While the guys were down at the Chateau Marmont in L.A. being interviewed by Rolling Stone magazine, up in Portland a complete stranger was checking out my girl bits. The fancily framed medical degrees hanging on her office wall did nothing to detract from the awkwardness of where she put her gloved fingers.
Yep, going to the OB/GYN was just the best.
Everything with Bean was fine, by the way. And hearing her heartbeat for the first time rocked my world. She was real. This was real. I was actually going to be a mother. Amazing.
With the band touring and Ben’s ban from Mal and Anne’s apartment (also, I’m pretty sure he was avoiding me, despite all his fine words), it was a full four weeks after he filled my humble bank account to bursting before we laid eyes on each other again. It took that long for me to stop constantly barfing and to be given the go-ahead to travel. Due to having my head in the toilet, I’d missed out on Vancouver, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, and L.A. Anne and I met up with the band in Phoenix. We arrived near the end of their concert, having been delayed by a storm.
Sam met us and took us to the side of the stage to watch the encore. It was cool to see Stage Dive play live again. I was sitting on an empty box behind a massive screen that projected the happenings out to the stadium audience. I couldn’t see the people, but I could hear them. Roadies, set construction workers, and similar were also hanging out, waiting.
The minute the show was done, Mal attacked Anne. The man was all over her like a rash, rubbing his sweaty self against her and basically dry-humping in public. She didn’t seem to mind. We didn’t hang around, everyone heading straight to the hotel. Apparently any interviews and meet-and-greets were done before the show.
I got a welcoming chin tip from Ben, but that was it in the rush.
The line of luxury black Lexuses crawled to a stop as we neared the swanky hotel’s back entrance. Hands battered at the windows, people struggling to get close enough to press their faces up against the darkened glass.
It was freaky.
Dave and Ev were already inside, having been in the first vehicle. Ben, Lena, and Jimmy jumped out of the vehicle in front of us. Immediately, Lena and Jimmy hurried through the corridor made by security, into the safety of the hotel. But Ben delayed, signing autographs and shaking hands.
There were so many people out there. A veritable sea of women and men both, crying, screaming, and carrying on. I’d known how big the guys were, but knowing it and seeing it were two entirely different things. There were even TV crews among the mix, cameras catching it all.
“Shit,” I whispered, hunching down.
“Someone can’t keep a secret,” said Anne, sitting between Mal and me on the backseat.
Mal just shrugged. “Where we’re staying always gets out. This is the norm. Get used to it, ladies.”
A black-clad security person opened the door and the clamor hit me. It was staggering. A wall of mindless, maximum-volume, gray noise. Sweat wet my back but my mouth dried to nothing. Anne nudged me gently, nodding toward the door and the batshit-crazy crowd beyond. I swallowed hard and nodded back. Like it or not (not!), we were going out there. Generally, agoraphobia wasn’t much of an issue (or enochlophobia, if you want to get technical about it). It didn’t stop me from doing anything. Get me anywhere near a loud swarming mass of people, however, and I’m rarely at my best.
I cautiously stepped down, feeling my way across the concrete. All of the flashes from the cameras were dazzling my eyes.
Crap.
The crowd surged forward, closing in, and the line of security struggled to hold them back. People were yelling shit, none of it decipherable over the sound of my heartbeat pounding behind my ears. They were chanting a name, and from the shape of their lips, I’m pretty sure it was Mal’s.
I stood frozen, gaping, totally immobile. Fuck. Nope. Couldn’t do it. What if I somehow tripped or got trod on or misstepped and accidentally hurt Bean?
Before I could turn tail and run back to the car, however, a strong arm wrapped around me, pulling my body in against the safety of his.
“I’ve gotcha,” he said, his breath warming my ear.
I wasn’t up to speaking.
Ben hustled me down the narrow corridor formed by security and into the building. Both of his arms were around me, holding me tight until he had to remove one to punch the button for the elevator. Cool air soothed my hot face while I concentrated on getting back my breath. God, what an idiot I was, losing it like that. Some great mother or psychologist I’d make.
Behind us, Mal and Anne were still out there, barely visible among the crowd.
“Let’s go.” Ben’s hand slid down to mine, grabbing hold to tow me into the elevator.
“Aren’t they coming? What are they doing?”
The elevator doors slid closed.
“With Mal, it could be anything. Don’t worry, they’re fine.”
I craned my neck, necessary for viewing him at close range. His hair was a little longer, tied back in a tiny man bun, his beard neatly trimmed. Still beautiful, damn it. His T-shirt, plain black with an Arizona postcard printed on the front, fit just right, being neither too big nor too small. The tang of salty sweat lingered in the air around him. I wanted to bury my face in his chest and breathe deep, over and over again, despite the scent of booze. I just wanted to get as close to him as physically possible. One day those feelings would fade. Hopefully one day soon.
