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Chapter Two

“You wouldn’t understand. It’s a girl thing.”

If I had a dollar for every time a girl told me I wouldn’t understand something, I wouldn’t have to ever work again. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. You don’t get paid like a stripper for not comprehending how a woman’s mind works. Damn.

“So she didn’t talk to you at all?”

“She didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the day. I really can’t blame her. They’ve been married almost a year. I went through the exact same thing when I was married to Hunter and the stress can play at your emotional stability. Of course, what they’re going through is ten thousand times worse because she keeps miscarrying. I couldn’t even get pregnant.”

We were on our way home from the studio. Leighanne, still high from whatever hormones get girls in baby mode, had spent the entire day planning the Littrell and Carter kids futures with Livvy.

“And if it’s a boy, we can get him together with Kayleigh,” Leighanne explained. The girls burst into giggles. Brian and I were leaning against the control booth stuffing our faces with roast beef sandwiches. Brian swallowed and pointed the rest of his sandwich at the girls.

“Kay is three months old. We are not talking about dating or marriage until she’s at least thirty five. And she’s definitely not dating a Carter.”

I looked over at him, my mouth full of lettuce and meat. “Wha’s wrong with a Carter? I’mma perfect gentleman.”

Brian gave me a look. “Nick, I’ve spent half my life with you. Think about the stupid stuff you did, well, still do.”

“Hey, just ‘cause I ooze passion out of every pore does not mean I’m not a gentleman.”

Brian snorted. “Well then if AJ and Rochelle ever have a boy I sure hope he dates Brooke.”

My eyes widened. I had a sudden vision of a boy covered in tattoos and piercings with purple hair pulling up to the house on a motorcycle and speaking in a horrible fake British accent. Brian grinned.

“Did I make my point?”

I kicked him in the shin and finished off my sandwich.

“Let’s just get back to work.”

Getting back to work was easier said than done. Leigh had left early with James who wasn’t feeling well. He was holding his ear and had the same grouchy face Howie got whenever I did something stupid…which was a lot. Even though Howie is a stickler for staying on task, I could tell that part of his mind was with family. AJ was even worse. He was completely distracted. Rochelle had finally returned to the room, but she was sitting in cold silence away from the other girls. AJ’s eyes kept darting over to her.

“What’s wrong with monkee?” I finally asked.

“Nothing,” AJ said. He slid on his sunglasses. “Just tired.”

I hadn’t believed AJ, but I let the subject drop. However, as soon as Liv and I had gotten in the car, she explained what she thought was wrong. It all came back to babies. It seemed to be the hot topic of conversation in Backstreet world lately. Everyone knew about Rochelle’s miscarriages and the sight of Livvy pregnant again obviously didn’t help.

“I’m glad you couldn’t get pregnant,” I said, feeling as if I should jump back into the conversation. “I can’t even watch The Simpsons anymore. Crusty the Clown reminds me of your jackass ex-husband every time.”

Liv laughed. “Well I guess it just took the right person to complete the job.”

I grinned. “And super sperm.”

“Would you give the super sperm thing a rest? I think I had a nightmare about little capped crusaders the other night.”

Even though I don’t remember much about my bachelor party, Liv had told me that when I returned home that night that I had a theory that my guys wore capes with lightning bolts. Obviously that description was hard to forget.

“Were they wearing red capes?” I teased. She punched me in the arm. It didn’t hurt but I still winced for dramatic effect.

“Ouch! You hit hard for a pregnant lady.”

“Don’t you forget it,” she retorted with a smile. Her eyes lit up.

“Hey, can we stop at McDonald’s?” she asked as the Golden Arches came into view. I swung into the lot.

“What do you want?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully which I thought was adorable. She always got the same thing every single time, yet she always seemed to consider my question as if she really was going to choose something different.

“Get me a Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal,” she finally said.

I pulled up to the speaker and ordered a #1 (Big Mac) for me and a #3 (Quarter Pounder) for her. I crept through the line and finally reached out for the greasy bag. I hadn’t lost all of my “sympathy” weight from when Liv was pregnant with Brooke; I had gained even more for baby #2. Choreography for the upcoming tour was going to kick my ass.

I pulled back into traffic and dug through the bag. At a red light I stopped and handed a fry to Brooklyn.

“What are you doing?” Liv asked as Brooke grabbed onto it and squished it between her fingers.

“I’m giving the kiddo a fry,” I said. I refrained from using the word ‘duh.’ I watched through the rearview mirror as Brooke’s face lit up as she smashed it into her mouth. She bounced in her seat. I had just introduced the next generation to McDonald’s. I swear I should replace Ronald as spokesperson.

“She’s never had a fry before,” Liv said. She watched Brooke like a hawk until the fry was completely gone.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Liv smiled. “I think she liked it.”

I saw Liv reach into the bag. She pulled out another fry. The moment Brooke saw the crispy yellow object she leaned forward in her car seat, grunting as she attempted to reach it. When Liv gave it to her, she didn’t waste any time trying to squish it. She nibbled on it ravenously, a little bit of drool escaping out of the corner of her mouth.

“She might not like jar baby food but she likes fries,” I said with a laugh as I pulled into our driveway.

For the last month and a half Liv and I had tried to introduce Brooke to the world of solid foods. She was putting up a hell of a fight. The only thing she would eat, and not happily, was mashed carrots. Everything else was spit out or even worse, thrown back at us. One day I had so many beets in my hair that by the time I rinsed them out I was sporting splotchy pink hair. It didn’t look as bad as the time that Liv’s hair was dyed blue, but still…it was pretty bad.

