Eighteen

 

Baby Names and Back Up Plans

 

Cliff was already waiting at the curb when they stepped out of the building, the car idling behind him. He stood by the open door, one arm slung casually across the top. Ari gave him a small nod as she and Jon slid into the back seat, her fingers slipping from his so they could get in easily.

 

Ari’s phone buzzed with a message from Max, asking about details for Jesse’s birthday party on Sunday. Instead of calling, she fired off a quick reply, letting him know she was on her way.

 

“I need to stop by Petit Soho before we head to the arena,” she said as they pulled into traffic.

 

“Everything okay?” Jon asked.

 

“Yes. Max wanted to go over some things for Sunday, and I figured we could grab a quiet lunch before all the fun starts. Might be the only calm moment we get.”

 

“Smart thinking.” He took her hand. “Cliff, you heard the boss—Petit Soho it is.”

 

Petit Soho was already buzzing when they arrived—a typical Friday lunch crowd, scattered laughter, clinking glasses, and the hum of conversation rising over the jukebox. Cliff peeled off toward the bar to grab a quick bite, slipping into his usual corner seat with a nod to one of the bartenders.

 

Jon gave her hand a light squeeze. “I’ll grab us a table,” he said, already scanning the room. “I’ll check on the gang’s ETA too, see if Gunnar made it to the arena with Steph and Lily.”

 

She offered him a grateful smile and slipped toward the back, disappearing behind the swinging doors to the office. Max was already waiting, half-distracted with a clipboard and a long to-do list running through his head. They walked through the final notes for Sunday’s party: the bar would be closed to the public until dinner, but everything else was set. Gabriel had the food locked down—burgers, wings, sandwiches, popcorn, candy, birthday cake, and enough ice cream to start a small war among the kids. The karaoke setup had been tested twice.

 

Satisfied, Ari rejoined Jon at a quite two-top near the front window, tucked slightly out of the way. Lunch was easy—comfortable conversation over shared fries, a rare calm before the inevitable chaos of family, parties, and everything in between. By the time they stood to leave for the arena, the hum of the restaurant had faded into the background, and for just a moment, it felt like the world had slowed down—for now.

 

By the time they reached the Bell Centre, the place was already alive. Staff crisscrossed the backstage hallways, radios crackling. Craft services buzzed with familiar faces.

 

Romeo was darting between tables, half-covered in donut powder, while Jake held Lily in his lap, making silly faces at her. Matt leaned against the table, chatting with Steph and his parents.

 

“Hey,” Jon called out as they approached.

 

“Ari! Ari!” Romeo came running, face flushed with excitement. “Where’s Meatball?”

 

Ari smiled, crouching to meet his eyes. “He’s back at the loft.”

 

“The loft?” Romeo asked, puzzled.

 

“Yep. We figured you’d rather stay there than in some boring hotel.”

 

Romeo’s whole face lit up. “Yes!” He pumped his fist in the air. “Oh, hi, Dad,” he added over his shoulder before bouncing back toward the snack tables.

 

Jon’s parents stood as Ari approached, their smiles warm and welcoming.

 

“Ari, sweetheart,” Carol said, pulling her into a quick hug. “You look tired—but in a good way. How did everything go today?”

 

“Good. Now we wait,” Ari said simply, with a small smile.

 

“Hey, Pop-pop, ask Dad what he wants to name the baby,” Stephanie said to her grandfather, mischief in her eyes.

 

“You know what you’re having?” he asked, turning back to Ari and Jon.

 

“No. But your son thinks he does.”

 

“Diesel,” Steph called out. “He wants to name him Diesel.”

 

“Good Lord, Jon.” Carol shook her head as she returned to her seat. “You cannot name my grandchild after petroleum oil.”

 

“That’s what we said,” Steph and Ari replied in unison.

 

“Why don’t we hold off on names until we know what we’re having,” Ari muttered.

 

“Did someone mention baby names?” Lema appeared at the door with Richie.

 

“Y’know, Richard is a great name,” Richie offered, grinning.

 

Lema biffed him in the back of the head. “That’s a horrible name for a baby.”

 

“Okay, fine. What would you name him, then?”

 

Lema crossed his arms, pretending to think seriously. “Amadeus.”

 

Ari snorted. “Please stop.”

 

“Oh, come on. Amadeus Bongiovi! That kid would never get picked last for anything.”

 

“Except therapy appointments,” Jon muttered.

 

Richie laughed. “Honestly? I kinda like it.”

 

“You would,” Steph said.

 

The radio crackled to life. “If you losers are done, we’re ready for soundcheck,” Obie’s voice came over the line.

