Emily's POV
"Emily. Emily? Emily!"
"Huh?" I asked. Austin was waving his hand in front of my face, so I grabbed it to stop him. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to wake you up. You like, zoned out completely for a minute there. You alright?"
"I'm fine, just saying Dallas's name reminded me of that day in the park." I explained.
"I remember that. What a donkey." Austin seethed, rolling over to lean on his elbow, his head in his hand. "I still hate him for what he did to you."
I shrugged. "It's in the past. It's done. Besides, I've got you now."
"And doesn't that just make you so happy?" Austin grinned.
I pretended to think about it for a second, and then shrugged. "Meh."
"Excuse me?!"
"I'm kidding!" I laughed, earning a small shove on the shoulder from Austin. "Of course it does."
"So Dallas is definitely not an option for names. Or middle names." He said. "Ever. Like, even if I was dead. Even if Dallas never existed in the first place."
"You wouldn't have even known him, then."
"I know. But I do know him, and that's just how much I loathe him." He told me.
I nodded slowly. "That didn't really make sense, but I get it." I shut the baby book. "Well, we can start this later again. We should probably work on the song for your concert. It's already in two weeks."
"Kay." Austin said, sliding off the bed.
I moved my knee, and Pancakes jumped up, shaking her head. "Sorry, girl, the pillows are your bed for right now."
She looked at me and sniffed before walking over and flopping down on the pillows. Well, she can't sleep on my knee forever. I don't see how she even finds it comfortable in the first place.
I grabbed my songbook, and Austin and I headed downstairs to the piano. "We have to perfect this." Austin said. "So we can't screw up."
"No pressure." I said sarcastically, causing Austin to grin.
We worked on the song for a while, and still hadn't thought of a bridge. "Ugh, why is the bridge so hard to think of for this song?" I exclaimed.
"Maybe we should take a break." Austin suggested. "We've been working for three hours."
"No, we need to figure this out before we take any breaks." I insisted, playing a few notes. Austin reached over and grabbed my hands to stop them from gliding across the pristine keys.
"Emily, you look exhausted. Take a break." he said.
"But-"
"No buts." He said firmly. "Come on." He stood up and pulled me up from the bench. "Go lie down for a bit. I'll try and think of something for the bridge."
I looked at him doubtfully and he nudged me towards the stairs. "I'm not completely hopeless anymore when it comes to writing songs."
"Just three quarters hopeless?" I asked.
"Pretty much, but hey, there's one quarter of hope!" He said.
I shook my head. "Well, good luck." I headed upstairs and crawled into bed.
A few minutes later, I could hear Austin singing "and this song is really hard to write a bridge for, why is that? Why, why, why! Oooh why!"
"Your daddy is hopeless," I whispered to the baby. "Hopeless." But I smiled nonetheless.