'Tomorrow,' Chloe discovered, wasn't as soon or as tomorrow-y as her onset of baby fever wanted it to be.
She did start researching their options the next day, spending a good hour setting up Excel spreadsheets to track everything from timeframes to costs.
But she fell into a spiral of fertility research and everything that came with a decision to do in vitro fertilization.
It wasn't just her that would be spending time in front of doctors, she realized. It wasn't that she was ignorant to how this had to work. She just didn't...think about it.
There had to be tests.
So many tests. On both of them.
Beca would have to undergo hormone treatments. And the whole...harvesting procedure wasn't going to be terribly pleasant for her.
She read blogs. She watched videos. She pulled Beca in to watch sometimes, and Beca barely made it through the birthing video Chloe pulled up on YouTube without passing out.
"Oh my God, Chlo. You seriously want to go through this?" she asked, watching with one eye open.
"I think it's beautiful," she answered, pulling Beca in to let her hide in her arms.
"This is horrifying," Beca said, blanching and looking away from the screen. "Is it over yet?"
The crying baby signaled that it was indeed over, and Chloe surreptitiously brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. "It's over."
"Oh thank God," Beca said, tension flooding out of her frame to lean heavily on Chloe. "You…are insane. Women are insane."
Chloe gestured at her computer screen. "I think we're pretty awesome, that we can do that."
"Well before you can do that, we need to figure out how we're going to make that happen. Have you talked to Chris yet?"
Chloe sighed, rubbing her hand over her eyes. She'd been procrastinating talking to her brother about being their sperm donor - not out of fear he'd say no, but just that it was kind of an awkward and intensely personal conversation to have, especially over the phone or even Skype. "No. I don't know how to ask him. It's a weird thing to ask."
"What, you don't want to ask your brother to masturbate into a cup for us?"
Chloe shoved a laughing Beca out of her arms. "Gross."
"He has the easiest job of all of us in this situation! It's actually enjoyable."
"Please stop talking about it," Chloe laughed, still grimacing from the mental images Beca had conjured. "I just...I think I should ask him in person. And I have no idea when I'm going home next."
"You're on summer vacation, Chlo. Just go."
"'Just go'? Beca, I'm not going to just go. And certainly not without you."
"Okay, well, why don't we go for your birthday?"
Chloe would have done a spit take if she'd been drinking something. "You wanna go visit my family?"
Beca shook her head at her. "Why wouldn't I? They're my family now, too. And besides - I dragged you to my insane family. I owe you."
Chloe squealed and launched herself at Beca, hugging her tightly. "We can really go? You aren't busy?"
"Sure we can go. And no, I won't be busy. I mean, it's your birthday. I always block that weekend off my calendar."
Chloe let herself squeal again and pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to Beca's neck before sitting back. "Thank you."
The one thing that did happen 'tomorrow' was the release of Beca's statement to the press on their recent marriage.
Chloe didn't think much of it: such a to-do over, well, not over nothing of course, but over something that shouldn't be of anyone's concern but theirs and that of the people in their life.
But there it was, the lead story on People when she made her morning gossip rag rounds.
She was a headline. Kind of.
MUSIC PRODUCER BECA MITCHELL MARRIES GIRLFRIEND (EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS)
The thumbnail image was a press photo from Beca's appearance on "Seth Meyers" when she flashed Chloe's class ring and announced their engagement.
She wondered what exclusive photos they had, and how.
It was as exciting as it was icky. Because like...it's her life. Their life. Why are the people browsing this site - the people just like her - entitled to the information? Suddenly she felt guilty for ever thriving on celebrity gossip. The icky was outweighing the excitement.
Of course she had to click on it.
The lead photo was, at least, Chloe's favorite from the courthouse-provided photographer, the picture they'd jointly chosen to share on Facebook when they announced it to their friends and families, and, she assumed, what Beca gave them to release.
Multi-platinum selling record producer Beca Mitchell, the industry newcomer behind the reinvented sound of Katy Perry's "Evolve" (Capitol Records), announced today that she wed her partner, Chloe Beale, in a private ceremony in Los Angeles on May 27, 2016. Mitchell previously announced the couple's engagement during a promotional appearance on "Late Night with Seth Meyers."
Confirmation of their recent marriage comes following weeks of speculation generated by social media.