He looked down at me with a tight smile, still holding on to my hand. The smile definitely didn’t make it to his eyes. If anything, I’d say the man looked nervous.
“Sorry about wigging out,” I said.
With a low digital tone, the doors slid open.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, and let go of my hand, instead applying gentle pressure low on my back to guide me forward. His motions were sure, his steps steady. However much he’d had to drink, he was clearly still coherent. “C’mon.”
Cream carpet shushed our steps, baby chandeliers lighting our way. It wasn’t very different from Vegas, with the same pricey, luxurious appearance. Another couple of security guys prowled about up here, keeping an eye on things.
“Doesn’t that bother other customers?” I asked, nodding in their direction.
“Band’s got this floor. You’re two doors down in Mal and Anne’s suite.” Ben held up a card to the swipe thing. The little light turned green and he pushed the door open. “Might as well come on in for a minute.”
“Okay.” Not exactly a warm welcome. Man, this was all so hatefully awkward.
Inside, his suite was big, with a nice view and lots of comfy-looking couches in shades of beige. Quite a collection of liquor bottles covered the side table, the only visible trace of any rock ’n’ roll lifestyle in the otherwise pristine room.
None of my business what he’d been up to the night before. None at all.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” We sat down opposite each other. “The morning sickness has eased up.”
“Great.”
“Yeah.”
A nod.
“Thanks for the texts,” I said. “That was good of you.”
“No big deal.”
Morning and night, he’d sent me the same brief almost impersonal question: U ok? I’d responded in kind: Fine! Great! Terrific! A smiley face now and then. It wasn’t as if I could tell him I’d spent the morning hurling, feeling three days dead, with my emotions all over the place, my breasts aching, and my brain slowly being pickled by hormones. Things were too weird between us for such brutal honesty. Besides, he had a lot on his mind, with the concert and all. So instead I’d whined to Anne, and she’d been good enough not to tell me it was my own damn fault. The look lingered in her eyes now and then, but I could ignore it. No point feeling sorry for myself. Onward and upward—or outward as the case with my womb might be.
My hand strayed to my tiny baby bump, barely visible beneath my blue tank top, and Ben’s gaze followed. He rubbed the side of his hand against his lips, eyes stark. The look he gave my abdomen was one of great fear. I couldn’t take it.
“Do you have a juice?” I asked.
“Sure.” The man leapt out of his seat, obviously eager to be gone. He moved to the side cabinet where the bar fridge was cunningly concealed. The room was so silent. When he opened the small juice bottle, the pop of the air seal being broken made me jump.
“Maybe I should get going,” I said, rising to my feet. “Leave you to it.”
“But your juice…”
All of a sudden, the front door crashed open and a party walked in. There could be no other description. Laughter, beer, men and women, they all poured into the expensive suite until the room was close to capacity.
“Epic show,” yelled a lanky guy with long black hair and a woman attached to his hip.
He and Ben smacked palms. “It was good.”
Their talk got drowned out by Metallica. A tall guy covered in tats broke a beer off from his six-pack and thrust it into my hand. I took it out of sheer instinct, the wet can chilling my skin.
“Hey,” he said, giving me a grin. Pale red hair sat spiked up, and you really had to give it to him, he had a nice face. “I’m Vaughan.”
“Lizzy. Hi.”
“Didn’t see you here last night. I’d have definitely remembered you.”
What a flirt. Must have been the boobs. I’d done okay in the past, but I wouldn’t call myself a man magnet. Especially not in a room where half the women looked and dressed like lingerie models.
“Ah, no,” I said. “I only got in this evening.”
Vaughan opened a beer for himself, setting down the six-pack on the coffee table. “A fan, or attached to the band somehow?”
“Both, I guess.”
“Both?” His eyes lit with interest. “Well, you’re in Ben’s room, so I’ll assume you’re a friend of his.”
I just smiled. “How about you? How do you fit in here?”
“I play bass for the warm-up band, Down Fourth.”
“Hey, wow! I’ve heard of you guys. You’re great,” I said, clapping my hands all enthused. You’d think I’d never met a famous musician before.
His grin grew broader. Way to be cool, me.
“I really love that song you do … Shit…”
He laughed while my face slowly started to burn.
“No, I know the name.” How embarrassing and frustrating. “I do. I had it on repeat just the other day.”
“It’s fine.”
“Don’t tell me.” I closed my eyes, searching for the information inside my head. To have my own body rebelling against me, turning me into one big giant, idiotic walking baby-making machine. It wasn’t fair. “Just give me a minute.”
He laughed at me some more.
“Gah. Stupid pregnancy hormones.” I stopped dead.
