to Liam making out with her in front of the hotel, they obviously knew
something
was up in some capacity. Couldn't exactly miss it, now, could they?

For the most part, Liam wasn't much for being in the spotlight when he wasn't on the stage; must've been a family trait as Logan was pretty similar on that front. Liam had dated a few semi-famous women—an actress or two, other musicians, a model—and those facts had all come with somewhat painful pangs. But as none of those relationships seemed to have been all that serious, she was able to breathe a little easier.

There was a part of her that had felt guilty about learning this information…like it was an invasion of privacy. But in the end, it was information that she was pretty sure he would've told her himself and really none of it was anything that was all that personal. It was observations from outsiders. She'd found out more about him within the first hour of meeting him than what the boys had pulled up on their phones.

“You Google me yet?” Liam asked, a shuffling on his side of the phone like he was moving papers around.

She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth…chewing on it as she tried to figure out how to answer.

“Honey, remember the new rule: no barriers.”

She dropped her lip from her teeth, smiling at the fact that he was calling her
honey
again. “
I
didn't.”

“Ahhh, so it was one of your companions. My money is on Dale and Hamilton.”

“You'd be correct.” She dropped the towel she was still twisting and sat on the edge of the bed, holding the phone to her ear with her hand.

“Well, in that case I get
two
conversations of asking you questions. And you don't get any follow-ups until then.”

“Oh, is that so?” Her eyes focused on the mirror across from her and she was taken off guard by just how massive that grin on her face had gotten.

She'd never seen anything like that before.

“Yup, and I've made a list.”

“Really now?” She grabbed a pillow and placed it on the space behind her on the bed, lying back and settling in.

“Spent the entire flight working on it, too. Could take hours to work through.”

“Well, then you should get started.”

“Question number one.” Papers rustled again and he cleared his throat. “When is your birthday?”

“July thirty-first.”

“Question two: Where were you born?”

“So you're starting from the
very
beginning?”

“The more interruptions you make, the longer this is going to take. I have
a lot
of questions, honey.”

Honey
. Yeah, her grin was somehow still growing. She was going to have to get a grip, because not only was it hard to talk around it, but it was going to crack her face in two any second now.

“Atlanta, Georgia, and it was four seventeen in the afternoon,” she answered.

“You being sassy will not make this process go any faster, either.”

She had absolutely no problems whatsoever with a long conversation with Liam. How
shocking.

Harper ended up staying on the phone with Liam until well after midnight. When they'd hung up—both more than a little reluctantly—she'd passed out with a massive smile on her face. A smile that had been there the entire time she'd gotten ready that morning…and hadn't budged in the least bit on her drive to Café Lula.

The first order of business that morning was breakfast with Mel and Grace, where she was grilled for about an hour. Even though Mel had known a lot of what had happened over the weekend, she hadn't been privy to all of the facts of Harper's conversation with Liam. Mel had been kind enough to refrain from interrogating Harper in the car—something she couldn't have done without revealing the pregnancy. But neither Mel nor Grace refrained from asking Harper every question under the sun over coffee.

Well, coffee for the girls and green tea for Harper. It was her first caffeine in weeks and she was going to happily enjoy every sip of it between answering—in great detail of course—all the questions thrown at her.

The beginning of the conversation consisted of Grace's opened-mouth shock interspersed with more
are you kidding me
's than Harper could count while the party portion of the weekend was recounted. And by the end of the conversation, both Mel and Grace were grinning just as much as Harper was.

“Well, this sure has taken a lovely turn,” Mel said happily.

“No kidding,” Grace agreed.

“So you guys are going to get to know each other?” Mel drummed her fingers across the table. “Just talk for a little while?”

“Yeah. Maybe this way we can actually get some talking in without, well—”

“Screwing each other's brains out?” Grace finished.

“Exactly.” She nodded, taking another bite of her cranberry orange muffin that was settling surprisingly well with her tea.

Keeping food down for the win.

Harper's phone was face-up on the table and it buzzed against the wood, alerting her of a text from Liam. She grabbed the phone immediately, sliding her thumb across the screen as she read the words.

Surprises on my morning run.

When she opened the text conversation—empty until now—a picture popped up of about forty peacocks blocking the path. A second later the three floating dots indicating he was typing were moving on the screen.

How are you feeling this morning?

Exhausted, but well worth it.
She even tagged on a smiley face emoji for good measure.
Looking forward to many more late-night conversations.

Who says we need to wait for the late night? I'm going to need my three facts about you before noon.

Yes, sir,
she typed quickly before she looked up to find both of her friends staring at her.

“What? It's Liam.”

“Really?” The mock surprise in Grace's voice was beyond exaggerated. “We had no idea.”

“Which just goes to show how oblivious we are, as that smile you're rocking is giving the sun a run for its money on brightness this morning. Good thing I have my sunglasses.” Mel tapped the pair sitting on the top of her head, and they fell down onto her nose.

“Was it this blinding when she was around him?” Grace asked Mel. “Because I might need to invest in sunscreen stock when I get to meet the man. And when is that going to be?” she asked, turning to Harper.

“In two weeks. He's coming to my next doctor's appointment.”

“Is he now?” Mel pushed her glasses back into her hair before she rubbed her hands together. “And staying for
how
long?”

“We haven't discussed that.”

