“I get it. But you guys need to deal with this.”
“I don’t want to have this fight on the eve of a must-win game.”
“That’s an excuse.”
She’s right, but I’m here now.
“I’m scared he’s going to make me choose!” I blurt. “And if he makes me choose between him and going on tour, I think our marriage might be over.”
I’m staring straight ahead since I’m driving, but I know she’s gaping at me.
“He…I mean, he wouldn’t. Would he?” She sounds shocked.
“I don’t know.”
She reaches across the center console and squeezes my hand. “He won’t. He loves you. He has to know that won’t cut it.”
I pull into a private parking place behind the club. The band made sure I would have a place to park so I could get in and out easily. I’m a lot more recognizable than they are these days, so I have to be cognizant of my safety. Especially now.
It’s early, the band probably just finished soundcheck, but I want to hang with them for a while. And there’s no traffic now. If I wait until later, it’ll take forever to get in or out.
“Let’s talk about it later,” I say quietly. “Okay?”
“We will,” she says firmly.
Luckily, I’m distracted the moment we get inside.
Crimson Edge is doing an interview, and though I feel a little bad about it, the moment the journalist sees me he wants to talk to me. Luckily, we just recorded a song together, so I’m able to put as much attention on them as possible.
“Lexi, what happened last night?” the journalist asks. “Are you okay? It looks like you took quite a fall.”
I shake my head, trying to make light of it. “Shit happens, you know? It’s rock and roll. However, for my safety, and insurance purposes, the band and I have decided no more stage diving.”
“That’s a shame. Your fans love it.”
“Well, personal safety has to come before fun, you know?”
“Absolutely.” He pauses. “So, rumor has it you’re pregnant. Any truth to that?”
I freeze, completely caught off-guard. No one knows outside of my family, the band and their spouses, and management.
Jonny must see the panic on my face and immediately jumps in.
“Aw, man, I thought this was our interview. It’s like you like her more than us.”
“She has better stories,” the guy quips.
Fuck.
What am I going to do?
I can lie, but then it’s going to come out sooner rather than later. I’m already nine weeks. In a month’s time, I’ll be through my first trimester.
Dammit.
“So it’s true?” The journalist is staring at me.
“Maybe that’s a personal question you shouldn’t ask,” Sam interjects, leaning forward with a scowl on his face. “Are you going to ask us if our wives or girlfriends are pregnant?”