Mitchell met Ms. Beale at Barden University where they performed together in the a cappella group, The Barden Bellas. The pair co-captained the team to three national titles and are the reigning a cappella world champions. Ms. Beale is an elementary school teacher in Los Angeles.
In a statement to the press, Mitchell said, "I'm thrilled to have married my best friend. Chloe makes me a better person. We are excited to embark on the next stage of our lives together."
Chloe paused, smiling at Beca's comment. She felt like Beca made her a better person, too.
Mitchell's statement indicated she will continue to produce under her maiden name, but court records obtained by People reflect Mitchell legally changed her surname to Beale. The pair honeymooned 'Down Under' with a trip to New Zealand and Australia.
The newlyweds ask that in lieu of any gifts, donations be made to The Trevor Project.
The article was followed by a gallery slideshow, most of them photos from their ceremony. Apparently the photos were available to anyone who asked the court, and Chloe admonished herself for not reading the fine print. There might have been a way to keep them private. She kept clicking, through five photos from their wedding, through two she'd posted on her Instagram: one a selfie they took together at the top of a ski run.
The other she was truly upset they used; it a photo she took of Beca in bed, still in New Zealand, when they'd been acting silly after a few glasses of wine and Chloe had Beca pinned as she sat across her hips forcing her to submit to a photo shoot. Chloe had caught a moment that made her heart flip when she saw it on her phone's screen, of Beca's hand over her eyes, mouth open in obvious laughter, gleaming wedding band creating a perfect and unintentional lens flare. She'd filtered it to Inkwell and shared it on Instagram, not thinking of anything other than wanting to share the glee of it with her friends.
And now that photo was ripped and stolen and in a slideshow she didn't make for all the world to see.
She had decided not to privatize her Instagram last week, seeing as the "damage" had already been done and there was no taking back what was put out to the cyber world. She promised Beca she would be careful.
Now she understood why she needed to be.
At least they credited her Instagram account? She groaned and picked up her phone, opening the app to see more notifications pop up in the orange bubble than she'd ever seen in her life. Thousands of hearts. Thousands of comments. Thousands of new followers. She was tagged in hundreds of photos, all repostings of her own photos which really incensed her.
There was a time, almost exactly a year ago, when she was lost and quite literally spent her days and nights trying to win over the affections of strangers on the Internet - partly due to Beca's absence but mostly to do with her own battle with self-doubt and struggle with change, with her binge-watching and live-blogging of reality TV, when she would have flipped to see her Internet following explode like this.
That time was long gone, and she felt like she'd just opened the bedroom curtains and let the world in to see.
Which, she supposed, was pretty much what she did, sharing such private moments in such a public forum.
She thumbed to her settings and hovered over the option to privatize it, but the damage had been done and the photos - and every photo on her account - were already out there. And there was opportunity with a growing social following; she could use it to raise awareness about the things she cared about.
She arrowed back to her profile to scroll through the comments on the recent photos, notifications popping up continuously. She couldn't keep up with them, the comment thread resetting before she could read them all.
They were generally positive comments. Lots of girls squealing about levels of cuteness. Lots of guys talking about levels of hotness and bang-ability of Beca and her, whether separately or together. Chloe rolled her eyes at that. There were plenty of girls doing the same, which made her smile and then made her feel a little hypocritical. And of course there was a smattering of people commenting in all capitals how they were living a life of sin and posting verses from Leviticus. She swiped left, deleted their comments, and banned them when she came across one.
She would control it. While she still could, anyway.
And apparently people called them "Bechloe"? That was kinda fun. And better than Amy's "Bloe."
The Twitter situation similar.
"Are you still watching baby videos?" Beca called from the bathroom.
Chloe looked up from her phone, shocked she'd been going through comments and tweets for nearly an hour. It was apparently long enough for Beca to shower and do her hair and makeup, as she stepped out of the bathroom wearing a towel to snag a bra and underwear out of the dresser. She tossed her towel on the bed next to Chloe, smiling a little, and Chloe realized she was staring.
She blinked, glancing away and then found it as ridiculous as Beca apparently did.
"Little late for bashful, babe," Beca said, smirking as she worked her hands behind her back to hook her bra. "I don't mind," she added with a wink before heading to the closet.
"No, I know." Chloe sighed. Her brain felt like a word jumble. "The press release went out."
"Yeah, they said it'd go at 10 a.m."
"They have pictures from our wedding." She didn't mean for it to sound as accusatory as it came out, but it didn't seem to faze Beca.
