“Does that have caffeine?”
Luke nodded.
“I’m not supposed to have caffeine.”
“Why not?”
She pointed to her stomach. “It’s not good for the baby.”
Luke laughed. “I’m not a baby expert, but I’m pretty damn sure half the babies in England are born with tea in their veins. Sounds like a load of tosh.”
“Well, maybe English guidelines and American guidelines differ.”
He shrugged and put the kettle on. “Maybe. But I’ll put my money on an occasional cuppa being fine. Want me to pop out and try to find something decaffeinated?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“The fridge is a mess, so I’m going to start tidying here so we can put all the food away when we go shopping later, okay? Put the TV on or, you know, do whatever it is you usually do.” He began to run water into a bowl in the sink.
“What I normally do is film everything going on around me, make videos of my day.”
“Do me a favour and don’t do any of that until I’ve at least cleaned up. In fact, do we have to include my home at all? Not sure I want the world seeing the private side of all this.”
“What do you normally do on a Sunday morning?”
He eyed her. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Right. Things I’m asking you to stop doing. Women, sleeping in after a party or concert. All that stuff. Not cleaning your home for a pregnant one-night stand. I’m asking a lot, aren’t I?”
Luke turned the tap off. “Yeah. You are. You’re going to need to give me time to figure out where my boundaries are, flower.”
She walked over to him and placed her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry. About all of this.”
Doe. Fucking. Eyes. He realised this was even harder for her than for him. “There were two of us there that night. And we took precautions. Shit happens. It’s how you deal with it, right? But this contract of yours is making me itch, not going to lie. And what you do for a living . . . It’s not my style to share everything with the world. Hell, I barely share shit with my best mates.”
Willow took a deep breath. “I understand.”
“Hey, when’s the due date?”
“Sixteenth of November.”
Water sloshed as he rinsed the cloth. “Can you feel it move or anything yet?”
“Not yet. That won’t happen for another couple of months.” She grabbed her phone out of her pocket. “Here,” she said. “You want to see our baby?”
Luke dropped the cloth back into the sink. “Sure.” He leaned back against the counter, and she stood next to him, offering him her phone.
Their child. The grainy image every parent-to-be was familiar with. “It’s the size of a large plum about now.”
“Holy shit. It’s got hands and feet.” He slid his arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer. “Look at that.”
He could feel the warmth of her, smell the lingering fragrance of her body wash and the lemon-scented cleaner he’d been using on the fridge.
It would be so easy to kiss her.
But that wouldn’t help either of them out of the mess they were in.
4
“Who are you looking at?” Matt shouted two days later, joining Luke at the balcony of the club they’d ended up in after recording a live music slot for a popular Friday evening TV show.
“Watching Alex.” He tipped his head to where Alex was talking to an attractive couple he’d seen earlier, noticing Alex had wrapped his hand around the woman’s wrist, and the man’s. Luke tipped his chin in their direction. “Want to take bets on which one he is going home with?”
Matt looked over and grinned. “Both.”
“Greedy fucker,” Luke huffed.
Perhaps it was because Willow had told him he would have to stop all that stuff he did that he craved another line of coke. Or maybe it was simply the copious amount of alcohol he’d already drunk. But the pounding in his head matched the drum and bass of the club, and he needed a flood of dopamine.
He felt shitty leaving her alone. Felt even worse that he’d not introduced her to his sister only a few floors away in the same building. But he’d not been ready to make everything public knowledge.
Yet.
“Figured you’d be in a better mood after the arrival of Willow. She’s a cute thing.”
Luke sighed and rubbed his finger over his lip before taking another gulp on his beer. “Yeah, she’s fun,” he said, vaguely. And pretty. It was like his dick and his brain were playing ping-pong. His dick thought she was sexy as fuck. His brain had concluded she was a ball and chain there to take his freedom. The ball getting smacked between the two every five minutes.
“She staying at your place?” Matt asked.
“For now, yeah.” He finished the rest of the beer and debated getting another. He wondered how the two of them living together would work in the longer term. Being around her was half terror, half arousal. The way her lips always looked so fucking pink and juicy that all he could think about was how they’d looked wrapped around his cock in Detroit. When she’d listened to his instructions on how he liked it so thoroughly, he’d had to throw her on the bed before she made him come in her mouth in less than sixty seconds.
Matt took a sip of his beer. “Do you and her have a thing going on?”
Luke raised his eyebrow. While he had found it easier of late to deal with the fact Matt had fallen for Izabel, Luke’s sister, he still wasn’t ready to discuss his life with him right now.
“She’s just a bit of fun.” The lie fell from his mouth too easily, and he hated it. Lying didn’t sit well in his gut. Matt and Izabel had lied to him for months. It wasn’t who he was.
“As long as Willow knows the score. What’s she over here for, anyway?” Matt asked.
“Work,” Luke answered. “Something to do with her social media platforms.” This time, it wasn’t a blatant lie. She was over here to save her career. But he wasn’t ready to tell Matt what was going on.
Yet.
The ticking of the clock had never sounded louder than that of a pending child. Christ. What kind of a father would he be? Half-cut on a Tuesday in a nightclub, wishing he was Alex.
Although, Willow would be taking the baby back to the States with her once the year was up . . . if he agreed.
Shouldn’t becoming a parent be a joy? Something to look forward to? Heck, his mum had told him how hard she and his dad had tried to have kids. Years it had taken them. Which was funny because she’d fucked off to Brighton with his dad’s best mate, leaving his sister, Izabel, in his care—still a fucking teen himself.
His head was going to explode.
Everything was all tied up together. Responsibilities he didn’t want now because of responsibilities he’d been given by the very people who should have been responsible for him.
And, wow, how pathetic was he, blaming his dead dad and lonely mum.
Fuck, how useless was he, unable to shake the feeling of doom.
Matt turned to face him, leaning against the railing. “I haven’t told Izabel she’s here. It’s your business. But it’s weird you’re keeping it a secret from her and the rest of the band. And a dick move to leave her there alone when Iz, Cerys, Chaya, and Zoe are out for dinner tonight and would have totally taken her with them. You want to tell me what’s really going on?”