Lying here with Elizabeth in my arms was the most natural thing I’d felt in a long time. Every breath brought the scent of her perfume into my nose, filling my senses as she snuggled up against me, eyes closed. We’d just finished another round together, our bodies still loosely entwined as our chests rose and fell in perfect harmony. I basked in her glow, in the radiant warmth of her sleepy bliss.

I’d never been more satisfied by sex. Then again, sex for me had never amounted to much more than a means to an end, an opportunity to feel wanted for just a little while. What Liz and I had done meant more than that. She meant more than that.

For the first time in my life, I finally felt that maybe I could just be something else other than a rock star, a sex symbol, or even a celebrity. Maybe, with her, I could be Julian Bastille and no one else.

Would that be enough for her? It was hard, even for me, to tell. I hadn’t made any effort in years to be “just Julian.” I couldn’t begin to surmise what kind of a man I was without my rock star persona—the one I’d hardly ever let drop in more than a decade of performing. Who was the man behind the mask, and was he the kind of man she’d want to stick around? Was he the kind of man worthy of being a husband and a father?

All I knew was that since Liz had come into my life, I was beginning to feel like someone new, someone I actually liked. I wasn’t the boozehound that spent weeks drunk off of his ass, picking up groupies after his sets—I was someone who took responsibility for the things that he did, someone who wanted to make sure Liz thought well of him. That wasn’t the Julian Bastille that I’d been only a week before, and in every way possible, I was glad of it.

She’s the first person who’s ever made me feel like I could be something more than just a pretty face on a stage, I thought, coursing my fingers through her hair as she began to wake up from her post-coital nap. I smiled, brushing the back of my hand down along the line of her jaw as her eyes fluttered open, a smile already pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Hi,” she said, voice husky from her nap. I couldn’t help but smile back down at her as she leaned against my touch.

“Hello, Mrs. Bastille,” I said, my sweet smile turning into a mischievous grin as she rolled her eyes—though for once, it didn’t seem out of derision, but rather a valiant effort to hide her widening smile.

“I’m never going to get used to that,” she said, trailing her fingers up over my arm. “Not being Liz Lawson is going to be so weird.”

“I guess there are a lot of things we’re going to have to get used to,” I said, toying with a lock of her hair. “Where we’re going to live, how we want to raise our kid… just being parents in general. It’s a hell of a lot to take in.”

Liz nodded. “It is. And while this has been a distraction of the best kind…” She bit her lip. “We’re going to have to venture back out into the real world, eventually.”

She was right, of course. We couldn’t stay cooped up in this hotel room forever, as fun as such a thing sounded. We both had business to attend to, responsibilities we had to own up to. But it had been nice, for a little while, to imagine a world in which we only owed things to each other. I hoped to make that fantasy become reality someday. For both our sakes.

“You’re worried about something specific,” I noted, narrowing my eyes at her. “I can tell. What’s on your mind, love?” I grinned. “Or should I be working on wiping it blank again?”

Her cheeks colored. “Maybe not just now, but…” I saw her glance down my body, a spark of intrigue in her eyes. That was good enough for me—the fact that she was still interested. I didn’t want a repeat of our first time together where she went slinking off into the sunset. “I was thinking about the baby.”

I propped myself up on an elbow. “Tell me.” She rolled onto her back and I draped my other arm across her, my palm against her stomach. “Come on, love. I want to know.”

Liz hedged for a moment, and I wondered if she was going to close right back up again, start hiding things from me. I wanted to be in the loop so badly, wanted more than anything to be considered worthy enough to be part of her world. Hers, and this child’s. Hell, I wanted it to be our world, our lives merged in the same way our bodies had been. I anxiously awaited her response, hoping like hell I’d actually get one.

Finally, she said, “It just feels so surreal,” and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. She must have noticed, because she chuckled. “I’m sorry. I’m having trouble putting it into words.”

