“There’s a lot going on,” I concede.
“Is that good or bad?” he asks curiously, watching my face.
“Neither.” I hesitate. “I guess last night got me thinking.”
“Please tell me you’re not upset about Sherry?”
“I am, but not at you. Not even at how rude and condescending she was. It was more about what she said. How she understands why I’m your wife when she realized I’m pregnant.”
“Babe, you can’t let my past come back to?—”
“No, it’s not that. Don’t you see? I’m talking about reality.”
“Which reality?”
“The one where we wouldn’t be married if I hadn’t gotten pregnant. You can’t deny that.”
“No, I won’t deny it. We made the decision that was best for us, regardless of what people think. You needed health insurance and I was able to provide it. But don’t get it twisted, Summer. It would have cost a little more, but Sasha found several health insurance plans I could have paid for that would take you, even pregnant. If I didn’t want to marry you, I wouldn’t have.”
I hadn’t realized there were health insurance options.
That marriage wasn’t the only option.
When I’m quiet for what must feel like a long time, he asks, “Are you unhappy? Being married to me?” He looks a little unsure of himself, and I hate that. He’s been really good to me. He is good to me. I honestly have no complaints.
Just fear.
“Not at all,” I whisper, moving closer to him. “I’m incredibly happy. That’s why I’m scared. Things that seem too good to be true usually are.”
One side of his mouth quirks up in a sweet, sexy smile and he puts a hand on the side of my face. “I love hearing that,” he says softly. “Hard times are coming, though. I don’t know when or what, but we both know things won’t always be easy. If I’m traveling when you get toward the end of your pregnancy, we’re both going to be stressed about it. There are going to be issues for us to work through. For example—figuring out where we’re going to live when this tour is over.”
I stare at him in confusion.
“You don’t want to live in New York? With me?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to—but the band is based in Minneapolis. That’s where we rehearse, write our music, plan for what’s next, come up with merchandising ideas...and most of that can’t be done long distance.”
“Do you even have a place to go in Minneapolis?” I ask.
“Not a place of my own. I gave up my apartment and sold my car before we left because I wanted to be as debt-free as possible, but I can crash at Angus’s house. The offer is open-ended. I could also go to my parents’, though that would be a last resort.”
“If you don’t have a home in Minneapolis, and I not only have one, but we can live there rent-free, wouldn’t it make sense to live in New York and commute the way Mick and Taryn are?”
“Mick and Taryn are only doing it because her son is in school and her mom takes care of him so they can work and travel but they’re going to be in Minneapolis as much as necessary. It’s different for you and me.”
“I have Dolly and other friends to help with the baby when you’re gone,” I say carefully. “If I move to Minneapolis, I’ll be all alone with a baby in a town where I don’t know anyone. Not to mention finding somewhere new, somewhere I trust, that will take my mom.”
“Like I said, we’re going to have to deal with some tough decisions, both together and individually. I have to think about the band because this is my only source of income, and how I’ll support us.”
“My only sources of income are in New York,” I reply.
“Not true. You can bake your pies anywhere.”
“We’d need a kitchen to bake them in, and I don’t know how I feel about living with Angus and Ryleigh long-term. Especially with a baby, as well as Mick going back and forth.”
“We wouldn’t do that. If we move to Minneapolis, we’ll rent or buy something.”
“I didn’t think you had that kind of money.”
