19. Peyton

19

Someday, I'm going to look back on this adventure with Noah and ask myself, "Self, what the fuck were you thinking?" when it came to this damn road trip to Portland. It's not that I'm seven weeks pregnant and miserable. I know those days are coming and I have months to prepare for them. It's that we're driving with a puppy. A puppy who is still potty training and can't exactly ring the bell on the door when she wants to go out.

Noah's oblivious to her needs as he drives I-5. He's in the zone, thinking about Organized Team Activities. I tried to tell him he didn't need to be there, but under the circumstances, he wants to show the organization he's a leader. I question the latter because I swear if he could stick his head out the window like Stevie Nicks, he would. As is, we're stopping every two hours to take her potty, but then I worry she's not drinking enough water. And she's restless. Whining because she's cooped up in the car. I try to hold her, but that only lasts for a few minutes before she's moving to the back. When we got on the road, I had her strapped in. I found a cute dog seat and, being the responsible pet owner I am, bought it. Along with the suggested harness and a blanket. The latter wasn't needed, but it was sitting there on the app, so I figured why the hell not?

Stevie Nicks hates it.

Noah says it's because she wants to be with us, which I would agree with if she wasn't in the back trying to chew on things she shouldn't and acting all innocent when I scold her. And I'm the only one who can because Noah's driving, which makes me the bad guy.

"Why didn't we fly?"

"Because we thought it would hurt her ears," Noah says.

"Other dogs fly. Why did you talk me out of flying?"

He laughs. He didn't talk me out of anything. This was my grand idea.

"I'm crawling in the back with her."

Noah signals to shift lanes and then slows down.

"What are you doing?"

"Slowing down so . . ." he says, nothing else. He doesn't need to. It doesn't matter how many years have passed, the car accident is always at the front of his mind. I try not to think about it even though I live with the pain of what it has caused me.

I get into the back, much to Stevie Nicks' happiness. She crawls on my lap, kissing my face and hands, while I try to buckle my seatbelt. I hate being in the backseat and will probably end up closing my eyes. Maybe I can get her to lie on me and fall asleep.

"You good back there?"

"Yes." Probably not. I go through her puppy bag and find a bone for her to chew on. Everything with her is about redirection, rewarding her with a positive toy instead of scolding her.

"Bone," I say, echoing the command Noah's put on the buttons he's training her with. She gives me her paw and I reiterate my command. She finally takes it and melds into my side until she's slid down the seat. With one leg over mine, she uses my thigh as leverage to hold her bone in place. The jabbing or pinching hurts, but I ignore it. She's content and not chewing on the seatbelts, so I'll deal.

I'm tempted to ask my husband how much longer, but I know the answer. I've done trips like this before, going from city to city, state to state, in a decked-out tour bus. When the kids went on tour, each family had their own bus. Noah always stayed on the main bus with his parents, while Quinn, Elle, and I ended up in some rental. Ours still had bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen and eating area, but it wasn't the cool kid's bus. Sometimes, I'd ride in Noah's bus during the day, but I never slept on it. Once the wives and kids went back to Beaumont, the band ditched the rental and went back to their custom tour bus.

I miss those days. They were carefree and fun. As kids, we had no worries as long as we followed the rules. Sometimes, we'd have a babysitter, but it was always someone from the record label, sent out at Liam or my dad's request, so they could take their ladies out.

One year, Noah didn't go on tour with us because he had football camp. That summer, he stayed with Nick, and everything changed. When we came home, Noah had grown. He was no longer a kid, but on his way to becoming a man, while I was still the pesky little kid who followed him around.

He never said that to me, but I suspected it's what he thought. When Noah started dating, I cried myself to sleep every night for . . . I don't know how long. Months on end. Elle was tired of hearing me sniffle and would complain to our mom. I never told her why, despite her begging for an answer. At eleven years old, I hated everyone, especially the girls Noah brought home. I would antagonize, torment, and act like a spoiled brat to and in front of them. It didn't matter how much trouble I got into. They were the enemy, and I didn't want him with any of them.

His high school reunion is going to be fun.

I lean forward, resting my head on the back of Noah's seat, and slide my hand between the seat and the door, to where I can touch him. He places his hand on mine and instantly everything seems right in the world.

He's the man I crave. Desire. Dream about. He's never close enough, and when we're connected, I swear it's not enough. I have this fear growing inside of me that I won't love this baby as much as I love Noah. It's irrational. This baby is the best of us combined, and I know my motherly instincts will kick in and he or she will be my entire world. Does that mean Noah won't be? I shudder at the thought.

I don't know how long I stay this way, hours possibly, with my head on the back of his seat and Stevie Nicks content with her bone pressed against my leg. Long enough to feel a kink in my neck and maybe even doze off. When Noah signals and slows down, I sit up and look out the window.

"Where are we?"

"Outside of San Joaquin."

"She's content. I don't think we need to stop."

"We're meeting the jet at an airfield."

"What?" I glance at Noah through the rearview mirror, and he nods.

"You're already tired and when we got Stevie Nicks, one of the things we talked about was being able to fly. We need to start her on that now. Not later."

"But how did we end up here with the jet?"

"While you were sawing logs back there, I called your dad."

"I wasn't snoring."

Noah's eyebrow raises.

"Ugh. It's only because of the way my neck was."