"Yeah, I gave them one to use, that one we really liked," Beca said, buttoning her green sleeveless blouse as she walked back and sat heavily on the bed, still pantsless, to look at Chloe's computer screen. "They had to have something."
"No," she corrected, scrolling the gallery into view. "They have pictures," she elongated the s, clarifying. "Plural."
Beca leaned over and took control of the trackpad, clicking through. She scowled, and it grew stronger with every click and then disappeared when she got to the photo of her laughing in bed from Chloe's Instagram.
Chloe held her breath, not knowing what Beca's reaction meant. It was her fault that picture was out there. In front of thousands, maybe tens of thousands of people. And it was of Beca being walls-down vulnerable and she did not do walls-down vulnerable for the public.
Beca didn't explode, or swear, or storm off. Instead, she sighed and cycled back to the first image in the slideshow and scrolled up to read the text.
"Well, at least the article is okay," she said quietly. "Should have expected them to dig through public records." She patted Chloe's knee and stood up, returning to the closet. "I hope people donate. Bring some good out of this flea circus."
Chloe felt like she should apologize for the photos, that she dropped the ball more than once and could have prevented the photos from ever being seen by the public. "Beca -"
"I should probably tweet about it, huh? That's what people do. I hate this thing…shit I have like a fuck ton of followers now." Beca wandered back to the bed, now clad in loose-fitting, ripped up jeans. "Seriously, Chloe, I have sixty-two thousand followers. Last time I paid attention it was like five thousand. What the fuck?"
Chloe started to provide the obvious answer but Beca thrust her phone into her face and cut her off.
"Is this okay? Do I need a hashtag or something? Do you want me to tag you in it?"
Chloe scanned the copy.
Thx for the support guys. Luckiest girl. chloemarieb is the best. Pls visit trevorprojectorg.
"Yeah you can tag me, I mean, it is what it is. We'll figure out how to leverage this stuff. Here, let me." She took Beca's phone without waiting for permission and tweaked it.
Love you guys. But love chloemarieb more. Pls give 2 TrevorProject. #Bechloe
She pulled Beca in for a selfie, attached it to the tweet, and handed the phone back without posting it.
"What the hell is hashtag Bec-clo?"
"Not Bec-clo; Bechloe, like our names mashed together. It's all over the comments on my Instagram. That's what people call us. Let's embrace it; make it a thing."
"People call us Bechloe?"
"Yeah, you know, like Brangelina and Bennifer."
Beca frowned, but laughed.
"And I made your tweet sassier. You are sassy. Be sassy on Twitter to them; they'll eat it up."
"You're telling me I should be a bitch to my fans? Ha, fans."
"I said sassy, not bitchy. And yes, you obviously have fans."
"Where's the line between sassy and bitchy?" Beca said with a smile and Chloe heard the tell-tale chirping sound of Beca posting her tweet, her own phone chiming a few seconds later with the notification that Beca had tweeted.
"What?" Chloe asked when Beca quirked an eyebrow at her at the sound. "You, like, never tweet so when you do, I don't want to miss it. And besides," she continued, grabbing Beca around the waist to pull her down into her lap and kiss her. "I'm your number one fan."
"Okay, Misery. Don't hobble me in my sleep tonight," Beca said with a smile when they parted.
"Wow, you took that dark quickly," Chloe said, playfully nervous under Beca's gaze. "I didn't think you'd have seen the movie."
"Didn't. Read the book in high school."
"Of course you did."
"I have a meeting though, I need to get going."
"About what?" Chloe asked, swatting Beca's rear end after she stood and turned to leave.
"I put a request in for a manager. The label has a few on staff I can interview or whatever. If they suck I have to find my own."
"A manager?"
"Yeah. This marriage drama made me realize I shouldn't - can't, really - manage my own career. It's dumb of me to try. I don't know this industry and I don't want to keep fucking up."
"I think that's a really good idea, Bec." She paused, letting a teasing smile settle into place. "You're all famous now with your headline news and sixty-two thousand fans."
Beca flipped her off and then bent to kiss her. "Gotta run or I'll be later than I already am."
"I could get used to this," Chloe said as she settled into her First Class seat.
Beca was next to her, fighting to untangle the cord on her headphones. "Used to what?"
"Traveling in style."
