“Come on, don’t cry.” He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me close. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see. I’m not going anywhere.”
Tears are impossible to stave off these days so I let them fall.
“Easy, baby. I’m here. Shh.” He’s so sweet and thoughtful and tender. Stroking my hair, rubbing my back.
I don’t know how I’m going to go back to being without him now that he’s here again.
I cry for a full five minutes, much to my chagrin, but I manage to get up to use the bathroom—and I don’t feel the need to puke. I’m still queasy and a little unsteady on my feet, but it’s not like the other mornings.
Why didn’t I think to bring crackers upstairs so I’d have them next to me when I wake up in the morning?
We go downstairs and I brew a cup of tea while he makes coffee for himself. I haven’t been eating breakfast because I’m usually bent over the toilet at this point in the day.
“What are your plans today?” he asks as we sit at the counter.
“I want to see my mom.”
“Yay! I can play guitar for the gang at the nursing home again. I learned some Frank Sinatra because someone asked if I knew ‘Volare.’ I didn’t, but I do now.”
I laugh because he’s adorable.
Thoughtful.
Sweet.
“Then I have to bake.”
“I like helping you bake.”
“You like making me take breaks from baking,” I say primly, batting my eyelashes at him.
His eyes darken for a moment. “Are baking breaks on the table?”
“It would be kind of silly to go backward. Unless…” Is he dating other women? Is he fucking other women? Ew, I can’t even think about that.
“What?” he asks automatically. “You got a really dark look on your face.”
“We can’t sleep together if you’re sleeping with…other women on tour. Especially not while I’m pregnant.”
He looks horrified. “Look, I know I screwed up when you called me, but can we please move past that? I’m not that kind of man. If we’re going to be together, we’re together. I don’t know what the future is going to bring, but right now, no. Of course, I’m not sleeping with other women!”
“Have you?” I ask softly. I know I shouldn’t. I know the answer will probably gut me. But I have to know.
“Have I what? Slept with other women since you?” He actually laughs.
And for a moment my feelings are hurt.
“Baby, I’ve been so pissed off at the world since I left here last time, I haven’t even looked at another woman. The guys in the band think something is wrong with me, that’s how bad it’s been. I think the guy you talked to on the phone was sexually frustrated Tate. That’s the only explanation I have for how surly I was.”
I stare at him in complete shock.
He’s been faithful this whole time? Even though we didn’t talk about it, literally agreed to go our separate ways.
He continues to surprise me.
The more I get to know him the more I like him.
I’m in dangerous territory, but I don’t care.
