to talk about it, but it’s a music thing.”
I stare at the screen. He’s not supposed to talk about it? Even with me, the woman carrying his child? “What kind of music thing?”
He looks like he wants to say more, but he pauses before he lets it out. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“If I haven’t proven over the last two months that you can trust me, then what are we even doing?” I counter.
“You know the band MFB?” he asks.
“Of course I know MFB. Everyone knows MFB. Wait a minute...do they want you to be on Rock on the Road?” I ask, naming the reality show the band has starred on for two seasons.
“Sort of.” He looks uncomfortable.
“Sort of?” I ask.
“They’re running a special season of the show while they look for a bassist. They’re calling it The Replacement War and it’s a battle of the bassists.”
“Oh.” I frown because I’m still not getting it. “How long will that take?”
“Anywhere from a week to a month, and they’ll take my phone as soon as I walk in the doors.”
“A month? Why are they taking your phone if you’re guest starring?”
He sighs then shakes his head. “I’m not guest starring. I’m competing.”
“You’re competing?” I’m epically confused. “I don’t get it. You already play bass in a pretty successful band, Tyler. One you love.” It’s his entire life. This makes literally zero sense to me.
“Yeah, I know.” He glances away with guilt. “Tommy thinks it’ll be good exposure for us.”
“So you’re going on a reality show to compete for a prize you have no intention of winning,” I say flatly.
He nods as he presses his lips together. “Yeah. That pretty much sums it up.”
“Tyler, you can’t do that.” I don’t go into all the reasons this is a bad idea, but in my head, I tick them off one by one.
He’s stepping on someone else’s chance.
He’s walking away from his own band.
He’s making himself look like a complete asshole. Maybe he’s actually being a complete asshole.
He’ll be gone anywhere from a week to a month. I’ll be anywhere from ten weeks to fourteen weeks pregnant by the time he’s done, and he doesn’t even know.
I can’t hold that one against him, I guess...but in the last nine weeks, I’ve had this date looming ahead, knowing I’d finally get my chance when his tour with Capital Kingsmen wrapped. That date came closer and closer, and it’s just within my grasp now...and he’s pulling it away.
Ripping it away, actually.
Shoving it down a deep, dark hole.
Anger flares in my veins.
He can’t do this.
“I have to,” he says. It’s too hard to tell over video chat in the darkness of his bunk if he has any regret about it, but his next words make me think he doesn’t. “The label owns me, and they’re on board with me doing this. They think it’ll help ratings. It was Tommy’s idea, and Brett and Dustin both think it’s a smart move, too. So even if I wanted an out, I don’t have one. Besides, I think they’re right. All press is good press, Dani.”
All press is good press.
A shudder runs through me. Will the fact that he’s this baby’s father just be another item for the press? Will having a baby with a celebrity mean my child will always be in the spotlight?
How do I protect the baby from all that?
It’s not the first time I’ve thought any of that, but I suddenly feel very alone. He’ll be gone up to thirty days in a house he shouldn’t be in...and I’ll be over here growing our baby.
How do I even tell him the news now? I’ve been pregnant for nine weeks. I could’ve told him any time over the last two months, and I didn’t. I chose to wait. And now if I say something, it’s going to seem like I’m just telling him to get my way.
Baby news should be happy news, not a way to manipulate.
I draw in a deep breath as I try to calm myself, but I can feel hysterics rising in my chest. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to turn. I want to tell him—I need to tell him, not just so he knows but so I have him to lean on.
But it took one conversation to show me that maybe I won’t have him to lean on.
“You always have an out,” I counter. He might be owned by his label and his band, but he still has a