DECEMBER 14th, 1997, LOS ANGELES, CA
"YOU'RE COMING HERE for Christmas, right?" Kate demanded over the phone, a threat plainly wavering in her voice. Reagan balanced the receiver between her shoulder and ear as she walked downstairs from Gracie's room, having just to put her to sleep. She was carrying an embarrassingly-full laundry basket in her hands and trying not to tumble over headfirst.
"We'll be there on the twenty-sixth," Reagan said. "Dave's mom is coming into town, remember? He's going to hang back in L.A. with her, but Gracie and I are flying up."
"Good. You need to meet Christopher." Kate was referencing her new boyfriend that she'd met in one of her classes. He was studying law as well, but Reagan could have guessed that just by the way Kate said his name. Her use of 'Christopher' rather than the more-relaxed 'Chris' had led to plenty of irresistible teasing from Reagan.
"Robbie and the twins know we're coming, right?"
"Yep. Everyone's excited. I think even Mom is looking forward to it."
"Only because of Gracie. It has nothing to do with me, of course."
"I'm not going to deny that. She still hasn't forgiven you for moving to California."
Reagan edged her way into the laundry room, setting the basket down on the dryer and scorning the thought of Kimberly's persistent habit of being unbearable. She re-positioned the phone to her other ear.
"I couldn't give a shit about Mom's attitude," she declared. "She's not going to ruin Christmas, not with Gracie there."
"Yeah?" Kate asked. "You're happy to come home?"
"Absolutely. I can't wait."
"Mhm. And has the morning sickness started yet?"
Reagan dropped the t-shirt she'd been about to lob into the washing machine in shock. It fluttered to the floor as she stood frozen, her hands still hanging in the air.
"What?" she spluttered. "How the fuck do you know?"
Kate's sudden gasp whistled directly through the receiver. "Wait, I guessed correctly?!"
"Guessed?" Reagan cried, floundering in the surprise of being called out on her pregnancy when no one was supposed to know.
"Oh my god!" Kate shrieked. "You're pregnant!"
"How did you even . . . how come you asked me that?" Reagan asked, feeling like she'd been hit in the face with a sucker punch. A million explanations filed through her brain — had Dave let it slip after, for some unexplainable reason, contacting Kate? Had she let it slip on accident in another phone call?
Was the fucking house bugged?
There had been no reason for Kate to assume, or even guess, that she was pregnant. Reagan had been waiting to tell her sister, as well as anyone else, until more time had passed, following the solicited advice of her doctor. Not since she'd been pregnant with Gracie had Kate even brought up the subject of pregnancy.
"You've been so happy," Kate babbled excitedly. "Every time I've called, you've just sounded like a completely different person. I didn't actually know if you were pregnant, I was just guessing because of the way you've been acting, but ohmygod. I was right!"
"Surprise," Reagan said weakly. She'd really wanted to tell Kate in person, but it was admittedly nice having someone other than Dave to gush over the new baby with. It was even nicer that it was Kate.
"Does his mom know?" Kate asked, launching into what was surely a never ending list of questions.
"No one does, Kate. We're waiting to tell everyone."
"But I know now."
"Yes, but you seriously can't tell anyone else. Dave and I are going to do that."
"How about Gracie? Does she know?"
"No, not even Gracie knows yet."
"I'm friggin' psychic," Kate said proudly. "I know you too well, Reags."
"I shouldn't be surprised that you'd actually guess it before I got to tell you," Reagan said with grudging admiration. Leave it to Kate to ruin any surprise. She didn't know Reagan too well, she was just too damn perceptive for her own good
"This is amazing. I can't believe it. Well, I can, but god, I didn't expect it any time soon. I'm going to be an aunt again," Kate prattled. Reagan returned her attention to the laundry, filling up the machine as she allowed Kate her moment to celebrate a second round of aunthood.
"I seriously thought you weren't going to have another baby," Kate said.
"How come?" Reagan asked, cinching her eyebrows as she tossed a pair of Gracie's shorts in the wash. "You knew that Dave and I wanted more kids."
"Yeah, but his schedule has been overbooked since nineteen-ninety-five. I thought you'd wait until things cooled off with the Foo Fighters."
"That wasn't about to happen any time soon. He's making the choice himself to step back for a bit once the baby comes. He's going to take a break."
"Wow," Kate said, sounding thoroughly stunned. "I didn't know the word 'break' was in his vocabulary."