"Oh." Beca patted her knee and resumed working on the tangle. "Well, get used to it, baby. Mama's done flying coach. Oh my God, I just packed these like two hours ago, how did they get tangled so badly?"
Chloe laughed and took the headphones away from Beca, detangling them with relative ease to hand them back with a wink. "You're not going to wear those the whole flight and ignore me, are you?"
Beca rested the headphones around her neck, and Chloe smiled at it; Beca rarely worked at home, and it was a fuzzy nostalgic sight seeing them in their rightful place again. "No, but I figure you'll talk me into watching a movie at some point." She gestured at the screens mounted in the seats in front of them. "Since we have five hours to kill."
"You're right, I'm totes going to," Chloe said with a smile. "Hey, don't forget to text Luke about whatever."
"Shit, thanks."
On the way to the airport, Beca had asked Chloe to remind her to text her new manager before she had to turn off her phone. Chloe didn't know about what, and she didn't yet ask. She was still amused that in what was arguably one of the most unlikely scenarios that could occur, Beca's old boss from WBUJ not only moved to Los Angeles, but graduated from being a college radio station DJ to a music manager. It had been serendipitous, after Beca hated every manager the label offered her. They were all "old and boring" and had no clue what to do with her. In a rare moment, Beca had taken to her personal Facebook to complain about it, only to get a message from Luke the next day, and within a week, Beca had her first manager.
Now Beca had someone on her side of the court now when it came to work, and Chloe had noticed the change immediately in Beca that came with no longer having to worry about everything.
"What is it you guys are talking about?" she decided to ask, already bored and they were still parked at the gate in Los Angeles. "If you don't mind my asking."
Beca looked up from her phone, thumbs still typing blindly for a few strokes until she glanced down and tapped Send. "Oh, yeah, it's cool. We're starting to work out what my next project is going to be. It's kind of weird, now, because before, they came looking for me, specifically. And now I'm tied to Capitol, so I have to work with the artists on the label with me, and then which of them is ready to start a record and when and am I even right for them."
"So it's slim pickings?" Chloe hadn't considered that, that Beca's opportunities were as narrow as they were huge with the position she was in.
"Yes and no. Capitol's part of Universal Music Group which is fucking massive, so there are a lot of other labels and other artists I could work with; it just gets messy, contractually, to do that. Which is what I have Luke for." She smiled and wiggled her phone at Chloe before checking it one more time and switching it to airplane mode.
"Oh, really? That's good then, right? Any prospects yet? I mean, I know it's only been like a week."
"Yeah, no. A few. Sky Ferreira. Lorde, but she's been working with the same guy for awhile so I don't know about that. Neon Trees. He actually brought up No Doubt, which made me question my decision to hire him."
"What? Why? Baby, they're legendary, why wouldn't you want them?"
"That's exactly why. They're legendary. I don't need to fuck up their sound."
"Did you listen to their last album?"
"No."
"No one else did either."
"Ooh, burn, Beale," Beca said, laughing.
"I love them, but they're kind of lost, musically, in my opinion."
Beca shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, right now he's just trying to sniff out who's even in the market for a new producer. Long way to go between now and actually sitting down in a studio."
"I know, but you gotta have faith in yourself babe. Don't be afraid of catching the big fish. I mean, you came out of the gate with Katy Perry. She's not some nobody."
"No, I know." Beca sighed and pushed her hand through her hair, sighing.
Chloe knew that move combination. She slipped her arm around Beca's shoulders and squeezed her. "Don't doubt yourself, baby. You're amazing, and you'll find the right artist, and we're going to have to rearrange those gold and platinum records on our wall to make room."
Beca sniffed a laugh. "Or find a bigger wall."
"It's the biggest wall in the place without windows."
Beca laughed again. "God, Chloe. I was implying we should find a new place once I get my next advance."
"Oh. Oh!" Chloe felt herself light up and she pulled Beca in for a better hug, awkward in their seatbelted positions. "Yes! I totally can't wait to go house hunting with you."
"I mean, I figured we might want to like, be able to have a nursery if we're going to do this whole baby thing."
"Ugh, Beca, stop," Chloe teased, melting into a puddle. "I don't want to cry this entire trip and if you keep talking like that, that's what I'm going to do."
Beca laughed and tilted her head to kiss her. "Understood. I shall now resume being an uncaring, sassy bitch for the duration of this flight."
"Sassy bitch, okay." Chloe kissed her back. "But no not caring allowed."