“And
where
will he be staying?” Grace this time.

“We haven't discussed that, either.”

“Well, maybe you should discuss it. When are you guys talking on the phone again? And I don't mean texting,” Mel said before she finished off her muffin.

“Tonight.”

Harper already had the countdown going down in her head. It was the only thing distracting her from the inevitable conversation she was going to have with her parents in just a few hours.

It was a little after seven when Harper pulled into her parents' driveway that evening. She spent a solid five minutes sitting in the car, staring up at the house while she prepared herself for what was going to go down.

And while she was at it, she listened to the rest of Liam's song that was currently playing through her car's speakers. Because obviously she'd been listening to his music at any and all opportunities all day.

“You only get one chance at this life. So live it up, live it up right…”

Yup. That was the plan. Living it up right.

She couldn't help but think of the last time she'd had to prepare herself for a very similar conversation not five months ago. She'd sat her parents down at the dining room table and just ripped the Band-Aid off.

Brad is gone. The wedding is off.

Paul had said good riddance.
“Any man who doesn't realize what he has with you, isn't good enough for you.”

Delilah had cried…Harper predicted a repeat showing of that performance tonight.

As it was after seven she was hoping they'd already eaten dinner. She wanted this for two reasons. One, her parents would no doubt ask her to join them, and food just wasn't going to be an option for Harper tonight—less so because of nausea and more due to the fact that her stomach was tied up in knots. Reason two, she had no doubt both of her parents weren't going to be pleased with the news…and might in fact lose their own appetites.

No need to ruin everyone's dinner.

The last chords of the song echoed around her. She reached up and shut off the ignition, taking one last deep breath before she got out of the car and headed for the house.

“It's now or never,” she whispered as she walked in the front door.

Actually it was
now
or
now
.

She found both of her parents in the living room at the back of the house, the evening news chirping away in the background while Paul read the newspaper on the sofa and Delilah played solitaire on her iPad, reclining in her chair while she mumbled about corruption in the government.

“Knock, knock,” she said as she rasped her knuckles on the door frame.

It was then that Darby was alerted to another person in the house, rousing from her deep sleep as she bolted off her bed in the corner and ran to Harper.

“Hey, sweet pea.” Paul folded his newspaper and stood up, giving Harper a quick kiss on the temple.

“Were we expecting you?” Delilah asked, closing her iPad and setting it down on the coffee table in front of her. She pushed the pop-up footrest of her recliner down, sitting up and putting her feet on the floor.

“No.” Harper shook her head. “I was hoping you guys had a second, though. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Something serious?” her father asked, his brow furrowing in concern as he sat back down.

“Yes.” She nodded before taking a seat on the empty space next to her father on the sofa.

She'd barely settled down when Delilah blurted out, “Tell me you didn't lose your job.”

“No.” Harper shook her head, trying to swallow the sudden lump in her throat and wishing she had a glass of water. “I'm still gainfully employed.”

“Well, that's a relief.”

The humorless laugh that escaped Harper's mouth was unavoidable. “Yeah, I don't know that you'll be saying that in a second, Mom.”

“Harper?” Paul shifted forward, placing his forearms on his knees.

Better out than in.

Say it.

Say. It.

“I'm pregnant and—”

“Tell me it's Brad's,” Delilah said, cutting Harper off before she could get any further.

“Oh my God.” Another humorless laugh escaped Harper's mouth as she closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead.

Well, it hadn't taken any time at all for Delilah to go there. Awesome, just what she needed to make this conversation better.

She opened her eyes again and shook her head at her mother. “As Brad left five months ago and I'm about eight weeks along, that isn't something that's a possibility.”

Harper's eyes focused on her father who moved his arms from his knees and shifted back in his seat. He took a deep breath, his face now showing nothing as to what he was thinking or feeling.

Harper knew that look, when her father went from being expressive to revealing nothing. She'd seen it so many times. Usually it was when people came in with their hurt or sick pets, and before he even got a good look, he had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. He was very rarely wrong, but until he thoroughly examined the animal, he hid that initial diagnosis from the owners. Which was what he was doing right now.

“When?” he asked.

“When I went to Nashville…during the weekend that was supposed to be the wedding.”

“Nashville?” Delilah repeated. “When you were supposed to be supervised by your aunt Celeste?”

Otherwise known as Delilah's sister.

“Mom, I'm twenty-six. No one supervises me.”

“Well obviously.” She gestured to Harper aggressively. “Look what's happened.”

“Delilah,” Paul said sternly, effectively shushing his wife. “Who is this guy and how did you meet him?”

“His name is Liam James and I met him at the Second Hand Guitar.”

“At a bar! You met him at a
bar
?” Delilah shouted. So really Paul had effectively silenced his wife for all of about ten seconds. That was something at least.

“Liam James…Liam James,” Paul repeated, ignoring his wife. “Why do I know that name?”

“He's a musician.”

“A
musician
? Oh. My. God. Like he plays on the side of the street for dimes?”

“No, Mom. He doesn't play on the side of the road for money. He's actually very successful.”

“Successful?! I can't believe this!” She stood abruptly, the force causing her chair to move back, the feet screeching across the hardwood floors. “Can. Not. Believe. This. Why do you keep doing this to me? First you call off the wedding. Then you get knocked up by some stranger.” And with that she stormed out of the room.