"Me neither," Reagan confessed. "He's pretty serious about it, though. He wants to focus on Gracie and the baby."
Kate continued talking her ear off until Reagan was finished loading the washer machine. She asked about potential names, which Reagan said she wasn't certain of yet, and she theorized about the baby's sex. Reagan happily played along, feeling like she deserved a moment to rave about her pregnancy after keeping it under wraps for the last seven weeks.
"Ugh. This is the best news I've gotten in forever," Kate said, sighing contentedly. "It's so happy. I'm so happy. Are you so happy?"
Reagan laughed at her sister, half-pressed to believe that Kate had reverted back to her sixteen-year-old self. She took her free hand and touched it lightly to her abdomen, not even realizing that she was doing so until she was gripping the fabric of her shirt.
"Yes," she said. "I really am so happy."
________________
The washing machine buzzer had gone off hours ago, but Reagan ignored it. It had stirred her out from a dead sleep on the couch at first, but she'd chosen to slip back into unconsciousness. She was tired — she'd been roused out of bed early that morning, starting to feel the return of the living hell that was morning sickness. She was so tired that she'd fallen asleep on the couch, swaddled in a blanket as she'd channel surfed.
She didn't even hear the sound of keys scraping in the front door's lock. She didn't hear it when the door opened and a duffle bag was dropped in the entryway, followed by the sound of footsteps. Reagan was knocked out, one arm draped limply over her face.
She did feel it though when the couch cushions shifted, sinking with the addition of someone else's weight. She felt it when a hand caressed her hip down to her knee over the blanket, and she felt it when someone laid themselves lightly on top of her.
She opened her eyes blearily, turning her head and pulling her arm away. In the blue light of the television, she made out Dave's face looking down at her. There was the start of a beard growing patchily on his chin and around his cheeks and his breath was warm as he inclined his head to kiss her.
"Hi," he whispered.
"Dave," Reagan mumbled tiredly, stretching her arms back over her head and squinting her eyes. And then realization hit her.
"Dave!" she cried, shooting upright so quickly that her forehead connected to his with a loud smack. She clapped a hand to her head and watched Dave do the same, wincing, but the pain was hardly of any concern.
"You're back!" she exclaimed, throwing herself into his lap.
"Yeah, we just got back into L.A.," he said, running his palm down Reagan's hair with a throaty chuckle. "Did you forget?"
"No, I fell asleep while I was waiting up for you. My morning was spent over the toilet bowl and that took a lot out of me."
"Shit. I'm sorry babe. But hey, I'm back now. I'm here for all your hair-holding-over-the-toilet needs."
Reagan giggled, kissing him enthusiastically until she had to catch her breath. It was the first time that she'd seen him since October and the first time she'd seen him while she was pregnant.
As if he'd somehow unlocked her thoughts, she felt Dave's hand go to her stomach, flattening against it.
"Peanut Two-Point-Oh's been giving you trouble?" he asked.
"Just a tad."
Reagan situated herself back down on the couch, a throw pillow snugly behind her head, and Dave sat by her legs as he smiled down at her. He kept his hand fixed over her stomach.
"You know that this is the first time the baby's heard my voice?" he asked.
"The baby is the size of a blueberry," she reasoned. "I'm not sure you have to worry about that yet."
"There's no harm in getting a head start."
He leaned over her until his cheek was pressed between her hips, like he was listening for suspect sounds coming from her womb. "I'm not going to lie. I kinda' hope it's a boy."
"You've got a fifty-fifty shot of getting your wish," Reagan answered, pulling her fingers through his shaggy hair.
"Ah, you know I really don't care at the end of the day. I'm just reflecting on my incredibly keen sense of intuition."
"Which is telling you that it's a boy?"
"Definitely a boy."
"We'll know for sure around July fifteenth," she murmured with a smile.
"Due date?" he asked excitedly, his head popping up.
"My doctor told me a few days ago."
Dave sat up and took Reagan's legs into his lap, massaging his hands down to her ankles and back up to her thighs.
"I'll mark it on every calendar," he said.
She looked at him apprehensively, wanting to ask him the question that had been consuming her since she'd first found out she was pregnant. Her only hesitation came from not wanting to hear an answer that would upset her.
She started off slowly, leading with a warm-up inquiry that was harmless enough.
