She doesn’t have to finish that sentence for me to understand.
“Then place the order and I’ll go pick it up.” I hand her my phone. “Just put in what you want and I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you.” She pulls up the website, types in her order and then hands me back the phone.
“I’m going to go take a quick shower. The car keys are in my purse.” Then she turns and hurries up the stairs.
I watch her go thoughtfully, wanting to go after her but opting not to. We have so much to talk about, so much to figure out. And yet, now that I’m here, I’m not anxious or annoyed anymore.
In fact, I’ve had the weirdest sense of déjà vu since I walked in the door. Yes, I’ve been here before but not under these circumstances, and I don’t understand why it feels so comfortable. Familiar. Like I’m…home. Exactly where I’m supposed to be at this moment.
Just like last time I was here.
There was never any awkwardness between us, or discomfiture. She invited me home with her and for two days I was completely immersed in her life like it was the most natural thing in the world. Now it looks like I’m going to be immersed in her life forever. And instead of freaking out like I was before, I feel this overwhelming surge of protectiveness. More than anything else, I want to do whatever I can to make her feel better.
When she cried in my arms outside the diner, something inside of me broke free. Like the fear and anxiety I’d been grappling with simply dissipated—when it occurred to me that she needs me more than I need to hang on to whatever frustration or anger I felt when she told me she was pregnant. That’s probably oversimplified, but as I drive home from the Mexican restaurant, I realize I’m ready to meet this challenge head-on.
I tell her a little about the tour as she eats, funny stories about Jonny falling in Toronto and how the crowd body surfed him to the stairs where he could get back on stage.
“That sounds epic,” she says, her voice a little wistful. Like her days of concerts and fun are behind her.
“Come to a show next week,” I suggest. We haven’t talked about anything important yet, haven’t discussed what we’re going to do, but once again, I’m compelled to say or do whatever is necessary to bring a smile back to her face.
“You know I can’t,” she sighs.
“Yes, you can.” I let her make excuses when I left last time because I was way too focused on my needs. Or rather, the bad timing in meeting a woman I might want to get involved with. There’s no back pedaling now. We’re in this, one way or another. My preference would be that we’re in it together. And the only way that happens is if we spend time together.
“Tate.” She puts down her fork and daintily wipes her mouth. “Having a baby is going to change everything. You know that.”
“It is. But what doesn’t have to change is…us. I am fully aware that I’m getting off easy. I get to go back on tour, I’m not the one who’s dealing with morning sickness and whatever else is going to happen to your body during pregnancy. I understand that. But at the same time, I’m not the kind of man who walks away from my responsibilities.”
She lifts her gaze to mine and the question there is unmistakable.
Shit.
I really regret the way I spoke to her when she told me.
“I know I was a dick,” I admit. “It took a week or so for me to let it all percolate, but I’m good now.”
“Are you? That’s easy to say but it’s a lot harder to do.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here. So, let’s get through the basics, okay? First and foremost, an abortion is off the table, right?”
She sighs. “I tried, Tate. Twice. I went to the clinic. The first time I couldn’t get out of the car. The second time, I walked into the lobby and picked up a few pamphlets. I immediately felt like throwing up and had to run outside to get air. So, I guess the answer is yes, abortion is off the table. Even though it would make everything so much easier. I guess I’m just not wired that way.”
“Okay.” I nod. “Then the next question, do you have health insurance?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“So we need to get you some.”
“I don’t know how that would work because in addition to not being able to afford it, I think this counts as a pre-existing condition or something? I’ve already been to the doctor.”
“We have a plan through the record company, so tomorrow I’ll call Sasha and see if there’s a domestic partner clause or something, where I can add you to my plan.”
“Okay.” She cocks her head. “Tate?”
“Yeah?”
