Colt stirs beside me as the alarm blares, pulling me fully awake. He groans, rolls over, and presses a soft, sleepy kiss to my lips before reaching out to silence it. “Morning, baby,” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes.
“Morning. Are you and Johnny heading to the interview together?” I ask.
He nods, yawning. “Yeah. I forgot how much it sucks waking up to an alarm,” he grumbles, flashing me a crooked smile. “Guess I’d better get used to it again.” He leans over, gives me another quick kiss, then swings his legs out of bed and stands, running a hand through his messy hair.
“Babe, I know I don’t have to tell you, but please don’t mention anything about my hysterectomy. I don’t need nor want the world to know about it.”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that to you. It’s completelyour business. The world can think you broke your leg and had surgery on your stomach. They don’t need to know anything else. Plus, I’m going to try to swing it, so we talk mainly about our music anyway. After all, isn’t that what people want to know about?”
“Are you going to tell them we set a wedding date?”
“I’ll tell them we set one, but I won’t tell them when. We don’t need our day invaded by paps,” he replies, and I nod in agreement, feeling somewhat relieved.
“Absolutely. We should give exclusive rights to one magazine. Fans will want to see you in your suit,” I tease.
“You mean jeans and a leather jacket, right?” he corrects, pulling a tank top over his head.
I grab a pillow and throw it at him.
He deflects it easily, laughing as it bounces off his arm. “Baby, I’ll even wear pink if you want me to,” he says, walking back over and sitting on the edge of the bed. “But only on the tie. No pink shirt. No pink suit. I have to draw the line somewhere.”
I laugh. “I won’t make you wear pink, don’t worry. But I kinda like the leather-jacket idea. You always look ridiculously hot in one.”
He smirks and leans in, kissing me. My hand slides to the back of his head, holding him there as I deepen the kiss. A small moan escapes me as his tongue finds mine, but too soon, he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine.
“You know it’s been months since the accident,” I murmur, my voice low. “And weeks since we even tried anything. Maybe tonight… we could finally be together again? The doctor said it was fine. We’re good to go.” I try to sound sexy and confident, but there’s a crack of longing underneath the words.
“You know I want to, baby. So bad,” he murmurs. “But maybe we should give it a couple more weeks. Just to be sure.”
I shake my head, biting my bottom lip suggestively. “Colt, I’m fine. And if something’s wrong, I promise, we’ll stop. But can’t we at least try?”
He exhales heavily. “We’ll see,” he says after a moment. “Let me think about it today, and I’ll get back to you tonight.”
Which basically means no.
I sigh, dipping my chin in defeat.
“You’d better get ready. Wouldn’t want you being late for your first interview.”
“Wish me luck,” he says, standing and stretching before grabbing his jacket.
“Good luck. Knock ’em dead, my rock god.”
He flashes me a grin before heading out the door.
I flop back onto the pillow, huffing, as Princess hops up and starts licking my face. “At least you show me some love, hey, girl?”
Eventually, I drag myself out of bed and make my way downstairs, moving slowly on my still-healing leg. When I reach the kitchen, Anna is there, rocking a fussy Aston in her arms.
She looks exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, and tears threatening to spill.
I step closer. “You okay, Mumma?” I ask gently.
She wipes a stray tear from her cheek but manages a tired smile. “I’m okay. Just a long night,” she says, wiping at another tear.
“Right. Off to bed with you,” I say firmly. “I’ll take him for a while. You need some real sleep.”
She shakes her head weakly. “No, Dee, you don’t have to—”