“Take your time,” I said, feeling significantly more secure now that I knew she wasn’t clamming up on me. I began kissing along the curve of her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She let me dote on her for several long minutes, shivering and cooing every time I gusted a light, hot breath against the fine hairs on her arms and nape. It felt good to give her such a sensual experience without anything in return, without any expectations on either of our ends. I let my fingers wander across her hips, finding the places where her skin was thinnest and stroking the nerve endings there.

“I guess I’m having a hard time connecting to all of this,” she admitted, squirming cutely under my touch. “I know what my doctor said. And I know I’ve got all the symptoms. But so much of it just doesn’t seem like it’s really happening, or if it is, it almost feels like it’s happening to someone else.” She looked up at me and sighed. “I feel like a bad woman.”

I laughed at that. Maybe it was a little cruel, but I couldn’t help it. The idea of Liz being a bad anything was so absurd. “You’re going to have to explain that one to me, I’m afraid.”

Scrunching her nose, she huffed. “It’s hard to want to explain anything at all when you laugh at me.”

I held up my hand in a disarming gesture. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just think you’re the cats pyjamas, and I don’t understand how anyone could ever think otherwise—even you.” She rolled her eyes and I kissed that wrinkled nose of hers. “I’ll spare you the laughter this time. Promise. Just know it came from the heart.”

“Mm,” she said, a noncommittal answer if I’d ever heard one. Then she shrugged. “Every time I’ve heard women talk about being pregnant, they say there’s this… inherent connection between them and the baby. They can feel them all the time, sense them, like they’ve got this… this intrinsic bond before the kid’s even born.” Her voice went real quiet and she looked away from me. “I don’t have that.”

I laid my head down on the pillow beside her and thought a moment, twisting my fingers softly around her navel. “You ever think those women are exaggerating, love? Maybe trying to make the experience more glamorous, spiritual, and mystical than it actually is? Not to say that carrying a child’s not special, but…”

Liz shrugged again. “They seem to believe it.” I tried a different approach.

“Well, if pregnancy is so personal and unique… then maybe there’s no universal way to experience it.” She glanced at me, and I continued. “Those women. Would you say they’re the, ah… emotional sort? Not in a bad way, just—they rule with their hearts, more than their heads?”

She nodded. “I guess.”

“There you are, then,” I said triumphantly. “You, my dear, are the practical sort. Rational. Head over heart.” I kissed the crown of her head as if I could reach her brain, and she giggled. “No wonder your experience is so different. You’re different. And there’s not a bloody thing wrong with that.”

“Thanks,” Liz said in a thoughtful, drawn-out way. The look on her face resembled a kind of bemusement. “I wasn’t actually expecting you to make me feel so much better about that.”

I held my hand over my chest, as if wounded. “Your vote of confidence moves me.” She sucked her teeth and I winked in reply.

“Still…” When she looked away, I spied a bit of wistfulness replacing her indignance. “I do wish I had something… something like evidence… to make me feel like all this was real. Something tangible. Something…” She wet her lips, and I could tell she was struggling to put together what she meant. Poor Liz still wasn’t so good where feelings were concerned, I could tell. “I dunno. Maybe something I could see.”

I frowned, looking skyward as I considered this. What she was saying made perfect sense to me. As the father of the child in question, I felt so far removed from the experience that it all seemed a little unreal to me, as well. I’d figured that would fade in time, that as Liz began to show and the baby began to kick, the whole thing would come into focus for me. I could wait for that.

But to know that she was in the same boat… that made me want to act. Made me want to do something for her that would speed up the process, give her the clarity she desired now. I was swiftly learning that I had no patience when it came to Liz’s whims. Whatever she wanted, I wanted to give to her. Immediately, if not sooner.

Out of that desire, a solution was born. I blinked, a bit shocked that I’d been the one of us to think of it, but pleasantly so. This was my opportunity to be impressive out of the bedroom. I grinned at her slyly, rolled halfway on top of her, and said:

“No worries, love. I think I know just the thing.”