The whites of Vaughan’s eyes suddenly seemed huge and glaringly bright. Yet again I faced down man fear. I don’t know why. It’s not like there could be any possible chance it was his kid I carried. The irony of a guy who got down to death metal being scared of a pregnant girl was not lost on me.
Way to keep a secret. The minute I said it, I wanted to slap myself silly. Either that or buy myself a muzzle. My pregnancy had been kept under the general populace’s radar, and I really wanted to keep it that way.
“I’d prefer that information didn’t get repeated,” I said, dropping my voice and moving a little closer to the man. “It’s just that it’s early days, and—”
“Vaughan.” Ben stuck his hand out to the man with an excessive amount of male zest. “How you doing?”
“Yeah, good, Ben.”
“See you met Liz.” He pushed the long since requested juice into my spare hand, liberating the beer from my other. Then he cracked the ale open and drank deep.
“Yeah, we were just talking,” said Vaughan, the fear of babies happily gone from his face, replaced once more with his friendly smile. Thank goodness. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything. “Turns out she’s a fan.”
“She is?”
“I am,” I confirmed. “I had ‘Stop’ on repeat all last week.”
Nailed it.
“How about that.” Ben’s smile looked about as natural, and as comfortable, as a polyester pantsuit in June. Whatever he was up to, it wasn’t good. Then, just to confirm my thoughts, he slid his arm around my neck, pulling me in close. Only not as you would a girlfriend or a lover. Nope, nothing like that at all. “Liz is Mal’s new sister-in-law. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
“Yep.” Funny, I’d always loved it when he called me that. This time, however, was different. I took a sip of the apple juice to try to cool myself down.
Brows drawn in, Vaughan looked back and forth between the two of us, obviously confused. “Didn’t realize.”
“Yeah. Sorry to put the fear of Mal into you, but she’s out of bounds. Okay, man?” Ben planted a kiss on top of my head, then went that last irrevocable step too far and actually ruffled my hair like I was snotty-nosed kid. “Word with you in the bedroom, Liz?”
“Sure thing, Ben,” I said through gritted teeth.
He ushered me through the crowd, with a hand to the small of my back once more. The door to the main bedroom was closed—probably the only reason it too hadn’t filled up with people.
I didn’t say a word until he’d closed us in. Then I still didn’t say a word.
Instead, I threw my drink in his face.
“What the fuck?!” he roared, wiping apple juice out of his eyes.
“How dare you ruffle my hair like I’m your kid sister or something.” I dropped my empty glass onto the carpet. “How dare you?”
“I was doing you a favor.”
“Like hell you were.”
The man set aside his beer aside and stormed forward, towering over me. “The guy is a fucking man-whore, Liz. Nearly every night on tour he’s had a different woman.”
“What utter crap.”
“I’m not lying to you. He was flirting with you, trying to get into your pants. It’s what he does.”
“I’m not talking about him.”
Ben blinked.
“You and I, we are not together, remember? If I want to flirt with a guy, I will. It is none of your business.”
“You’re pregnant with my child.” The anger in his eyes—a smarter woman would have stepped back. Screw that. I went nose to nose with him. Well, as close as I could get to it, with the height difference. Next time we fought I was definitely bringing a ladder.
“That’s right, Ben, I’m carrying our child,” I said, breathing hard. “And I’m on tour to help us to figure out how to get along and be parents. Something that involves us having mutual respect for one another.”
“I got respect for you, Liz. What I haven’t got is the ability to stand by while some player tries to chat you up.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me you haven’t had sex with one of those wonderfully liberated, barely dressed ladies out there. Let me know this isn’t just some messed-up double standard you’re trying on me.”
He couldn’t do it. His lips slammed shut and he shifted, edging back, putting room between us. It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Hearts are dumb like that. At least he didn’t try to give me excuses.
“No?” I asked.
Still nothing.
“We’re not together. You have no right to try and warn a guy off me. And treating me like you did—like a child, ruffling my hair, calling me ‘sweetheart’ that way.…” My eyes were itchy, turning liquid. Like hell. “How fucking dare you.”
I should have stormed out. I wanted to. The thought of losing it in front of the cool party crowd, however, stopped me cold. There had to be an alternative. Just a few minutes and I could pull myself together, go find my room. “I need to use the bathroom.”
My dignity was small, about the same size as my bladder since the invention of Bean. I pretty much had to pee constantly, so it wasn’t a complete lie, despite the sudden rising damp in my eyes. Dumb hormones. Idiot men and their god damn sperm. I strode into the grandiose bathroom and slammed the door shut. A tear trickled down my cheek, followed fast by another.
And the girl in the mirror, she still wasn’t glowing. How fucking unfair.
