my little chicken nugget. And you’ve got me. No matter what. Doctor’s visits, feeding you ice chips, holding your hair back. Whatever. You’re my bestie and I’m in for every minute of it.” He leans over for an awkward side-hug, and I squeeze him.
“Thank you,” I say. “Because I’ll need you now more than ever.”
“I know,” he says. “Now get your pregnant ass back to work.”
I giggle and stand to leave his office, and on my way back to my own office, I run into Ford, the new guy in our marketing department.
“Hey, Danielle,” he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he shoots me a smile.
I melt a little. He’s not just handsome...he’s freaking hot.
“Do you have plans tonight?” he asks.
Sitting by the phone waiting to see if Tyler’s going to call so I can ignore it doesn’t sound like the best use of my time. “Not really,” I admit.
“Let’s grab a drink after work.”
I can’t. I’m pregnant.
I almost say the words, but I refrain. I can’t tell if he’s asking me on a date or if this is just a colleague sort of happy hour type thing.
The venue doesn’t have a show booked tonight, which means I’m free to leave at four, though honestly I stick around longer than that most days. It’s how I ended up as the assistant manager here. I’m willing to put in long hours because after my break-up (and really, the year or so leading up to it), I didn’t really have anything to go home to.
But in seven months, I’ll have a baby to go home to. A baby that I can’t take to the office. A baby I’ll need to care for.
I’m already terrified that Tyler will think I’m just after his money. That’s not it at all. I don’t care about his money.
I don’t know anything about babies. I’ve changed exactly one diaper in my entire life, my niece Grace’s, and it was an easy one.
I have no idea what’s in store for me, and I don’t even know where to go to research what I don’t know without running into a million horror stories.
Ford’s still looking at me expectantly as he waits for my answer.
“Okay, sure,” I say, and I don’t know why those are the words that choose to fall out of my mouth, but they are and now I have a date after work.
He shoots me that panty-dropper smile of his and toddles off on his merry way, and I’m left trying to figure out whether or not to tell my date that I’m knocked up.
CHAPTER 4
TYLER
PRESENT DAY
“Thank you, London!” Tommy yells, and the four of us take our final bows before we run offstage. A couple roadies are waiting with fresh towels, and I wipe my face.
It may only be seventy-one degrees outside, but I just ran around a stage under bright lights in the humid weather of London for the last two hours. I’m ready for a shower, a cold beer, and sleep.
But only two of those things are actually on the agenda. Sleep will have to wait for another day.
Life on the road is hard, but it’s even harder when you’ve been away from home for two long years.
We run back to our dressing room, or, as it’s called here in London, our changing room, which is really a locker room with a little section portioned off for us so we feel less like a soccer team and more like the band we are. I take a quick shower, just like every shower on the road, and then we’re scheduled to make an appearance at a private party.
I think of her again as I pull a plain black shirt over my head. It’s one of those brief flashes of her face that seems to hit me at the most inopportune times, like now—when I have a job to do. I’ve tried to let her go, but I just...can’t. Other women, flings, one-nighters, failed attempts at forming relationships, copious amounts of alcohol, weed, other shit...nothing has worked. Nothing has helped me forget.
I haven’t seen her in two years. I haven’t even spoken to her in two years.
Soon we’ll be back in the States, and then at least I can try again.
“You want a smoke first?” Tommy, our lead singer, asks once I meet the rest of my band in the main area of our dressing room.
I shake my head. It’s not gonna help and it’s just gonna make me foggy tomorrow, so it’s not