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.