I went and did my business in the toilet, scrubbed my hands and then my face. All of the emotions inside of me kept building up, threatening to leak out again. This situation with Ben was doing my head in. So I did what any sensible knocked-up twenty-one-year-old college dropout would do and climbed into the massive, empty sunken tub to cool down and reassess my life. It was actually quite comfortable. In the distance I could hear the party carrying on with chatter and music. You’d think an upmarket hotel such as this would have thicker walls.
For a good five, ten minutes I sat in there, calming myself, coming to grips with the situation. Perhaps Ben and I shouldn’t talk for a while. We didn’t have to be friends to raise a child together, if indeed that’s what was going to happen. Him changing his mind on being involved would surprise approximately no one. Harsh but true.
Whatever. Come what may, I’d manage.
“Where’s Lizzy?” asked a muffled voice in the next room, male and abrupt. Jimmy Ferris. Why he’d be interested in me I had no idea.
“In the john,” said Ben. “What do you want with her?”
“Take it Mal and Anne are busy making up for lost time. Lena thought she might like to come hang with her.”
“We’re in the middle of something right now. I’ll ask her in a few.”
Jimmy snorted. “You’re having a nice chat, huh? That why you’re dripping wet and there’s an empty glass on the floor? Try again, Ben.”
“None of your fucking business.”
“You’re right about that. It’s not. But oh well…”
For a moment there was nothing, during which I strained to hear something, anything.
“Man, you are fucking shit up with her so damn bad,” said Jimmy, breaking the silence. “One way or another, this girl’s going to be in your life from now on. Way you’re playing it, won’t be in a good way.”
“What do you know about it?” growled Ben.
“What do I know about fucking up things with girls? You serious?”
No reply.
“How many times you talk to Lizzy in the last month?”
“We talk.”
“Not face-to-face or I’d have heard about it from Mal. Another fucking mess you’ve failed to fix.”
“I’m working on it,” said Ben, his voice full of anger. “I’ll smooth shit over with him.”
“Believe it when I see it.”
“Don’t lecture me on messing with the band. Where the fuck were you that last practice session before Seattle, huh?”
Jimmy scoffed. “Taking Lena to see her obstetrician. Do you even know what the hell one of them is?”
“Of course I fucking do.”
“Yeah? You taking Liz to her visits? Looking after her? ’Course not. Because if you were, every other member of this band would have a shitload more respect for you than they got right now.”
“We were heading on tour,” said Ben.
“Some things are more important, man. Take looking after the woman carrying your child, for example.”
“Jim—”
“How many times have you even called that girl since we’ve been on tour?”
“What the fuck? You a relationship counselor now?”
Jimmy laughed. “My woman isn’t throwing drinks in my face, so as far as you’re concerned, I might as well be.”
“She’s not my woman.”
“She’s the girl you put a baby in, asshole. And if she’s been going through half the shit Lena’s been dealing with, then you are just about the lowest cunt I’ve come across in a long time for making her do it alone.”
Guess Ben had no answer to that.
Have to admit, I felt bad for him. He loved these guys like brothers, and I’d been coping okay on my own, give or take. And yes, I did feel a little guilty for listening in on the conversation. Given that I was the topic, however …
“The baby’s got her moods bouncing all over the place. One minute she’s depressed as hell, worrying how we’ll deal with this, sure things are gonna go to shit and I’ll leave her. As if. Then the next, everything’s great and she’s excited again about becoming a mom.”
A pause.
“It’s hard on her, man, all the changes. And it’s scary as hell to be facing, I know.”
“Jim—”
“No. Just shut up and listen. I’m nearly finished.” Jimmy exhaled roughly. “None of us planned this. But you need to drop out of the running for dickhead of the year and get yourself sorted out before it’s too late.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to her.”
“Think, Ben. Just think. How the hell are you going to explain this to your kid in five or ten years’ time, hmm? That your baby momma doesn’t talk to you because you spent her entire pregnancy hiding behind a bottle and getting blown by groupies?”
My stomach contracted sharply. There we go. I knew he’d been with other women, of course. It still hurt, however.
“It’s not like that,” yelled Ben.
“It’s exactly like that. Give me a fucking break, dude. Just because I don’t come to your nightly soirees doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on here. Hell, anyone can see it.”
Silence again from Ben.
“I don’t know if you want her or not. But I’m telling you now, you’re gonna lose her, and you’re gonna lose your kid, and any shred of self-respect you might still have along with them. Your parents were useless, same as mine, so you know what it’s like. Get your shit together.”
The bedroom door opened, the noise from the party coming in clearer.
“Lizzy wants to hang with Lena, just bring her on over. She’s welcome any time.”
Ben didn’t reply.
