It’s not easy, but somehow, I get all five of us on a flight out to Panama City that evening. From there, it’s an hour drive to our beach house. I had rented a huge SUV that could hold all five of us, plus the necessities of our luggage, and then arranged to have the rest sent to the house. Drake drives while Shane and Jesse ride in the third row so I can stretch out in the longer middle seat.
It’s getting late and I’m exhausted. We don’t travel by plane much, unless the guys have to be at an awards show or something like a movie premiere that only takes us off our tour path for a day or so. I hate flying. I always get airsick and spend most of the time with a bag in my hand or in the bathroom. It didn’t make this morning sickness any better, and as soon as we’d landed, the guys were all threatening me with another hospital. When I’m finally able to keep down an entire bottle of fizzy lemon-lime soda, they don’t push the issue.
By the time we get to the beach house, which is technically just a huge cottage, I’m asleep. Strong arms lift me, and I don’t bother to open my eyes as I wrap my arms around Nik’s neck and drift off to sleep once more.
Bright morning sun floods through my window. I reach out for an extra pillow and pull it over my head to block out the harsh light. My bladder protests when I try to go back to sleep, and I sit up slowly so my stomach doesn’t have too many reasons to hate me. At a glance, my room is beautiful—vaulted ceilings, French doors that open on to a balcony, and creamy walls with a soft brown carpet. A sixty-inch TV hangs from the wall opposite my bed, which is draped in a taupe and cream comforter.
Standing, I pad into the connecting bathroom. Sea-green accents adorn the walls, candles everywhere in fresh scents of cotton and jasmine. There’s a Jacuzzi bathtub and a private shower. I know from the virtual tour I’d taken online that this is the master bedroom and bath because it’s the only one with a Jacuzzi. I wonder if the guys put me in here because of that luxury.
If so, I hate to tell them I can’t use the Jacuzzi because I’m pregnant. They have been so thoughtful, it warms my heart. Smiling, I use the bathroom then take a quick shower. My stomach grumbles for food for once, and I have this crazy craving for bacon and cheese grits.
Downstairs, I find the gourmet kitchen with its beautiful granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. As requested, the fridge and pantry are well stocked with food and soft drinks, but I can’t find any bacon or grits anywhere. I hadn’t requested those items; I haven’t even had grits since I was a little girl.
My stomach growls and I sigh. Nothing else sounds appealing. I don’t know if I can bring myself to eat anything if I can’t have my bacon and cheese grits. Pulling out a Sprite, I open the bottle and take a small sip.
“Morning, Em.” Shane comes in through the sliding doors that lead outside. He’s covered in sweat, having just finished a run on the beach. “How are you feeling?” he asks as he opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water.
“I’m hungry,” I tell him with a small pout.
“That’s good news.” He drops down into a chair at the kitchen table. “Can you fix me something too?”
“We don’t have any grits.” There’s a wobble in my voice, and a tear escapes my left eye. I’m going to cry over not getting grits? What the hell?
Shane, seeing my tears, is quick to soothe me. He takes my hands and gives them a little squeeze. “So, make something else, sweetheart.”
I shake my head. “I want grits,” I whisper. “I guess it’s some crazy pregnancy craving because I don’t think I can eat anything else. I want bacon and cheese grits… Just like my mom would make when she was actually sober.” My chest hurts just thinking about my mom, causing some deep-seated pain to come loose, and I start sobbing.
Poor Shane is at a loss. I hear footsteps rushing into the kitchen, Jesse’s angry voice demanding to know what’s going on, and then I feel his strong arms wrap around me.
“Em? What’s wrong, honey?”
I can’t answer him, so I just bury my face in his neck and continue to sob. I hadn’t cried for my mom when she’d died. At the time, I’d been so relieved. She was a monster of the worst kind, subjecting me to beatings on a regular basis. Growing up in a trailer where half-empty liquor bottles were always lying around amid crack pipes and heroin needles, it’s a wonder I turned out half normal.
“She wants some grits,” I hear Shane tell Jesse. “With bacon and cheese, like her mom used to make.”
“Well, go get her some damned grits and bacon, Shane!” Jesse yells, exasperated. He lifts me and then sits me on his lap. I hear Shane scrambling around then slamming the back door as he races out.
“Emmie, it’s okay. We’ll get you your grits, sweetheart.” He’s rocking me now, his voice the one he uses for hurt little things.
I shake my head. “It won’t be the same. It won’t taste the same. She made it so good. I loved those grits. They were my favorite.”
“Oh, Emmie.” He blows out a frustrated sigh. “Honey, she was barely coherent ninety-five percent of the time. Why are you even thinking about her now?”
“I don’t know.” I sob harder. “She was evil, and I shouldn’t let her invade my mind. But…she was my mom, Jesse.” My nose starts running, and without thinking, I wipe it on his shoulder as he continues to rock my shaking body. “All I can think about is how much I want a bowl of her bacon and cheese grits.”
“Okay, sweetheart. I swear we will get you some, and I will slave over the damned things until they taste just the way you want them… Just please stop crying. You’re tearing me apart.” There’s the slightest quiver in his voice, and I raise my head to see that his big brown eyes are damp.
My sobbing stops. I didn’t realize my pain is his pain, too. “S-s-sorry.”
“Is this part of those pregnancy hormones I heard about?” he asks, running a hand over his bald head. “’Cause if it is, I don’t think I will survive this shit long.”
A laugh escapes me. “I guess so… I never think about my mom. This is so messed up.” I don’t like it, and I hate that I spent even a second crying over that evil bitch. Grimacing, I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands and notice that Jesse’s shirt is soaked with tears and snot. “Sorry about your shirt.”
He pulls it over his head and uses it to dry my face. “It’s only a shirt, honey. There. Now, that’s better. My pretty Emmie is back again.” He presses a kiss to my forehead and moves so I’m sitting on my own and he’s standing. “I need coffee.”
Jesse goes about making a huge pot of potent coffee. The smell fills the whole house, and soon Drake stumbles into the kitchen, half blind with sleep as he pours himself a cup of Jesse’s special blend. The stuff is so thick it’s like swallowing Jell-O. I only ever drank it once. My stomach had cramped for hours, and I felt like I was on speed. Never touched the stuff again.
Nik is just joining us, a pair of sleep pants hanging off his lean hips, when Shane comes in with two shopping bags. He seems more out of breath now than after his run. “I bought all the grits they had, Em. One of each brand. I didn’t know if we had cheese or what kind you wanted, so I got several different options. And I hope that’s enough bacon.”
I throw my arms around him, not caring that he’s still drenched in sweat. “Thanks, Shane.” He has gone completely overboard, but he is so sweet to get me what I wanted because I’d been so upset.
He kisses my cheek. “Anything as long as you’re happy, sweetheart.”
“What’s that about grits?” Nik asks, adding sugar to his mug of coffee. “I’m starving.”
“Em wants some bacon and cheese grits,” Jesse says as he opens a pack of bacon and tosses it into a pan on the stove. “So, Em is getting bacon and cheese grits.” He winks at me as he starts putting away the rest of the groceries. “Just the way her momma made.”