She chews the inside of her cheek for a few seconds. “Why aren’t you trying harder to convince me to have the abortion?”
“Because it’s not my place to tell you to do that. If it was easy, you would have already done it and I wouldn’t be here. In theory, it’s so fucking easy.”
“In practice, it’s really hard,” she whispers.
“I get that. That’s why I asked the question and then moved on. Unless you’re still torn and want to go over the pros and cons?”
She immediately shakes her head. “No. I’ve been doing that for two weeks. I’ve made my…decision.”
“Okay, so let’s not beat a dead horse. Short-term, what do you need from me? I know money is an issue as far as health care goes and we’re in a holding pattern on that until I talk to Sasha. If she says we can’t, I’ll have her do some research into a plan that will take you even though you’re already pregnant. They’re not supposed to take an existing condition into consideration, but we know insurance companies use every loophole possible to get out of paying for things.”
“Why are you being so nice?” she asks, tears suddenly filling her eyes. “You were so mad when I told you and?—”
“I’m a guy,” I admit sheepishly. “And this situation is usually a rock star’s worst nightmare.”
“Usually?”
“It’s different with us, Summer. You’re different.”
Chapter 20
Summer
Since the day I found out I was pregnant, I’ve been teetering on the edge, ready to go over at the drop of a hat. My emotions have been all over the place, running the gamut from anger to fear to anxiety to resignation.
But now that he’s here everything is raw all over again.
He’s being so nice. Patient. Sweet.
Just like when he was here last time.
I don’t know who the Tate I spoke to on the phone was because he’s not the same guy sitting across from me.
“You’re the one who’s different,” I say quietly.
“On the phone.” He looks almost embarrassed. “I’m really sorry, Summer. It was temporary insanity. That’s not who I am. Not really. That was scared, caught-off-guard Tate.”
“And who are you now?”
“Sheepish, apologetic Tate? Tate who wants to make it up to you?”
I stare into his handsome face, looking for answers to unasked questions.
There’s a reason I never brought a man who wasn’t a friend or officially my boyfriend home before.
And there has to be a reason I didn’t hesitate to bring him here.
He is different.
Current circumstances notwithstanding.
“I’m scared,” I say finally. “Because the truth is, you’re saying and doing all the right things, but then like you said, you’re going back on tour—and I have to stay here.”
“You do, but you can also come out to see me on tour. You have friends, don’t you? If your mom has a bad morning, Dolly can go. Sylvie can go. Hell, even Brent was giving me the side eye last night, so I know there are people who care about you. If you flew out on a Sunday morning, a Sunday that we have a show, you could fly back Tuesday afternoon. Maybe even Wednesday morning, depending on our schedule. See us play. And most of all, the two of us would spend some time getting to know each other.
“And I can come back. We usually have Mondays and Tuesdays off. It’s not really convenient if we’re out west, but that’s not until August. For the rest of July we’re either on the Atlantic seaboard or the Midwest—both of which are fairly easy flights to get here.”
“But it’s a lot of money,” I whisper. “Money we could be saving for the baby.”