Liv got Brooklyn out of her carseat and we headed inside. Twenty minutes later Brooklyn was sucking on a bottle while Liv and I sat on the couch, our feet propped on the coffee table with empty burger boxes and fry sacks scattered around.

“I never used to be this messy,” Liv said. “Really.”

I picked a fry crumb off her stomach. “That’s why the world invented maid service,” I reminded her.

"I just feel like I'm shirking my wifely duties," Liv said with a sigh.

"Trust me, housekeeping is at the bottom of my list in the importance of wifely duties," I said with a grin. My hand slipped between her legs. "Everything else you do quite well."

Liv rolled her eyes and moved my hand. “It’s not happening tonight. Don’t forget I have a doctor’s visit tomorrow.”

"What time's your appointment?" I asked. I stood up and walked into the kitchen. Feeling too lazy to walk over to the trash can, I leaned over the kitchen island and with the natural athleticism of a basketball player, I tossed our fast food bags into the trashcan. Nothing but net, baby.

"Ten," Liv said with a yawn. "And I promised Leighanne I would go with you to the studio afterwards to give her a personal update."

"Well you have to come to the studio Wednesday, too."

"Why?"

I grinned. "'Cause it's Kev's birthday."

Liv's eyebrows arched. "Should I be worried?"

Why?"

"Because something tells me you guys are going to do something stupid. He's turning forty this year isn't he?"

"Oh is he?" I said innocently. Of course I knew he was turning forty.

“He’s going to kill you guys.”

I sat back down and wrapped my arm around her slender shoulders. “He needs to loosen
up. Our little surprise should do the trick.”

Before Liv could ask me what our surprise was, I pointed to Brooklyn. “Look at the little panther.”

Liv and I both smiled as we watched Brooklyn crawl around the room. She had been crawling for almost a month and was getting faster and faster. Our entire house was currently wall to wall baby gates.

I have to admit that I cried the first time she crawled. Liv and I were lounging in the backyard with Brooke. She was doing what I liked to call the ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’ stance, bouncing as if she was a car that needed to gain momentum. As if something just finally clicked, she took off, her hands squishing the grass blades as she went. She headed right to me.

Now even though I would never tell Liv this, I have the feeling that if Brooke had to choose a favorite parent, she’d probably pick me. Part of me thought this was because I was such a sucker. As she grows up, she’s probably going to use her hold on me to her advantage. In fact, I probably should start a pony fund right now. Hmm…

Brooklyn crawled over to the baby gate at the bottom of the step. I turned around, hanging over the edge of the couch. Her fingers slipped through the slots of the gate.

“No, Brooke.”

She turned around, her eyes widening innocently as if saying ‘What? Me?’ She sat down quickly and stuck her fingers in her mouth.

I pretended to turn around, but in fact I was just counting off the seconds in my head. When I turned around her hand had slid back into the slots.

“Brooklyn, no.”

She looked at me, but she didn’t stop. She seemed to be conducting a test. Her fingers wrapped around the gate and she tugged. The gate didn’t budge. I got up and scooped her up. Her face twisted in frustration. Tossing her head back she began to cry.

“I think she’s probably just tired. It’s after eleven,” Liv said yawning. She stood up and rubbed her eyes. Brooklyn cries grew louder. I undid the baby gate and headed up the stairs. I stopped and waited for Liv. When she got to the landing, she kissed Brooklyn’s cheek and smoothed out her hair, softly whispering sweet goodnights. By the time I got to the nursery, Brooke’s little lip was quivering but she couldn’t seem to produce enough alligator tears to continue to look pitiful.

“Are you tired?” I said calmly. She placed her hands on my face. I laughed; she gave me an adoring smile.

I went through my nightly routine of laying her in the crib, turning on the mobile and saying goodnight to each of her little stuffed animals. Her eyes followed me as I went from animal to animal; her thumb went into her mouth and she sucked happily. The last thing I did was lean down and kiss her forehead. Usually by that time she was either fast asleep or well on her way. Tonight she fell asleep quickly.

I spent a few moments studying her little chest rise and fall. I was becoming spoiled with all of the time at home; the thought of leaving Liv and two babies twisted my stomach into knots.

Feeling slightly depressed, I finally headed to bed. Liv was already under the covers, her head buried into a huge pillow. I stripped down to my underwear and crawled in beside her.

“Sweet dreams,” I whispered. Liv lifted her head; I leaned over and kissed her softly.

“Night Nick,” she whispered. “I love you.”

I smiled. “I love you too.”

I rolled over on my back and stared up at the ceiling. I was the type of person who either crashed fast or had to play the waiting game. I already knew tonight was going to be one of those waiting game nights. After about a half hour I heard the familiar sound of Liv’s deep sleep breathing. I scratched my stomach. I pretended to count sheep. I thought about boobs.

Nothing was working.

Now I’m pretty sure Liv doesn’t know it, but sometimes when I can’t sleep I sneak out of bed and rot my brain in front of the TV with video games. I felt like tonight was going to be one of those nights. I slowly peeled off the comforter and slipped out of bed. After clearing my head and my bladder, I snuck down to the living room and powered on my laptop.

Some men wear themselves out by whacking off to internet porn. That doesn’t really work for me anymore. I’m definitely more of a “hands on” person. Instead I opt to train some newbs, hit some b.g.’s, and explore Silvermoon City. For those people out of the loop, all of these activities sum up to a couple hours of playing World of Warcraft.

To quote the infamous Geoffrey, I don’t want to grow up.

I will always be a Toys ‘R Us kid.