Noise from the party dropped in volume once again as the bedroom door closed. Then there came the boom. Once, twice, three times. I stared at the bathroom door in surprise, with just a small dash of fear. It’d been damn loud.
Might be time for me to go.
“Liz, can I come in?”
“It’s not locked,” I told the door.
Ever so slowly the handle turned. Then Ben stuck his head in as if he was expecting more projectiles, liquid or otherwise, to be lobbed his way.
“It’s safe,” I said.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
He said no more, instead turning to the sink to wash off his face and neck. Guess I’d done a good job of juicing him, because he stripped off the Arizona T-shirt and tossed it aside. Next, he spent some time washing his hands.
Only then did he approach. “Mind if I join you?”
I shrugged. “It’s your bath.”
With a sigh, he climbed in and sat down opposite me at the other end of the tub. I tucked my legs up, ensuring he had plenty of room without us being required to touch. He stretched out his long legs on either side of mine, gaze glued to my face. What a sight we must have made, me fully dressed in the dry tub and him in his jeans and big black boots. Man, he had a nice chest. I did my best not to notice, but some things are beyond my control. A half-naked Ben was most definitely one of them. The fight with Jim, however, concerned me. As did the raw pink knuckles of his right hand. These guys obviously enjoyed hitting walls when they got testy. I could remember Mal once doing the same. Males. So violent.
Because of course I hadn’t thrown anything at anybody lately.
“Take it you heard me and Jim fighting,” he said.
“Hard not to.”
A nod.
“He was right about one thing: it’s been a while since we talked. I mean really talked.”
“Yeah.”
No one spoke for a moment. I sure as hell wasn’t going first. Right in that moment, I just wasn’t that brave.
“I, um … shit’s been busy with the tour.” He stretched his arms out around the edge of the tub, obviously getting as comfortable as hard ceramic and the situation would allow. A small line of blood down his right hand, ignored. “Weeks leading up to it, Adrian had us talking to every damn reporter in the country. It was insane.”
“Oh.”
“The producers think the music just makes itself. Once Dave’s written the songs, they think it’s a round or two in the studio and we’re done. But that’s bullshit. Takes hours, sometimes days, to get the sound right.” Fervor shone bright in his eyes, beyond the booze and whatever. His passion for the music. “Dave used to be a perfectionist about it too, but all of the guys are distracted now, eyes on the clock, wanting to get home to their women. I’m the one sitting there with Dean and Tyler till four in the fucking morning, getting it perfect.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“It is. Jimmy and Mal go off onstage and Dave’s still the poet writing the songs. In the band, it’s all down to me now, though, to work the sound.” He scratched at his chin. “Know it makes me sound like a self-congratulating art geek, but it’s important, you know? Whatever we put out there, I need to know in my gut it’s the best we’ve got.”
“I can understand that.”
“Wasn’t avoiding you, Liz, but I wasn’t putting any effort into seeing you, either. You might have noticed.”
“Right.”
“Thought I’d let things with Mal and Anne calm down. That’s just another excuse, though.” Dark eyes bored into me, as if he could see my soul. Who knows, maybe he could. I always felt too open, too exposed, around him. He made me so messy with all these wants and needs. I don’t know if it was love that I felt for him or lust. But whatever it was, it sucked.
“I’m sorry, Liz,” he said, his soft, deep voice filling the room. “I said I’d have your back and I didn’t. I disappeared on you again, and this time you were actually going through shit. Serious shit.”
Huh.
“Jimmy was right. You shouldn’t have had to go through it alone.”
“It wasn’t so bad.” I turned away. A lot of emotion for one day. “I had Anne.”
“Yeah, but this is our baby, and Anne isn’t me.”
I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, nice and slow, trying to calm my racing heart. It was true. His absence had left a bruise, and no amount of go-girl lectures delivered in the bathroom mirror could alter the fact.
“Is she?” he asked.
“No, Ben, she’s not.”
He slowly nodded, like something had been decided.
“So what now?” I asked.
“Talk to me.” The fingers of his left hand flicked and fiddled with the hard upper rim of the bathtub. Nerves or what, I had no idea. At least the blood from the knuckles on his right hand had dried.
“About what?”
“All the stuff I should have been hearing the past month.” The man was serious. Very much so. “No more of this useless fucking texting, Liz. Talk to me. Right now, face-to-face. Help me prove Jim wrong.”
Give him another chance.
I stared at him, lost, my brain searching for the words. Any easily retrieved information lacked in either dignity or strength. Ah, man. Could I trust him with my weaknesses and issues? That was the question.
“C’mon. How have you been, really? What’s been going on with you?” he pushed. I frowned at him and he frowned right back. “Liz, please.”
I groaned in defeat. “All right, I suck.”
“Why do you suck?”
