My Rock #8 (The Rock Star Romance Series - Book #8) by Alycia Taylor Page A
Authors: Alycia Taylor
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this someday. It’s
funny how a parent sees you so differently than you see yourself. I can only
hope that someday my kids will think that I was half the mother she has been to
me.
We drove up into the circular driveway and Tristan
pushed the remote for one of the garage doors. We each had a car now and
Tristan’s bike, so the three car garage wasn’t pushing it too much, I guess. We
had a lot, but I liked to believe that since we’d both been through so much in
our early days, we were still just regular people.
We left our helmets in the garage and let ourselves
into the side door through the kitchen. Brandi, our babysitter, was sitting at
the dining room table, surrounded by text books.
“Hey, guys! How’d it go?”
“My wife made the CD, it’ll sell billions now,”
Tristan told her.
“I bet,” she said with a smile.
“How are the babies?” I asked her.
I was suddenly craving them and almost disappointed
when she said, “Perfect. They’ve been asleep for an hour already. I checked on
them a little while ago and they had their little fingers together, holding
hands. It was so sweet I almost cried.”
“Aw, I love them!”
Brandi got up to gather her books and put them in
her backpack. She was studying to be a dentist. She lived with her parents in
the gated complex we lived in and she’d come highly recommended. To me, she was
a huge blessing. I hadn’t wanted to hire a nanny to live in the house and I
refused at first to leave them with anyone but family…my family, that is.
Tristan still hasn’t agreed to let his parents meet them. His dad has supposedly been out of rehab and clean for over a
year, and his mother for almost two, but he still had issues with them he needed
to resolve. I leave that part of his life alone. I can’t make that kind of
decision for him. They’d read in a magazine that I’d given birth to the babies
and started calling all the time. Tristan had all of our numbers changed and he
rarely trusts anyone enough to give out our address.
My mom comes and stays in town as often as she can.
She can’t get enough of her grand-babies, but eventually she had to go home and
we had to have a babysitter. I found out one day from a friend in the complex
that almost every family with kids had used Brandi at one time or another since
she was thirteen years old. She was the daughter of a movie producer mother and
a camera man father. No one had anything bad to say about her. She’d told me
she wanted nothing to do with show business. I can’t say that I blamed her. I
had a lot of respect for her though, growing up where she did and being
seemingly unaffected by the wealth and grandeur of everything around her. Her
parents did a great job. Most importantly though, she was
amazing with the kids.
I watched as
Tristan handed her two one hundred dollar bills. Her eyes went wide and she
said, “You really don’t have to pay me so much. I wasn’t here that long.”
“It’s worth it to us, Brandi; to have someone here
we can trust,” he told her. She didn’t argue with him, she’d tried before and
hadn’t gotten anywhere. He could definitely never be accused of being stingy
with his money.
She threw her backpack over her shoulder and said,
“Thank you.”
Tristan followed her out. Even though we live in one
of the best neighborhoods in Orange County and it’s constantly patrolled by
security, he insisted on making sure she made it to her house four doors down
from us every time she left after dark. While he did that, I went to see my
angels. I made my way down the long hallway to the nursery. The door was
cracked open and I could see their nightlight shining stars on the ceiling as I
pushed it open.
I tiptoed past the giant giraffe that Tristan insisted
on buying and the pile of Thomas the train cars and tracks over to the crib.
I’d read a lot of books when I found out I was having twins and most of them
said that the babies would sleep better at night together.
funny how a parent sees you so differently than you see yourself. I can only
hope that someday my kids will think that I was half the mother she has been to
me.
We drove up into the circular driveway and Tristan
pushed the remote for one of the garage doors. We each had a car now and
Tristan’s bike, so the three car garage wasn’t pushing it too much, I guess. We
had a lot, but I liked to believe that since we’d both been through so much in
our early days, we were still just regular people.
We left our helmets in the garage and let ourselves
into the side door through the kitchen. Brandi, our babysitter, was sitting at
the dining room table, surrounded by text books.
“Hey, guys! How’d it go?”
“My wife made the CD, it’ll sell billions now,”
Tristan told her.
“I bet,” she said with a smile.
“How are the babies?” I asked her.
I was suddenly craving them and almost disappointed
when she said, “Perfect. They’ve been asleep for an hour already. I checked on
them a little while ago and they had their little fingers together, holding
hands. It was so sweet I almost cried.”
“Aw, I love them!”
Brandi got up to gather her books and put them in
her backpack. She was studying to be a dentist. She lived with her parents in
the gated complex we lived in and she’d come highly recommended. To me, she was
a huge blessing. I hadn’t wanted to hire a nanny to live in the house and I
refused at first to leave them with anyone but family…my family, that is.
Tristan still hasn’t agreed to let his parents meet them. His dad has supposedly been out of rehab and clean for over a
year, and his mother for almost two, but he still had issues with them he needed
to resolve. I leave that part of his life alone. I can’t make that kind of
decision for him. They’d read in a magazine that I’d given birth to the babies
and started calling all the time. Tristan had all of our numbers changed and he
rarely trusts anyone enough to give out our address.
My mom comes and stays in town as often as she can.
She can’t get enough of her grand-babies, but eventually she had to go home and
we had to have a babysitter. I found out one day from a friend in the complex
that almost every family with kids had used Brandi at one time or another since
she was thirteen years old. She was the daughter of a movie producer mother and
a camera man father. No one had anything bad to say about her. She’d told me
she wanted nothing to do with show business. I can’t say that I blamed her. I
had a lot of respect for her though, growing up where she did and being
seemingly unaffected by the wealth and grandeur of everything around her. Her
parents did a great job. Most importantly though, she was
amazing with the kids.
I watched as
Tristan handed her two one hundred dollar bills. Her eyes went wide and she
said, “You really don’t have to pay me so much. I wasn’t here that long.”
“It’s worth it to us, Brandi; to have someone here
we can trust,” he told her. She didn’t argue with him, she’d tried before and
hadn’t gotten anywhere. He could definitely never be accused of being stingy
with his money.
She threw her backpack over her shoulder and said,
“Thank you.”
Tristan followed her out. Even though we live in one
of the best neighborhoods in Orange County and it’s constantly patrolled by
security, he insisted on making sure she made it to her house four doors down
from us every time she left after dark. While he did that, I went to see my
angels. I made my way down the long hallway to the nursery. The door was
cracked open and I could see their nightlight shining stars on the ceiling as I
pushed it open.
I tiptoed past the giant giraffe that Tristan insisted
on buying and the pile of Thomas the train cars and tracks over to the crib.
I’d read a lot of books when I found out I was having twins and most of them
said that the babies would sleep better at night together.
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