"Whatever you tell yourself, sweetheart."

Noah drives a bit more and then pulls down a long road of nothingness. He parks in a parking lot with one other car and gets out. I hook the pup up to her leash and repack her doggie bag. After opening the door, I grab her, her things, and whatever else I can carry, and get out. There's a man with a luggage cart, helping Noah load our suitcases. He takes the things from my arms and smiles softly at me.

A couple hundred feet from where we are, the jet lands. I don't remember who it was, but one of the guys decided to wrap the outside in the 4225 West logo. Now, no matter where the jet is, someone always knows a family member is in town.

As we walk toward the airfield, the steps descend, and my brother appears. I look at Noah, who keeps his attention on the plane. Quinn meets us halfway and Noah hands him our keys.

"Thanks, man."

"What's going on?"

"I'm driving your car back, so it's there when you come home." Quinn leans down and hugs me. "I'll pick you up at the airport on Friday."

"You're the best!"

"I try," he says. "If you're all set, I'm off. It's a long drive back."

"Thanks, Quinn. I really appreciate you," Noah says as they bro hug.

We watch Quinn walk away before heading toward the plane. Secretly, I'm relieved. Noah's right, we wanted a dog that could fly, and this is the time to start her on doing so. When we get to the steps, she looks at them, almost as if they're going to bite her.

"You can do it," Noah says to her as he puts her paw on the first step. I step up, go to the third step, and wait for her.

"Come on, sweet girl." I give her leash the slightest tug to keep her attention focused while Noah taps her butt. She finally climbs the first, and then second, with Noah cheering wildly behind her.

"Give her a treat," he yells.

When she gets to the top, I have one in my hand and praise her. Who knew stairs were so challenging? While the plane is being loaded, I let Stevie Nicks sniff everything, including the pilot and the flight attendant. They love her and fall to their knees to dote on her. Noah sets out her water bowl and bed, even though we both know she'll be on my lap. He keeps asking me what I'm going to do when she's fully grown. The simple answer is nothing. I'm in love with her and want to snuggle with her all the time. What is likely to happen is she'll fall in love with the baby and won't want me anymore.

Noah and I buckle in and as soon as the engine roars to life, Stevie Nicks is on my lap. I hold her tightly, making sure she knows she's safe. Once we're airborne, the flight attendant comes over with a couple of drinks.

"She'll get used to flying. Another crew I work with, the owner of the jet, has six poodles. They all sit in their own seats. Nothing fazes them." She pets Stevie Nicks's head.

"That's good and exactly what we want."

"Beau travels well," she tells me.

Why hadn't I thought to ask Elle about Beau? "You're right. I forgot."

She leaves, only to return with some food. I hadn't realized I was starving until she put it down on the table in front of us.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, but I forgot your name."

"It's Sage," she tells me. "I've only been on a couple of your flights."

"Well, thank you, Sage."

When she walks away, I lean over and kiss Noah on the cheek.

"What's that for?"

"For being the best husband a girl could ask for."

He smiles. "I did it selfishly."

"Oh yeah?"

He nods. "I wanted you to sit next to me, but you moved to the back. I couldn't have that."

After we eat, I bring Stevie Nicks onto my lap. She lies across both of us while we watch a movie. Thankfully, the flight is short, but it gives me time to snuggle with my favorite human and our pup.

"Are you going into the office tomorrow?"

"I think Stevie Nicks and I might make an appearance. I think she wants to run on the field." Logan will lose his mind and he deserves it for the way he's treating Noah.

"What if Logan fires you?"

I shrug. "Then Stevie Nicks doesn't have to worry about a babysitter. Besides, I'd have a job before I even cleaned out my desk."

"Would you go to work for someone else?"

Another shrug. "I like the idea of freelancing. Getting game film might be hard, but it's probably something I can manage with each team. We'll see. I'm not worried."

"I am," Noah says. "I'm worried how their lack of commitment in me might affect you."

I turn slightly and cup his face. "Babe, we are fine. I love how you worry about me but believe me when I say things will work out. If they fire me, so be it. I'm seven weeks into this pregnancy and I honestly don't know if I want to go back to work. If this is our only child, I want to spoil the crap out of them. I don't want a nanny raising our baby."

"It's odd. I can't imagine not playing next year."

"There are other things in the world we could be doing."

He kisses me. "Like moving back to Beaumont?"

"Have you thought about it?"

He nods. "A little. My mom is very excited. She's ready to be a grandma."

"I think my parents might move as well, once the adoption is final."

"That would be perfect. We'd just need Quinn."

My heart sinks a bit. "Elle and I would have to convince Nola it's an amazing place for her to be. I'm not so sure she'd agree, though. Sometimes I wonder how much she's given up to be with Quinn when he hasn't given up anything."

"Love makes us do some stupid things."

"Hey," I say as I slap his chest.

Noah laughs and pulls me to his chest. "Oh, Peyton. The things I did to you on your eighteenth birthday could've gotten me into a lot of hot water. I'd do them all over again, given the chance."

"You'd change nothing?" I ask, looking up at him.

"I wouldn't let you go," he tells me. "I would've taken you home and told your parents I was in love with you and wanted to be with you. Damn the critics."

He could've lost everything. Part of me is happy we waited.

Just not the part that got damaged because we waited too long.