I'm recording the final track of my new album when my daughter decides to make her presence known with a series of kicks that make me laugh mid-chorus.
"Sorry," I say into the microphone, pressing a hand to my swollen belly. "Miss McKenna has opinions about that high note."
My producer's voice comes through the headphones, amused and patient. "Take your time. We can pick it up from the bridge."
I take a sip of water, adjusting my position at the microphone. Being eight months pregnant in a recording booth isn't ideal, but I was determined to finish this album before the baby arrives. My first full album recorded entirely in the mountain studio Finn built for me, nestled into the forest behind our cabin like it's always belonged there.
The thought still amazes me sometimes. That I have a husband who built me a state of the art recording studio soI wouldn't have to choose between my career and our life together. That I have a home on a mountain that once seemed impossibly remote and now feels like the only place I truly belong. That in less than a month, we'll welcome our daughter into this beautiful, imperfect world we've created together.
I try the chorus again, hitting the note that made little Fiona McKenna protest so vigorously. This time she stays quiet, apparently approving of my performance.
"That's the one," my producer says in my ear. "Perfect. We got it, Nova."
Relief washes through me. The album is done. Fourteen tracks that tell the story of the past two years. Of finding love in unexpected places. Of building a life that combines the best of both worlds. Of becoming more myself than I ever was under the bright lights of stardom.
Not that I've abandoned that world entirely. I still perform select shows, still walk red carpets occasionally, still maintain the career I've built since I was fifteen. But now it's on my terms. Balanced with the life I've chosen here, with Finn, with our growing family.
I leave the recording booth, thanking my small production team who have become something like extended family over the past two years. They'll return to Los Angeles tomorrow with the finished tracks, and I'll stay here, waiting for Fiona’s arrival, enjoying these last quiet weeks before our world changes again.
The afternoon sun is warm on my face as I walk the short path from the studio to our home. The cabin has grown over the past two years, expanding to accommodate our needs with an additional wing for guests, a larger kitchen where I've discovered an unexpected love of cooking, and a nursery painted in soft greens and yellows, waiting for its occupant.
I find Finn on the deck, rebuilding one of the railings that winter storms damaged. He works shirtless despite the earlysummer heat, his body as powerful and beautiful to me now as it was the first time I saw him chopping wood outside my window. As beautiful as it was that first night we made love, when he claimed me with a passion that still takes my breath away when I think about it.
He looks up as I approach, his face breaking into the smile that still makes my heart skip. "There's my girl. How was the recording?"
"Done," I announce proudly. "The album's finished."
He sets down his tools and moves to meet me, pulling me into his arms as much as my pregnant belly will allow. "Congratulations, superstar. I knew you'd make it happen."
"Even with your daughter using my diaphragm as a trampoline?" I laugh, guiding his hand to where Fiona is currently performing what feels like Olympic level gymnastics.
"Especially then." He kneels to press a kiss to my belly, his hand splayed protectively over the spot where our daughter kicks in response. "She's just making sure everyone knows she has her mama's musical talent."
"And her daddy's stubborn determination," I add, running my fingers through his hair. It's longer now than when we met, just brushing his collar in a way that makes him look slightly less intimidating and infinitely more attractive to me.
He looks up at me, and the love in his eyes still takes my breath away after all this time. "How are you feeling? Need to rest?"
"I'm good." I tug him back to his feet. "But I wouldn't say no to sitting on the deck with my husband for a while. Watch the sunset. Enjoy the quiet before our lives are taken over by a tiny dictator."
"I think that can be arranged." He leads me to the cushioned outdoor sofa that has become my favorite spot for watching the mountains change through the seasons. "Tea?"
"Please."
He disappears inside, and I settle myself as comfortably as possible, which is no small feat at eight months pregnant. The view never fails to center me, to remind me how far I've come from the terrified woman who fled Los Angeles two years ago with a stalker on her heels and no idea that she was running straight toward the rest of her life.
Finn returns with tea for me and coffee for himself, settling beside me with the easy intimacy we've built day by day. His hand finds mine automatically, our fingers intertwining in a gesture so familiar it feels like an extension of breathing.
"Cade called while you were recording," he says. "Harper's organized a baby shower for next weekend. The entire McKenna clan will be descending on us, apparently."
I groan dramatically, but there's no real complaint behind it. "Your family does know how to take over an event."
"You love it," he teases, pressing a kiss to my temple.
"I do," I admit easily. The McKennas have become my family in every way that matters, filling the gaps left by my own distant mother and absent father with a warmth and acceptance I never expected to find. "Though I'm not sure we need any more baby things. The nursery is already overflowing."
"Try telling that to a bunch of McKenna women on a mission."
I laugh, knowing he's right. My sisters-in-law have embraced impending motherhood with the same fierce enthusiasm they bring to everything. Especially Harper, who treats every family celebration like a personal challenge to outdo the last one.