 

Jon leaned in to give Ari a quick kiss. “No funny stuff tonight.” He winked.

 

“Promise.”

 

As the guys headed toward the stage, Carol clapped her hands lightly. “Alright, who’s coming with us to the playroom?”

 

Romeo and Lily both perked up. Lily giggled as Jake stood, and Romeo grabbed a bag of chips for the road. Ari watched them go with a smile, then sank into one of the now-empty chairs next to Desiree.

 

“Are your kids here?” she asked.

 

“No. Rocco was a little cranky, so I left them with my mom.”

 

“Poor thing. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

 

“Nah, he’s cutting his molars.”

 

“Ah, not fun. I think Lily’s working on her bottom ones.”

 

“Rub a little whiskey on her gums—it works better than any gel out there. My mom did it with all of us.”

 

Ari laughed. “Carol told me the exact same thing.”

 

“Old school mamas—they have all the tricks.” Desiree reached for her water. “How have you been, really?”

 

“I’m good. Well, now that the damn PICC line is gone. Eating more every day. I’m not rushing it—don’t want to jinx anything.”

 

“I bet. Despite all you’ve been through, you look great.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I’m serious. I wish I looked as good as you do when I was pregnant.”

 

“I’m sure you did. You might not have felt it—sometimes I don’t either.”

 

“Agree to disagree.” Desiree’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. “Wanna go check on the chaos?” she asked, standing.

 

“Sure,” Ari said, pushing herself up carefully. “Then we can hang in Jon’s dressing room.”

 

They wandered out to check on the grown-ups and kids, eventually ending up in Jon’s dressing room. Ari could hear the band starting to run through the first chords of the setlist—the faint thump of the bass and scattered guitar seeping through the walls. The rhythm was uneven, occasionally punctuated by feedback or a frustrated shout from the crew. Every few minutes, Ari had to fight the urge to reply to Kennedy’s voice on the radio or get up to fix something.

 

But she promised Jon she’d stay put tonight.

 

Doctor’s orders: No stress, no standing too long, and definitely no working for at least twenty-four hours.

 

She could do that.

 

Probably.

 

Desiree sat in the oversized chair, scrolling through her phone with one leg tucked under her, oblivious to Ari’s internal struggle. A text pinged, and she grinned at her sister-in-law.

 

“I think I found your nanny.”

 

“Really?” Ari looked up from her laptop.

 

“Yup. My mom’s best friend’s sister is having a full-blown existential crisis.”

 

“Uh, not sure I want a nanny with baggage.”

 

“No baggage, I swear. She’s in her mid-fifties, both kids out of the house, and last year her husband decided he needed to ‘find himself’ in Tulum with his twenty-something receptionist.”

 

“Wow. That’s—”

 

“A lot, I know. But she has her life together. She owns the yoga studio in Shrewsbury Plaza, got a decent divorce settlement, and now she wants something that doesn’t involve Lululemon and downward dog.”

 

Ari laughed, shaking her head. “And you told her exactly what she’d be doing? On the road, a different city every day, living out of hotels, wrangling a baby, a dog, and occasionally four other children?”

 

“Sure did. She’s very interested.”

 

“And you know this woman?”

 

“Yes. My mom and her sister have been best friends since high school. She’s been to plenty of family stuff—holidays, birthdays, all that.”

 

Ari leaned her head back, thinking. Outside, the guitar riff started over for the third time, followed by an audible groan through the monitors.

 

Sighing, she rubbed her temples. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s killing you, isn’t it? Not being out there.”

 

“That obvious?”

 

Desiree laughed. “Yeah. I saw you twitch during the bridge.”

 

“I promised Jon I’d stay put. I bet Cliff is even lingering in the hall, waiting to see if I try to sneak out.”

 

“So, should I set up a meeting between you and Gloria when you’re back in New Jersey?”

 

“Let me think about it.”

 

The door creaked open, and Jon stepped inside, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, phone in hand.

 

“Think about what?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” Ari said quickly.

 

“Hmm. Yeah, if you say so.” He crossed the room and sat beside her on the couch.

 

“Why aren’t you at soundcheck?”

 

“It’s over. That’s Richie working with his tech on a new guitar. Where are the rest of the gremlins?”

 

“Last we checked, your parents had them all in the game room Jeanie set up in the visitors’ locker room.”

 

“How’d she pull that off?”

 

“The Moretti name holds a lot of clout in this arena.”

 

“There you go bragging again.”

 

Desiree stood and stretched. “Alright, I’m going to go find Matt before the show starts.”

 

“Good luck,” Jon called after her.

 

Ari leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder as the hallway noise faded.

 

She didn’t need to fix anything right now. She just needed this.