"Do the guys know?" she asked, thinking about the rest of the Foos. While no one else in their lives was supposed to know about the baby, there was a specific reason why she was curious to hear whether or not Dave's bandmates had been made aware before anyone else.
"Yeah. Yeah, they know," he said carefully, rubbing a circle around Reagan's ankle. "They knew when I found out. It was kind of hard to hide."
"Are they . . . happy for you?" she probed clumsily. There was no 'good' way to pick his brain about the subject she was broaching. If she'd been braver, she would have simply asked him, hey, you're still taking that hiatus away from your career for me, your daughter and your new baby, right? Or were you blowing smoke up my ass?
"Well," Dave began evenly, "they were surprised."
"That doesn't sound good."
"They're just coming to terms with what's about to happen. That's all."
Reagan gulped, feeling way younger than her twenty-eight years. She felt like she was a kid asking her parents for permission that she knew wouldn't be granted. "You told them you were going to take a break?"
"We discussed it," he said.
"And they were pissed?"
"Pissed is a strong word," he replied, swiftly able to answer her without actually addressing her questions.
"Dave," she hedged. As badly as she wanted the security of knowing that he'd soon be around again, she was still questioning her morals. It would have been hard to accept if he'd changed his mind, if he still wanted to primarily focus on the Foo Fighters, but she would accept it. She would have done it for him.
"They understand, babe. It's my band. What are they going to do, kick me out?"
"No, but they could quit."
Dave chuckled, shaking his head. "No one is going to quit over a break. I'm bringing another kid into the world. I think my terms and conditions were fair."
"So . . . when the baby gets here . . ."
"We'll be together."
Those three words were a precious gift. Reagan felt calmer, reassured that nothing had changed since Dave's initial proposition that they had another baby. He still meant what he'd said. They would be a family.
"You know I don't expect you to quit forever, right?" she asked softly.
"I never thought that," Dave said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
"I might need you around here for a bit, but I'd never let you give it all up."
Reagan had pledged to him so many times before that she would love him regardless, whether he was a rockstar or an average neighborhood dad sweating over a grill on the weekends. He could even be both, if he wanted. He was a great dad in her opinion, the world's very best, and that title was deserved even in the midst of the touring, the talk shows, the time spent at recording studios, the endless meetings and music videos to film. The painful way that she missed him throughout it all had nothing to do with how wonderful of a parent and person he was.
"You say that so often that I'm starting to think that you're trying to convince yourself of something," Dave said gently. He looked down at her legs, absentmindedly tracing invisible patterns on them.
"No," Reagan whispered. "I'm only trying to convince you that I'd never control your life."
"You don't have to convince me. I've always known that. And I know you'd leave before you ever asked me to quit. And I know you know that I'd give it all up before I let you walk away."
"I can't walk away from you. Ever."
Just the very idea filled with her dread.
"I know." Dave nodded to himself, sitting silently for several passing moments before he stood. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed."
"I don't feel like sleeping anymore," Reagan admitted.
"Why? Because I'm here?" He grinned knowingly and she sat up, shoulder to shoulder with him.
"That's exactly why."
Dave fulfilled the request, tucking Reagan into his chest and lowering them both back to the couch. She laid her head over the spot where his heartbeat thudded the last, listening to it as a reminder that he was real. He was made up of flesh and bones and the soul contained within all that loved her, had chosen her after enduring seven years together.
She let him do most of the talking, telling her silly stories from on the road, singing Taylor's praises, filling her in on his last phone conversation with Jenny. He talked about his fans, marveling that he had any at all, and told her that anecdotes from moments in which he'd met them over the last several weeks. He talked about his favorite cities that he'd stopped in, specific things that had made him think of her and Gracie, and the terrifying moment a week prior when he'd almost fallen off stage.
The entire time, Reagan stayed wide awake, listening and giggling at some of the funnier parts. She stayed silent, clinging to the arm he had wrapped around her.
Even though it was sometimes all she thought about, it was also easy to forget just exactly who Dave was. Not in the personal way that she knew him, but the way the world saw him. It was difficult to view him through the lens of a fan, or someone watching him on television. To her, he was just Dave. The Dave who wore a special apron whenever he cooked, couldn't decide on the length of his hair, still got homesick for Virginia and majority of the time, had the energy of a hyperactive child.
Seven years had passed since she'd met him and now, the world had claimed it's slice of ownership over him, but that still didn't erase the fact that he was hers. A part of him would always be hers.