“Thanks, man.”
I sit in the kitchenette as the guys get ready, mulling over how I’m going to fix what’s so badly broken.
But what right do I have to a second chance?
Samantha doesn’t need me. She never did.
Sadly, there is no life for me without her. Or at least not a happy one. Even if there weren’t a baby, I’d long for Samantha more than I would my next breath, because without her, I’m simply not whole.
Before we met, my life was defined by my father walking out on my family. I had to work hard at a young age, sometimes taking on three jobs.
I’ve spend long nights awake on the bus, wondering what my life would be like had my father stayed. Would I be married? Would I have children of my own?
Then Samantha came into my life like a goddamn freight train. She was witty, utterly beautiful, and not at all what she appeared to be.
And…she was pregnant with my child.
I unlock my phone and stare at it, unsure of what to do. My love for Samantha is unquestionable, but it burns so hot, it could burn down my whole fucking world.
“Hey, do you have a minute?”
I look up to see Bianca standing over me, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Outside of her spray tanning me, we’ve hardly said two words to each other since she came back with Prince, and I can only assume it’s because I brought Samantha aboard the tour bus.
“Sure, take a seat.”
“I, ah, wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
I arch a brow. “For?”
“I guess I’d been avoiding you ever since I came back, which isn’t fair. I just didn’t understand why you would bring Samantha aboard the bus.”
“It was never to hurt anyone.”
“I should have figured that. I was so angry, I didn’t realize you were an unwitting participant in Samantha’s shenanigans.”
“If it makes you feel any better, Samantha came aboard the bus for personal reasons. Any situation she had with you and Natasha was just collateral damage.”
Bianca rolls her eyes. “What reason would that rich bitch—who lives in a mansion, mind you—have to live aboard the Hunk bus, other than to give us poors hell?”
Without thinking, I blurt, “She’s pregnant.”
Bianca blinks back at me, her jaw hanging open like it has a broken hinge.
“Shit, I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
“But is it true?”
I nod.
“And you’re the father…”She looks down at her lap and presses her eyes closed. “Shit—I’m sorry.”
I sigh. “No need to be.”
“Her parents must have flipped out when they discovered she got knocked up by a…” she pauses, then mutters, “fuck.”
“A stripper? It’s fine. I’m not offended. And I have no way of knowing how her parents responded, as she’s never introduced me to them.”
“Why did you keep it a secret?”