“So very many reasons.” I pushed my hair back from my face—no more hiding. “Pregnancy sucks. It’s natural, my ass. I finally stop throwing up, but I’m tired all the time. Giving up coffee was horrendous. None of my clothes fit right because of these stupid breasts, and they ache constantly. I have to pee like every thirty seconds, and then to top it off, I cry every time the Healthy Hound ad comes on. It’s ridiculous.”
Little wrinkles appeared either side of his nose. “You cry at a dog food ad?”
“Yes. The puppies jump all over each other to get to their mother and it’s just so beautiful, with their cute little tails wagging and everything.”
He just stared at me.
“I know it’s psycho, Ben. Believe me, I’m well aware of this.”
“Hey, it’s fine.” He covered a smile with his hand. Too late, the bastard.
“You try dealing with all these hormones going apeshit. Crap. Apeshoot.”
“Apeshoot?”
“I’m trying not to swear,” I explained. “You want the first word our child comes out with to be something bad?”
“No. Gotcha.” The man was incredibly bad at hiding a grin. “No swearing.”
Jerk. I narrowed my eyes on him, holding back my own smile.
“I’m taking you seriously. I am.” He flat-out lied. Though it was rather nice to see him smile and to hear his low laugh. At least the bad mood was gone.
“And my ankles are all fat and gross,” I said. “It’s ridiculous.”
“What? Show me.” A giant paw grabbed hold of my limb, dragging it onto his lap. Without preamble he pushed up the leg of my jeans and wrestled off my sandal, dropping it out onto the floor. “It looks fine. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“I’m retaining fluid. It’s disgusting.”
One-handed, he flipped back his long, dark fringe, giving me a look most dubious.
“Let go of my foot, please. I don’t want you to see it.”
He slowly shook his head. “This what you’ve been doing the last month? Talking yourself into crazy shit and crying at dog food ads?”
“My ankle is distinctly thicker, Ben. And I explained about the dog food ad. Give me my foot back.”
“No.” He tucked one leg underneath the other and rested my foot atop it before proceeding to rub my toes. Damn, that felt good. The man had incredibly strong fingers. Must have been a result of all that bass playing. Thumbs dug in deep to the arch of my foot and my spine basically melted. Heaven, nirvana—I had it all within my grasp so long as he kept doing his thing.
“God, that’s so nice,” I happy-sighed, sinking further into the tub.
He made a gruff noise. It could have almost been construed as the word good.
“Is your hand all right?” I asked eventually.
He looked up at me from beneath dark brows, lips shut. His magic fingers paused for a moment, then kept right on kneading. “I might have put a hole or two in the wall after Jim left.”
“Oh.”
“He was right. You’ve been dealing with this on your own from the start and all I’ve done is throw money at the problem, hoping it would go away.” He moved down to rubbing at my heel, taking care with the swollen ankle. “I didn’t want to know, Liz. That’s why I kept my distance. I just wanted to go on like normal, pretend none of it was happening.”
“Me too. But my body keeps messing things up for me.” I laughed, despite the topic being distinctly unfunny. “We’re not that different, Ben. This situation has thrown us both for a loop, and that’s putting it mildly.”
“Don’t make excuses for me,” he grumped.
“All right, you’re an asshole and you let me down. Again. Feel better?”
The smile was much wider this time. “Thought we weren’t swearing.”
“Oops.” It was amazing what a foot rub did for my mood. Right then, I pretty much loved the whole world. Real anger lay beyond my reach. He grasped my other foot, again rolling up my jeans, and tossed aside the sandal. I did not fight him—no sir, no way.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said.
“Shoot.”
“Why didn’t you ever want children?”
“Because this is me, Liz. What you see is what you get. I like things calm, easy. But you and me, we’ve never been easy. Minute I saw you, it’s been complicated. First with Mal, and you being a little younger, more serious, and now with the pregnancy.” He shook his head. “Some women don’t give a shit if I come and go. It’s all good. But with you and the baby, you need more from me than that. And you deserve more.”
“We’re messing with your lifestyle.”
He looked up at me from beneath drawn brows. “It’s more than that. Shit. Never tried to explain this to someone before. When you were a kid, did you ever have some game you played that just rocked your world? And you’d wake up in the morning and realize today was the day you got to do nothing but play that game all day, and it was like life could never get better? That’s what my life is like. Every day I get to get up and play music, I get to create something.”
I nodded sadly, finally understanding. Ben was a man living his dream. As if anyone could compete with that. Maybe he’d liked the idea of me. Reality was, however, there’d never been room for me in his life.
“When the guys are busy, I can hop on a plane and go mix things up with another band,” he continued. “Fill in or be a guest on their album. Even jamming with strangers in some shitty little bar where no one knows my name. That’s my life, every day. I get to make something new, learn something. And it’s fucking amazing. There’s nothing like it.”
