“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t. But the more time and distance I’ve gotten from that night, the more I can look back on it as some crazy, sexy blip on my timeline.”
Mo flinched, like he’d been slapped. “Wow,” he breathed. “Shit, that hurt.”
“Moses, I don’t want to hurt you, especially now that I know everything. But I just can’t pretend to see you as my husband, when in reality, we barely know each other. That isn’t to say I don’t want to know you, because I do. We’re having a child together, and I’d love us to be friends. It would make life so much easier if we could be. But everything is so complicated right now, I can’t offer more than that.”
It hurt him to hear it, but it hurt me to say it. He was so beautiful, and when I looked into his big brown eyes, I was reminded of that night and the sincerity of his promises. I could almost feel him pressing me into the mattress, settling between my thighs like he was made to be there. The biggest part of me, the part that slept with random bartenders, danced to “November Rain” when it played on an old jukebox, and married rock stars on a whim, wanted to throw caution to the wind and trymorewith Mo. But the little life inside me had me looking to the smaller part of me, the hard-ass, ass-kicking part who thought things through and planned for every eventuality.
“I’m not divorcing you,” he said.
I sighed and reached my hand out to him, palm up. He stared at it for a long beat before covering it with his own.
“Let’s press pause on all that. I’m not holding you to any vows, okay? I get that you’re young, you have needs, and—”
His hand tightened around mine. “We’re not discussing that.”
“Fine. We don’t have to. Let’s be friends, however that looks for us, and put a pin in the rest. Our focus should be this baby.”
A deep rumbling sound rose from Mo’s chest. “I’ll gladly be your friend, Michaela, but I’m not going topretendyou’re not my wife. I won’t pressure you, and that baby growing inside you is absolutely my focus, but you are too, and I also won’tpretendabout that.”
His powerful voice, saying the exact opposite of what I just told him I wanted, shouldn’t have caused goosebumps to sprout along my arms. But holy hell, it did. I’d convinced myself our eight-year age difference made Mo a boy, but he was all man.
I had to lighten the mood or I would dive across this table and have my way with him.Friendsdidn’t do that, and pregnant ladies certainly didn’t either.
“Please don’t think I’m an insensitive cow, but I’m going to eat this cheeseburger right now.”
That made him laugh. “Might be a good idea to take a pause. I feel like the rug has been pulled from under my feet and I’m still falling down.”
“Ooof. That’s not a good feeling.”
I took a big bite, and Mo gave me an indulgent smile. He probably thought I was eating like a monster due to pregnancy, but given my hectic schedule, I’d learned to cram food in my mouth whenever I had a spare second. Plus, growing up with a giant for a brother who had a bottomless pit for a stomach, if I didn’t eat fast, he’d set his sights on my plate. So yeah, this was just every day, sort-of-gross Michaela. Mo finally started eating too, and some of the previous tension in the air floated away.
Mo wiped his mouth with his paper napkin. “What was your meeting about?”
I sucked ketchup from my thumb before answering. “Oh, I had to finalize some details with a vendor, then I met with the band’s manager to go over timelines and double-check everything I have scheduled. All the normal, tedious tasks I have to do before leaving for a tour.”
He blinked at me. “You’re going on tour?”
“Yes. I leave in two weeks. It’s just a six-week tour, and I got pulled in at the last minute, but since they’re playing smaller venues, the logistics are more simple and—”
“But you’re pregnant.” He sounded bewildered, which bewildered me.
“That’s true. Does being pregnant preclude me from working? I wasn’t aware.”
“I didn’t think about you going on the road. Is that smart?” he asked.
Oh, that got my hackles up. “Are you kidding?”
“No. I’m asking if it’s smart to ride a tour bus and do a job where you’re on your feet sometimes eighteen hours a day, that’s hectic and sometimes stressful, while you’re pregnant.”
I wiped my mouth, took a long drink of water, then calmly gathered my purse. “I’m going now before I kick you in the teeth. I’ll text you with the date and time of my next appointment.”
He caught my wrist before I could even take a step, pulling me down to his side of the small booth. We were squished together, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. His ginger smell corrupted my synapses.
“Don’t get mad at me for asking questions, Mic,” he said in a low, calming voice.
I turned my head to look at him. We were entirely too close. “Do you really expect me not to work for the next six months?”
“You don’t have to.” He picked up my hand, rubbing his thumb over my fingernails. “I’ll take care of whatever you need.”