“I’m not sorry for saying what I said. It’s been bubbling for a while. But I am sorry I didn’t just talk to you,” Willow said.
“It’s a lot. But I’ll admit I was worried about you and about Cletus.” He placed his hand on her stomach for the first time, feeling the slight curve of her stomach beneath his palm, the firmness to the touch. With his arm around her and his hand over Cletus he felt . . . a connection. Something that made the three of them a unit.
“Yeah. Yoga might have been more effective.”
“Than an orgasm?” Luke smiled as a flush of pink filled her cheeks.
“That might have helped too.” She glanced down at his jeans. “Are you sure you don’t want me to—”
He pressed his lips to hers. They were puffy from his kisses, sexy as fuck. “I’m certain. Come on, we’ll chill out, order a Kathmandu, work out what to say to your dad, and watch TV.” He took her hand and led her back into the living room.
“Is that a euphemism? What’s a Kathmandu? And don’t you still want to meet Ben and Alex?”
“No, it’s not a euphemism, but I do think it’s time we acknowledged out loud how we’ve pretty much been sleeping in the same bed every night. Just move into mine. It’s bigger and the mattress is better. You’ve never lived if you haven’t had Nepalese tandoori from The Great Kathmandu. I was going out, but now I feel like staying in and figuring out new lines between us. Did I get everything?”
“You did.”
He cupped her cheeks. “It’s confusing as fuck for both of us. But I’m thinking it’s better that we broaden our definition of honesty, to not just telling the truth when asked. But sharing how we’re doing as we go. Yeah?”
He felt the sigh as her breath eased over his hands, felt her shoulders drop, and her jaw relax. “Yeah.”
He kissed her again because he wanted to. “Good. Now, take a seat, reassure Cletus that the rush of energy he just felt was nothing to worry about, and I’ll order some food.”
And as he ordered tandoori, his gaze flicked to Willow, curled up in the corner of his sofa with her hand on her stomach, and he realised he was exactly where he wanted to be.
10
“I can’t decide if this is the most amazing thing ever or if it’s super douchey,” Luke said, holding her hand as they all walked towards the stretch limo the following Friday.
Willow grinned. “I think it’s pretty cool to be in London on our way to your first official listening party.”
“See, even that sounds a bit douchey.”
Matt looked back at them over his shoulder. “It’s the most rock ’n’ roll thing we’ve ever done, so I’m going to fucking enjoy it.” His hand stroked Izabel’s lower back above the drape of her silver dress.
“Do you think there’ll be drinks on board?” Iz asked. “I feel like I need more Dutch courage.”
“You’ll be fine, sis,” Luke encouraged.
The party had been organised in secret, the discrete invites had gone out to nearly three hundred people in the media and music industry, plus a few influential celebrities. The public had been made aware only hours earlier, but Parker Moseley had told them there was already a large number outside Wilton’s Music Hall, an old auditorium that had been built in the 1850s a stone’s throw from the Tower of London.
“Are you nervous?” Willow asked.
“I’m nervous you’re going to break your neck in those heels,” he said, looking down at the silver heels she wore. She’d gone with Cerys and Izabel to a salon to get their hair and nails done. As a result, her toes were painted a vibrant cherry red. They added a pop of colour to the black satin dinner suit she wore. Slim fit cigarette pants, and a blazer with nothing beneath it beyond some double-sided tape to protect her modesty. The choice had been made because the jacket hid the hint of a bump she had.
“You love my shoes,” she replied. “Plus, I’ll tell you a secret. They’re Latin ballroom shoes.”
“And that’s good why?”
“It’s the one trick every woman should know. Dance shoes are designed to be comfortable to stand and dance in. Arch support, padding under the ball of the foot. Forget all the big-name shoe companies. The best shoe for an all-night party is a dance shoe.”
Luke squeezed her hand. “You’ve been in bed by ten every night because growing Cletus is exhausting. If you are still awake at eleven it’ll be a miracle, let alone all night.”
“Totally fair,” she said. “But I napped while you were meeting with the label earlier. So, I am good to go.”
Willow swallowed the envy she felt as Jase cupped Cerys’s cheek and kissed her before helping her into the limo. He always looked at her as if she was the most precious thing on the planet. Impossible to watch without hoping someone looked at you the exact same way. Last night, in her bedroom, when Luke had kissed her . . . she’d seen a glimpse of it.
Ben and Alex were next in. Ben had invited Chaya, but unfortunately, she had to work her shift at the hospital and hadn’t been able to make it. Alex had joked it was a relief, so he didn’t have to be the only band member flying solo.
Luke placed his palm on her lower back, encouraging her to climb in ahead of him. He’d been like that the past week. There was an intimacy growing between them. One built from a different place than the night they’d spent together in Detroit.
Holding hands.
Kisses.
It was mental torture trying to not obsess over his actions. They were . . . chaste. She couldn’t decide his motivations. Perhaps he really didn’t want to be doing anything with her and yet felt as though he should. Maybe he was worried about having sex with a pregnant woman. Maybe, given the long line of attractive women he’d slept with, he didn’t like her changing body, although her bump was barely noticeable still. Her doctor had reassured her that having such a small bump at sixteen weeks was not a big deal, given how much she looked after her body and it was her first.
Luke stroked a finger between her eyes. “What’s this wrinkle all about?”
She hadn’t realised he’d sat down next to her.
“Oh, just wondering how good the tape holding my jacket in place is.”
Luke glanced down at her chest, his gaze heated. “It deserves a fucking medal. But if it fails, I’ve got an undershirt on beneath my shirt. It’s black. Give me the word, I’ll go take it off and give it to you.”
“Thanks,” she said with a smile.
“Look what I found,” Alex said, holding up a bottle of what looked like vodka.
“Guys,” Matt warned. “We can’t turn up to this party off our faces.”
Jase grinned. “Why not? Just because all this shit is happening around us, doesn’t mean we aren’t exactly the same people.”
Alex cracked the lid, and Ben reached behind them for crystal glasses that lined the narrow LED-lit shelf behind the seat. They poured them and passed them along. When Jase handed one to Luke, he reached for it, then shook his head as he changed his mind. “I’ll wait until we get to the venue.”