“Sounds great.”
“It is,” he said. “And that’s why I never thought about kids. Even a girlfriend seemed too much of a distraction. Don’t get me wrong, I like women. But it was always easier to find someone for the night than to commit to something that stops me from being who I am, doing what I love.”
I nodded. What was there to say? To go into a relationship expecting the other person to change was stupid. Ben and I had been over before we began, I just hadn’t known it, understood, until now. No doubt he liked me just fine, but not enough.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to be there for you and our kid. You said we could be friends,” he said. “That offer still available?”
Friends was the right thing to do. I pushed aside my disappointment and put a smile on my face. “Absolutely.”
“I’d like that.”
It was me and Bean, and Bean and me. Come what may, I’d have my baby girl’s back. Her daddy could do what he would. And the truth was, if he kept massaging my feet this way, I’d be his best damn friend, despite the break in my heart.
He kept his face down, his concentration on the task complete. Generally my feet were not that fascinating. Maybe he did have a foot fetish after all. Fingers drew soothing circles over my crappy ankle before digging in once more to the arch of my foot. Total and complete bliss. I could pretty much feel my crazy baby hormones rolling over and offering up their soft underbelly to him, preening and calling him Daddy, the dirty things. What this man’s hands could do to me. Every part of me felt floaty and wonderful. Shivery good even.
Wait up. Crap, I was seriously turned on.
A wounded heart was apparently no competition for an overeager vagina. The urge for sperm made no sense. I already had a baby on board. My tarty, attention-seeking nipples stood out loud and proud beneath my top, just begging for his lips. The situation between my legs wasn’t any better. Since when had my feet become such hard-core, triple X–rated erogenous zones? His able hands made sweet pornographic love to my toes, and my muscles turned to jelly. My legs just fell open in invitation. Beyond my control, I swear. It all just felt so impossibly damn good.
Holy god damn hell. No one had warned me pregnancy could send you into heat.
Despite the ecstasy, I couldn’t help but notice there was only like three … four inches between the pad of my foot and the bulge behind the fly of his jeans. It wouldn’t take much to touch. Why, little more than a flex would be more than sufficient. I could just brush my toes against the poor man’s crotch and then gasp, pretending it was all some silly (wonderful) accident. Oops, clumsy me, fondling the innocent, unsuspecting man’s genitals with my foot. How embarrassing—though really it could happen to anyone.
Not.
And really this is partly why, in my experience, friends don’t rub friends’ feet unless there’s more going on. I got easily enough confused about the man, no need to make it worse.
A small moan slipped my lips, echoing in the tiled room.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“You made a noise.”
“No, I didn’t.”
A little line appeared above his nose. “Okay.”
“That’s great,” I said, drawing my now slutty limbs back to the safe side of the tub. “Thanks. Very kind of you. I think we’ll make great friends.”
He gave me a long look. “Any time. If you need something, I want you to tell me. That’s the only way this is going to work.”
“Okay.” I needed his naked body at my disposal. Now.
“I want total honesty from you, okay?”
“Total honesty.” So help me, I’d ride him all the way home and back again.
“From now on, we talk,” he said. “All the fucking time. Yap, yap, yap. That’s us.”
“Got it.”
“Great.” The way his tongue and lips played with that simple little word, it meant much, much more than it was ever meant to. And it might have been my imagination, but I’m pretty damn sure his pupils were about twice their normal size. They were like twin pools of black rock ’n’ roll sexiness and desire just inviting me to jump on in and get all wet and wild and wanton. All of a sudden, breathing seemed to be an issue for me. Same with thinking, clearly. I don’t know what it was about the man that made me attempt to get poetic. But it really needed to stop.
“I better go,” I said.
“Fucking crazy…” he muttered.
“What?”
“You.”
I groaned in embarrassment. “Come on, give me a break. I explained about the dog food ad. And hey, I told you that in confidence too. Don’t you dare repeat it.”
“Not talking about that,” he said, the hint of a curve in the corner of his mouth doing dreadful things to me.
“What then?” I asked, both wanting and dreading knowing.
He hesitated, hiding another smile behind his hurt hand.
“Total honesty. Come on.”
“Pretty sure you don’t want to hear me talking about my dick.”
“Your, um, your dick?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh. How much have you had to drink?”
“Not nearly enough for this.” The smile he gave me, I nearly came on the spot. The fact that it came framed in his particularly sleek-looking beard almost did me in. I knew exactly how his facial hair felt against me. So stimulating. Never had I wanted to rub my cheek and other pertinent parts against someone’s face more. When it came to that night in Vegas, my memory was way too good.
