Page 106 of Three Months Yesterday

I don’t know why my fingers shake as I reach for the note, Ian wouldn’t let me do this if he didn’t know exactly where these flowers came from. All my fears fade when I see Beckett’s handwriting on the front of the card.

I’m sorry I’m missing our movie day. I’d rather be there with you than anywhere else.

I can’t wait to be home with you and Nugget. To have more movie days with you.

I press the note to my chest, missing him a little more than I did this morning. Behind me, Ian’s feet move across the wood floor and he begins unpacking the groceries.

“Movie day,” I explain, even though he doesn’t ask.

“Easiest day of the week.” I hear the smile in Ian’s voice and can’t help but agree.

Saturdays with Beckett have been the easiest days I’ve ever had.

The tour bus looks nothing like I imagined. Instead of over the top and luxurious, it’s simple and comfortable. The warm tones and black leather make the place look like a home, and I’m glad Beckett has that while he’s on the road.

He’s seated at a table with the kitchenette behind him, and seeing his face makes me wish I were there.

“Are you nervous?” I ask.

We’ve talked about so much over the last three and a half months since we met, but somehow we haven’t talked about how he feels before he steps on stage.

He laughs—that easy, confident sound that always pulls me in. “No. I don’t remember the last time I got nervous before a show.”

“Must be nice.”

“I think it comes with age and experience.” He shifts in his seat, leaning his elbows on the table to get closer to the screen. “How’s Nugget?”

“Active.” I laugh, rubbing my belly.

Beckett watches me through the screen, and I see something curious and maybe a little nervous pass over his features. I want to ask him about it, but decide not to push. I know he’ll say what’s on his mind when he’s ready.

“Have you—have you been thinking about names?”

I bite my lip to stifle my smile. That’s not the question I thought he’d ask, but I’m glad he did. “I have. I think I’ve narrowed it down to five.

“Share them with me?”

“Silas, Mason, Shepherd, Oliver, and Ramsey.”

His smile is soft and I wish I could run my finger over it, could feel that smile pressed against my cheek.

“I love them,” he whispers.

“Which one’s your favorite?”

Beckett’s body goes stiff as he pulls back from the camera. “No way. I’m not telling you that.”

“Beckett—”

“No, Madison. I want to be part of this, of raising him, but I haven’t earned that.” He swallows so hard I see it through the screen. “You pick the name.”

I take a second, truly looking at Beckett, and realize he truly believes that—even if that’s the farthest thing from the truth.

“He may not be biologically yours, but you’re just as much a part of this—of us—as I am. You definitely get an opinion.”

He goes still, something shifting in his gaze. The ambient noise of the bus fades into background static. “I love you,” he says, and there’s weight behind it, like they might just be the most important words he’s ever said. “And I miss you.” His voice breaks in the middle and it takes me a second to see the tears in his eyes.

“We love you too,” I say, my hand resting on my stomach. “And we miss you, but you’ll be home before we know it.”