CHAPTER NINE
After Saint Louis came Washington, DC, followed by Philadelphia. It took until then for me to fully get my bounce back and to forgive Mal. Well, to begin to forgive Mal. As much as everyone else liked to rationalize it, the memory of him driving his fist into Ben’s gut still felt too fresh. My bitch-slapping hand started to twitch every time he came near. I couldn’t help it.
Ben and I living together had not been the astronomical step toward a bright and beautiful romantic future I might have secretly, stupidly hoped for.
But that was my problem, not his.
There’d definitely been no more hugging. As a roommate, he was very polite—and frequently absent. Yep, Ben was a busy boy. He’d emerge from his room grizzly and bed-headed at nine and we’d have breakfast together, which was nice. For an hour or so we’d chat over pancakes or eggs Benedict or whatever. Conversation usually revolved around my health and the movie I’d watched the night before. Then he’d disappear to “do band shit.” I don’t quite know what he did, but apparently it took him all day and well into the night. So I’d taken to sitting up in front of the TV, hoping to catch him when he came in at whatever time. Instead, I’d wake up tucked into my own bed, come morning.
All very friendly. I just needed to adjust. Still. And damn it, tonight I would. Tonight, my crush on him came to an end. It had to. The man really was hell on my heart and loins.
“Remind me again why we’re here,” said Anne, slipping her arm around my shoulders.
“To party.”
“We’re here to party?”
“How could you doubt it?” I smoothed the big, flowy black T-shirt down over my small bump of a belly.
“So long as we’re not here to spy on Ben.”
I scoffed. “As if I’d do that.”
“’Cause you’re so over him.”
“Big-time. Huge. We’re friends.”
Anne made a humming noise. “Friends don’t let friends stalk their friends.”
“You and I aren’t friends, we’re sisters. Totally different.” My jaw cracked on a particularly large yawn. Ugh. This growing a baby stuff really took it out of you. “You have to suck it up and support me no matter what crackpot crap I do.”
“You two still sharing the suite but not the bedroom, huh?”
“Do you really want to know?” I asked, curious.
She sighed. “You’re pregnant with his baby. I give up. Of all the males I might have chosen for you, he’s not even remotely on the list. But at the end of the day, it’s your choice, not mine.”
I nodded, pleased.
“I just want you to know, you have options.” Just like when we were kids, Anne twirled a lock of my hair around a finger and gave it a tug. I slapped at her hand, same as I’d always done. She grabbed my fingers and held on tight. “Mal and I have been talking. However you want to do this, we’re happy to support you. Whether that’s move in with us or whatever.”
“I appreciate that.”
“And on the off chance you and Ben can’t work things out, you don’t need to worry about money.”
“Ben wouldn’t leave me hanging like that, Anne.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I know. But trust me, I don’t need to worry about money.”
“No. You don’t.”
“Yeah, I really don’t,” I said, turning to face her. “He put six figures in my account before the tour started.”
“Huh.” The whites of Anne’s eyes were showing. “Good. This makes me think better of the bearded wonder.”
“Mm.” It was a step up from her calling him the Sperminator, at least.
We sat huddled together in a single large lounge chair, watching the postconcert party get going. When I’d moved into Ben’s two-bedroom suite, the party had changed location to the room of Down Fourth’s singer. He shared the smaller suite with his girlfriend, the band’s drummer. She’d been more than welcoming, if a little surprised, when we knocked on the door.
I had the worst feeling that Anne was right, though, and I shouldn’t have come. Not to this room, this tour, none of it. Also, apparently my mood currently registered around the shitty level. Shooty. No, that didn’t work. Crappy. Yes, crappy made for a suitable non-sweary replacement.
“I hate that I have to be looked after, that all of a sudden I’m no longer me, I’m a condition, a baby-making machine.” I leaned my head against Anne’s with a Poor me sigh. “Should have stayed in Portland and worked in the bookstore. I don’t belong here.”
“Of course you belong here. Don’t be a dolt.”
I gave her a half smile. “I sound pathetic. Quick, slap me with a wet fish or something.”
“If only I had one handy. This baby sure makes you an interesting person to be around. I never know what mood I’ll get next.”
“You have no idea. I need to get laid so bad … my dreams are just one endless stream of pornography.”
“Oh-kay. So go on, talk to me about him. I’ll try to be open-minded.”
“There’s not much to say.”
“You two looked pretty cozy when he stormed the castle to rescue you from your evil sister and brother-in-law.”
I raised my brows.
“Sorry,” she said. “When he pushed his way in because he was worried about you—kudos to him for caring—you two looked like you were getting on well. I take it this is no longer the case, since you’re clearly unhappy and we’re lurking here, waiting for him to appear.”
“We’re very polite. We’re always texting, he checks on me constantly, and if I need him he’s there. But … I don’t know. It’s not like we’re really saying anything. We share the same space but we’re living at a distance. He does his thing, I do mine. He gets up and goes, comes back in the early hours after drinking here with these guys.”
She frowned.
How to explain it? It was all such a mess. “Thing is, I can’t get over him when I’m living with him. The proximity doesn’t work. It just turns me into some perverted weirdo, hopped up on pregnancy hormones, sniffing his dirty laundry.”
“You sniffed his dirty laundry?” Anne gave me a look of much judgment.
“It was only a shirt.”
She cleared her throat. “Right. Okay.”
“Anyway, it doesn’t feel right, the way things are. I invaded his private space, taking up the offer of moving in. It was a bad move. So I’ve been thinking about either heading home or getting my own room.”
“Don’t leave. Move back in with me and Mal. I promise we’ll keep the sex noises under control.”
“No way. I still get these horrible flashbacks of that night and wake up crying, terrified that some sexed-up howler monkey is going to attack me.” The sniggering—I couldn’t contain it if I tried. So I didn’t.
“Funny,” she said drily.
“Thanks. I amuse me.”
“I hate the thought of you being on your own.”
“I know. But I’m going to be a single parent, Anne. I am on my own, it’s a fact of life. Time I got used to it.” I shrugged. “I know you and Mal want to do what you can, and I appreciate it. I do. Bean’s lucky. She’s going to have an awesome extended family with all of you guys.”
“She really is.”
I gave Anne’s knee a friendly squeeze. “I’m glad we could talk about this. I’ve missed talking to you.”
“Sorry I was so judgy. It was just hard, with all our plans for you to study and everything.”
“Yeah, I know.”
We just about sat in each other’s laps we were so close. After the last few months, I think we needed it.
“I keep telling myself that he and I are just going to be friends,” I said, letting it all out, dumping the whole sorry story on her. “There’s a deeply stupid part of me that’s still holding out hope, however, that doesn’t quite want to accept it. I can’t sit in his hotel room waiting for him to come home so we can have some magical moment together that’ll fix everything and make it right. He and I are never going to be like that. I just have to accept it.”
My sister just stared at me. “You have real feelings for him, don’t you?”
I snorted. I don’t know, it just seemed ridiculous that she was still in denial after everything.
“Sorry. I guess I just always thought this was some crush you’d get over,” she said. “But it’s not.”
“No. But it’s way past time for me to move on. You’re right there. Hence we are here, waiting for him to make an appearance. I’ll see him in action, schmoozing with sexy women, and hopefully realize the depth of my silliness. Then I’ll tell him it’s time for me to go big and get my own room or go home.” I picked up my glass of lemonade from the coffee table and took a sip.
Anne cocked her head, studying me. “Are you in love with him?”