“You asked if I’d had sex since I found out about the baby,” he said. “Answer’s no.”
“Yeah right.” I laughed.
“I’m serious. Nothing since that night. Haven’t even come close.”
Wow. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Guess I lost my libido.” He scratched at his chin. “Wasn’t even interested. Just … nothing.”
“You couldn’t get it up?” I asked, mildly horrified, and much too curious. Ben always seemed so virile.
“I didn’t want to get it up,” he said. “There’s a difference.”
“Huh. But Jimmy said—”
“Jimmy doesn’t know everything.” He cracked his neck, irritation in his gaze. “Wish you hadn’t heard all that.”
I couldn’t truthfully say the same. Their conversation had been most enlightening.
“I couldn’t get interested in screwing anyone because I was worried about you and the baby,” he said. “Dealing with all this has been big, you know?”
“Yeah. Sex having consequences is kind of a bummer.” I smiled. “I guess I’ve been pretty sheltered, really. Anne always dealt with the serious stuff. But this time she can’t. It’s all on me.”
“And me.”
“Yes.” Time would tell.
“Anyway,” he said. “Just thought you’d find it funny.”
“That you were suffering from erectile dysfunction? Ben, there’s no way I’d find that funny.”
“It’s wasn’t erectile dysfunction, Liz,” he said with a wounded gaze. “Don’t say that.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.”
“I was just numb. Lost my interest in sex for a while.”
“Right. Numb.”
“Anyway,” he said, still frowning. Male egos. So touchy. “Soon as I’m around you again, my dick decides to come out of hibernation. Thank fuck. Was worried I’d have to wait till you’d had the baby to get it back.”
“Yeah. Phew.” I thought the information over for a while. Not necessarily good news—for me, at least. The other women of the world would probably benefit greatly by it, however. “Well, we did talk out some of our issues, so it’s entirely natural that you’d be feeling better about the situation, I suppose.”
He screwed up his face. “Sweetheart, I’m not talking about us being friends, though that’s nice and all. I’m talking about the fact that you turn me on. Have since the minute I met you. Physically, you get to me.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, you do. I’m just going to have to channel that interest elsewhere.”
My mouth worked, though nothing came out for a while. I got to him. God, if only he knew how much he still got to me. Hope was well out of my price range, however. I couldn’t afford to get physical with him. My emotions were far too involved, and clearly the man was only out for some fun. Without a doubt, I knew that now.
“Ben, are you sure this isn’t some mental block you were having,” I asked. “All the worry about the pregnancy and how it was going to affect things, as opposed to me physically?”
He raised a brow.
“Hey, I’ve seen some of those women out there,” I said. “They’re stunning. And if they’ve been hanging around you night after night, then it seems unlikely that me with my beginner’s baby bump and fat ankles suddenly lights up your life.”
His tongue played behind his cheek and he said nothing. There was definitely laughter in his eyes, however.
“I’m just trying to be rational,” I added.
“Problem is, rational doesn’t come into it.”
Hmm.
“Dicks don’t have brains. It’s why men get into trouble.”
The man had a point. Dicks obviously didn’t have emotions, either, the annoying things.
“The point I’m messing up here is, Liz, you’re right. I was jealous. I want you. I’m not going to act on that because shit’s complicated enough and we’re working on being friends here. It’s what’s best for the baby.”
“Right.” What he said was no less than the truth. Still, my vagina went into a deep depression. My heart wasn’t too happy about it, either.
“The business is hell on relationships—all the separations and everything. Couples don’t last. Seen it time and time again. I don’t want to put our kid through some messy split and neither do you.”
“What?” I cocked my head. “You really mean that. But what about David and Ev?”
“Time’ll tell.”
My eyes were wide. “I think that’s sad, Ben.”
“Trust me, Liz. What’s best for our kid right now is you and me working on having a long-term relationship we can both live with. That means us being friends and figuring out how to be parents together, right?”
“Right. I guess.”
“I know I’m not the psychology student here, but I also think it would really help if you didn’t get with any of my friends or people I work with. Ever. I think that would, ah, complicate things.”
“Yes. Fair enough.”
“And I won’t hook up with any of your friends, either. Ever.”
“Thanks.”
He tipped his chin in acknowledgment.
“Wow, we’re really going great, setting up the friendship boundaries,” I said.
A smile.
“This should all work perfectly.” Heartbreakingly so.
“I hope so,” he said.
“Might be best if we didn’t talk about your penis and sex between us again in the future, though. Maybe we should tone back the total honesty just a little.”
He winced. “You’re right. My bad. No need to confuse shit.”
“No problem.”
He held out his right hand to me, knuckles pink and large fingers calloused. “Friends?”
“You bet. Being friends will be great.”