“Aw, Mommy!”
“Hey, he can stay here. Have a sleepover with Auntie Cadence and me, whaddya think? We can set him on the couch and he can watch TV ALLL night!”
“YAY!” Ben jumps up and down.
“Thanks. Thanks for making me the evil monster if I say no.” I roll my eyes at Sebastian. “Fine. But be a good boy and do whatever Cadence and Sebastian tell you, okay? If he’s too much trouble, just give me a yell and I’ll come over and get him.”
“I’ll be here too,” Carrie says and I smile at her in thanks. Jez beams at me too, which is a little weird.
I ignore Brad’s eyes that I can feel following me and I leave the bus after giving Ben a hug and a good night kiss.
I can’t look at him, I won’t. I’m not strong enough.
I’d used exhaustion as an excuse to get away from Brad, but once I’m in the quiet of my bus, I’m suddenly so fatigued I can barely walk to my room.
Once there, my dress falls off my body into a shimmering pool on the floor and I’m too tired to pick it up. I slide into the made bed-thank you Carrie-and turn onto my side, pulling the sheet up under my arm.
The noise from the other bus is loud but comforting. I can hear the guys talking over the music, and now and then even Ben pipes up, and laughter follows.
I close my eyes. And dream of Brad.
Brad
I’m crazy.
I’m crazy to be doing this.
I could get sued for this.
Fuck that. I could be thrown in jail.
Trying to talk myself out of it doesn’t seem to be doing any good though, and before I can stop myself, I pull her sheets aside and slide into the bed behind her.
She stirs, but not into wakefulness.
Just enough to press back and curve her body against mine.
The moonlight streams through the window and caresses her cheek and runs down her jawline. Like out of a fucking romance novel. Not helping, moonlight.
Oh, Emily, sweet, beautiful, fucking sexy as hell, Emily.
Nothing’s changed and we’re eighteen again and all I want to do is make love to her.
But I won’t. Not until she’s ready.
For now, I’ll just lie here, her in my arms, and yes, my cock as hard as a baseball bat.
But for now, that’ll do.
That’s how much I want her.
Emily
There’s someone in bed with me.
I think.
I don’t know; I’m not quite awake enough yet.
I move my arm to my waist, and yes, there’s definitely an arm there that’s not mine. It’s hairy. My arms are not hairy.
I scream.
The arm’s moved and the hand is over my mouth now. I try to scream louder.
“It’s just me! It’s Brad!” The voice says right into my ear.
I stop the third scream rising up my throat and try to focus on the face in the dark.
“Brad? Oh, thank God,” I say, muffled by his hand.
He lets go of me and I realize what’s happening.
“Wait, BRAD! What the fuck are you doing in my bed? Get out!”
He immediately jumps off the bed. Just as the disappointment rears.
“I’m sorry. I was just-no.” He stops and even in the dark I can see his eyes are frantic and he grabs handfuls of his own hair, shaking his head. “Ugh, fuck the excuses. I…I JUST WANT TO BE WITH YOU, you insufferable, incorrigible woman!” he blurts out, holding out his empty hands.
I feel myself blink and then say something ridiculous.
“Er, yeah, that’ll do it. Ooh take me now, you sweet talker,” I mock, as a way to stall to get my bearings. I place my hands under my chin and flutter my eyelids at him, before rolling my eyes.
“Ugh don’t do that! Don’t try to ignore the issue with your…annoying cuteness!” he growls at me, his face scrunched up into a frown that stretches from the tip of his hairline to the pointed end of his chin.
“I wasn’t.” Yes, I was.
“Annoying woman! We need to sort this out once and for all.”
“I thought you said that ball was in my court!”
“That was before I knew you don’t know how to hold a racket!”
“Clever.” It actually was, witty fucker.
He kneels down on the bed next to me, and I almost fall into the dip he makes. Pushing myself away from him, I try to ignore the image of me falling face-first into his lap.
“Emily,” he says, calling me by my name, sounding more serious than I’ve ever heard him. I sit up and look him in the eyes, ready to listen. I know I owe him that. Whatever it is he wants to say, he’s proven that he’s got my best interests at heart.
“I love you.”
Okay. I didn’t expect that. “What?”
“What? Like that’s a surprise?”
No. Of course it’s not, because I love him too. And he knows it. But I can’t.
“And don’t say you can’t.”
Insightful fucker.
He reaches over and takes my hand and I ignore the spark that runs up my arm.
“Tell me, once and for all, why you can’t. I’ll listen. But you have to tell me.”
I gently pull my hand from his. Because he deserves to know. He deserves to know that it’s not him, that despite the cliche, it really is me. It is that I just can’t…can’t share. Can’t share him with anyone else. I never have wanted to, and I couldn’t live a life doing that.
“Because, I love you too much to share you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the women! The groupies! The talk show hosts! The ex-girlfriends texting you in the middle of the night and you disappearing off with them”
“Whoa whoa whoa, what?”
“You know.”
“I fucking hell do not. What ex-girlfriends? As far as I know, the only close thing I’ve ever had to an ex-girlfriend was you.”
His insistence on denying it grates at me and I jump out of bed, ignoring the fact that I’m dressed only in a nightie and panties.
“Brad! Stop. It’s bad enough that it happened, the least you can do is admit to it.”
“Oh my God. You are insufferable. Pretend I don’t know. Humor me, what did I do?”
“That night…that night, after we …after we had sex. You fell asleep, and all through the night you kept getting text messages from girls, girls I know you’d hooked up with, ‘Oh, Braddy, come see me, I’m home alone, blah blah blah.’ Then I wake up, and you’re not there. No note, no text. And the next thing I know, it’s three months later and you’re on tour, all over the news, pictured with a different girl every night!”
“Oh my God, you’ve got to be kidding me, right?” He actually has the balls to look surprised to be hearing all this.
“No. So, just…just stop. You broke my heat once already. I can’t have you do it again, Brad.”
“But Butter, I didn’t. Oh my God, I didn’t, I swear. I left to go get us some coffees and croissants. Our hangover cure, remember? And when I came back, Silas was there, with his fucking phone with your message telling him to come over and get back together.”
I shake my head at him, amazed he could be so stupid. So, I ask him.
“How could you be so stupid? I never wanted to get back together with him. I wanted to talk to make sure he knew it was a clean break. That it was done. I didn’t want him hanging around trying to get back together. Because…I was in love with you, asshole. Not that it mattered. Not a word, really Brad? After everything we’d been to each other, I understand if after you’d fucked me you didn’t want me anymore, but we were friends for four years. And not a word.”