Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“Not yet. You’re also not allowed to step a single toe into that water without Mommy or Daddy being there to say yes and hold your hand, okay? Not even a toe, Ky.”
“But I can put in dis lake shoe?” Kyrie asks innocently. He lifts up one of his tiny feet, clad in a bright green rubber shoe, and Kendrick and I both burst out laughing at his adorableness.
Thank goodness for those “lake shoes,” or who knows how today might have gone for all of us. Also, for the “beach shoes” that came before them to lead the way—the ones that had to be replaced right before we made this trip. If we hadn’t figured out Kyrie’s sensory tantrums and shrieks of “no!” and “icky!,” every time we went to the beach at Savage and Laila’s house were caused by our boy freaking out over the sensation of sand between his tiny toes, we might not have made this trip today out of sheer embarrassment.
All’s well that ends well, though. Once we figured it all out and got our sensory king his first pair of “beach shoes” for our next day with Uncle Savage, Auntie Laila, and Valentina, the kid spent half the day blissfully making sandcastles with his honorary big sister, while the rest of us sat nearby in beach chairs, chatting happily. Apparently, it’s only Kyrie’s toes and soles that react badly to sand. The rest of his body parts don’t mind getting a granular massage. In fact, after that first successful visit with those “beach shoes” on his feet, Kyrie ended the happy, exhausting day covered in sand—everywhere except his mercifully protected feet.
“No, buddy,” Kendrick explains, laughing at our son’s misunderstanding. “You can’t put anything into the lake at all. Not even your lake shoes. But don’t worry, Mommy and I will be sitting right there, right next to you with all our friends, so if you want to go into the lake, one of us will be there to take you.”
“That would be Daddy,” I murmur. “He’ll be the one to take you.”
Kendrick laughs. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Good, because you’re definitely taking him.”
Laughing, Kendrick gestures to a large group sitting in beach chairs next to where the boys and Valentina are blissfully playing in the sand: Savage and Laila, Fish and Ally, Colin and Amy, Violet and Dax, Miranda and whoever she’s currently dating. They never last, so we don’t bother getting to know them too well. And on and on.
I scan and locate Kai and Titus nearby, too, talking in another group that includes Aloha Carmichael and her adorable husband, Zander.
Kendrick nudges my arm. “Aloha’s here.”
“I just noticed that. I didn’t know she was coming.”
Kendrick grins. “Maybe you two will get some inspiration while you’re here for your next big hit. A country tune called ‘Under the Big Montana Sky,’ perhaps?”
I laugh—partly because writing a country song isn’t on the menu for me, for one thing. Especially not for a popstar like Aloha Carmichael. But mostly because I can’t believe this is my life. Being married to the love of my life and having the cutest little boy with him, with a baby girl on the way, is enough good fortune for ten lifetimes. But professionally speaking, I’ve also hit the jackpot these past five years; in fact, I’ve never felt happier or more fulfilled in my career.
Fugitive Summer is still going as strong as ever, though our touring schedule has morphed and slowed down quite a bit since our early days. Once Valentina, and then Kyrie, came along, we all put the kids first. We’re a family, after all. And we all love those two like our own.
In addition to all the fun stuff I still get to do with Fugitive Summer, however, my songwriting career has really taken off over the past few years. Especially since Aloha invited me to write with her about four years ago. It happened right after Kendrick and I got back from our honeymoon, and I practically crapped my pants when her personal text landed on my phone. The woman’s been my idol since middle school, since the days when I’d watch her Disney show, It’s Aloha!, so, honestly, her invitation to write with her felt even bigger to me than my own band’s Grammy win.
Thankfully, the song I wound up creating with Aloha became one of her biggest hits, ever. Almost as big as “Pretty Girl,” which, let’s face it, is impossible to beat. It’s a once-in-a-generation song. And after that, Aloha and I continued writing together several more times, always to fantastic success—and even better, we became close friends along the way.
Sure, I would have probably become friends with Aloha regardless, since she’s close friends with all my close friends. But I think, if it hadn’t been for our writing sessions together, I would have always been “Laila’s close friend, Ruby” to her. Rather than “my close friend, Ruby,” as I’ve become.