“Look, I don’t disagree, but I’m making money now. Not stay-at-home-mom money but at least enough to make you comfortable. Pay for health insurance, even if we have to pay cash. We’ll figure it out, Summer. If you want to try.”
“Try what?” I ask carefully. “I assumed this was about the baby. Not about…us.”
“They’re the same thing.” He looks completely sincere as he reaches across the table for my hands. “We agreed we wanted to see each other again but that it was too hard at this stage of our lives. My career, your mom, all that. But now there’s a baby. Yeah, it’s going to be hard—maybe the hardest thing ever—but we have to do it anyway. This is fate forcing us to do what we didn’t think we could do.”
Is he really this perfect?
“I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop,” I admit finally.
“The other shoe?” He looks genuinely confused.
“Do you not realize how perfect you sound? You’re literally saying everything any girl in my situation wants to hear. Offering money. Time. Essentially…a relationship. Who are you really? This Tate or the Tate on the phone? Because if you turn into the other Tate the minute we’re apart, this isn’t going to work for me. I’m not a kid—I’ve been around the block a few times and had my heart stomped on too. The only difference now is the baby.”
“I am far from perfect,” he says gently. “I can be loud and larger than life. On tour, I tend to stay up all night and sleep all day. I don’t like vegetables, hardly any. And I’m bad with money. You’ll have to rein me in because I’ll be ordering shit for the baby every time I get on my phone.”
“Our faults complement each other,” I say, a faint smile playing on my lips. “I can be too quiet sometimes, even though I don’t take shit from anyone. And I can be frugal to the point of being cheap sometimes.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he says, squeezing my hands. “Now how about we go upstairs and relax? And I’m not talking about sex. I don’t want you to feel obligated—but I really don’t want to sleep on a couch.”
“There’s a bed in the guest room,” I tease.
To my surprise, he doesn’t even blink. “Would you prefer me to sleep in there?”
Would I?
Not even a little.
“No. But I’m…tired. I feel like I haven’t truly slept since I found out.”
“Then tonight you will.” He gets up and holds out his hands. “Come on.”
And despite my misgivings, I don’t hesitate.
Even if this is short-lived and the other Tate comes out the minute he leaves, I’m going to enjoy every second we have together.
I wake up to a familiar roiling in my stomach and groan.
Opening my eyes, the light in the room tells me it’s late, which means I slept well, but my stomach isn’t going to let me off the hook. And I really don’t want to puke in front of Tate.
“Here.” I look up, confused, as Tate hands me a napkin with something in it. “I did some research online and it says dry crackers first thing in the morning can stave off the morning sickness.”
“I read that too but usually I make a run for the bathroom before I can get downstairs.”
“Let’s try it this way.”
I take the napkin and look at the crackers with distaste. Plain, boring Saltines. Yuck. But I’ll try anything if it means I don’t need to puke. I nibble one side and then pop the whole thing in my mouth.
Jesus, it’s like a mouth full of sand.
But I dutifully eat the second one and to my shock, the gurgling in stomach abates enough for me to sit up.
Tate looks delightfully disheveled but dressed for the day.
“Did you go out and buy me crackers?” I ask.
He nods. “I also didn’t see any ginger ale in the kitchen, so I got some of that and I ordered these ginger candies online that are supposed to be really good for morning sickness. They’ll arrive tomorrow.”
“Tate.” Tears fill my eyes.
