Rock bottom, p.14
Rock Bottom, page 14
“Yeah.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin and downed the rest of my water bottle. “I’m trying, though. I need her to forgive me.”
“How come?”
“Because we’ll be co-parenting a kid, and I don’t want him growing up watching us fight and bicker all the time. We’re family now.”
He arched his brows. “You’re actually going to try to be involved in his life?”
“Well, yeah. Why the fuck would you ask me that?”
“How will you make it to T-ball games and PTA meetings when we’re touring eleven months of the year?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “We’ll have to cut back like we’ve talked about. Or build in more time off in between, so I can fly home to be with him.”
“That’ll get old,” he said quietly. “Trust me.”
“You don’t understand,” I protested. “It’s different once it’s your kid. I already miss him, and I’ve only known him a week. I can’t imagine letting months pass without seeing him.”
Carter averted his gaze, opening another bottle of water. “I dunno, man. Seems to me once we get back out on the road, we’re going to get our groove on, and home will seem far away.”
“Maybe because none of us have anything to go home to,” I said. “Tommy’s divorced, Kellan brings Didi on the road with him when they’re not fighting, and the rest of us are perpetually single. I think we’d all feel differently if we had something to go home to.”
“Look, I’m the wrong person to ask,” he said quietly. “For me, being sober is just never-ending monotony. I don’t like golf. I don’t give a shit about fast cars or big houses. Couldn’t care less about clothes. So far, women bore me after a few hours. The only fun in my life was being high and playing music. I can still play music but being on stage an hour a day leaves twenty-three hours to fill with fucking nothing. I’ve already heard all the psychology, so don’t bother with all that. I know I can still live an exciting, fulfilling life without drugs.” He rolled his eyes. “And I’m working on it. But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
“I’m sorry, man. I know addiction is hard.”
“You don’t know,” he said, an edge to his voice I’d never heard from him before. “Until you’ve lived it, you don’t know. Anyway, you still got the hots for Presley or you just being nice so you can see your kid?”
“Jury’s still out,” I admitted. “I don’t know her beyond the night we spent together. She’s sweet, though.”
“If I recall, she was manipulative and ambitious.”
“I may have been grumpy when I said that stuff,” I admitted.
“So, there’s a possibility of the two of you getting together for real?” He eyed me suspiciously. “You know a kid isn’t a good reason to be with the mother.”
“All I said was that she’s sweet,” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded sheets of paper I’d written the song on. “And she inspired a song.”
“She inspired a song.” He took the papers all while giving me a look. “Dude. You’re acting like a guy who’s in love.”
“I spent one night with her. Gimme a break.”
He wiggled the papers I’d just handed him. “And a year later you wrote a song about her.”
I probably didn’t want to mention that the idea for the song had been in my head since that night.
Christ, I had a hard-on for my baby mama, and she wasn’t even speaking to me.
This wasn’t going to end well for me.
Instead of talking, I grabbed my guitar and started to strum. “Stop being a dick and just listen.” I hummed along with the melody. “What do you think? Love song? Power ballad? Or full on heavy shit?”
“Play it again.” Carter closed his eyes, tapping out a random drumbeat on the table. “Power ballad,” he said after a minute. “It has that feel. Lemme look at this.” He unfolded the paper and started to read. “Oh, yeah, this is cool… innocent heart, damaging touch… I can hear this in King’s voice. If he gets a little gritty with the ‘need you so much’ part, the ladies’ll all get hot and bothered.”
I nodded. “That was my thought too.”
“This is good, Z.” He got up and disappeared down the hall. He came back a minute later with one of his basses and perched on the arm of the sectional. “Play that chorus again.”
I went back to it, and he thumped out a bass line that felt heavier than I’d originally been thinking but somehow worked. It was a love song, but rough around the edges, which was our signature sound. We were hard rock, with a little metal, a lot of blues, and a touch of soul from Kingston’s voice. This song, that I’d titled “Not Going Away,” had emotion, grit, and the potential to be a single. I’d been doing this long enough to know instinctively what did and didn’t work.
This was going to work.
I knew it with every fiber of my being.
“The boys are going to like this.” Carter was grinning as he played, and the melody just came to me.
“Dude. Your phone is ringing.”
I’d been so into what we were doing, I hadn’t noticed my phone buzzing on the coffee table. I’d turned off the ringer, but it still vibrated and I reached for it, surprised to see Presley’s name on the screen.
“It’s Presley. She’s never called me before.” I answered without waiting for him to respond. “Hello?”
“Zeke!” Her voice was soft but frantic.
“What’s wrong?” I asked automatically. “Is it the baby?”
“N-no. Jeremy is fine.” She sniffled.
Was she crying?
Oh, fuck.
Dread filled me.
“Aunt Meg?” I hated myself for the relief that shot through me when she’d said Jeremy was okay, but it wasn’t because I wanted something to happen to Meg.
“She had a heart attack,” she said, her voice breaking. “And now the insurance won’t cover the surgery she needs. Zeke, I don’t know what to do. Please, you have to help us!”
22
Presley
I’d been frantic since the hospital administrator had come to tell me that Aunt Meg’s insurance wouldn’t cover the procedure Dr. Shanahan wanted to do. Something about her MS and a second opinion and a bunch of other shit I didn’t understand. After calling them myself and getting nowhere, I’d broken down and called Zeke. As much as it pained me to do it, I’d swallow every ounce of pride I’d ever had if it would help Aunt Meg.
Twelve hours later, Zeke walked into Aunt Meg’s hospital room.
“Hi.” I stood up, whispering as I put a finger to my lips. She’d had a rough night and was finally resting, so we walked into the hallway together.
“How are you?” he asked, putting a hand on the side of my shoulder.
“Scared,” I admitted, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Tell me who I have to talk to, and I’ll guarantee payment so they can operate as soon as possible. We can fight with the insurance afterward.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, fighting back tears. “I really appreciate this. I know this has nothing to do with Jeremy, so it’s not your responsibility, but I didn’t know what else to do. She’s all I have, Zeke.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you called.”
Our eyes met and his were filled with warmth. Concern. Tenderness.
Why was he always being so nice? And helpful. And hot. He never stopped being hot, and it pissed me off that I still noticed.
It made it so hard to stay mad at him. Especially after he’d flown all this way at the drop of a hat. I’d called him late last night and he’d managed to get on the first flight out of LAX at six o’clock this morning. It was barely noon, and he was already here. That counted for something. Hell, it counted for a lot.
“Where’s the baby?” he asked after a moment.
“With Denise. This is no place for him.”
“No, definitely not.” He put his hands on both my shoulders. “Find me the person I need to talk to, and let’s get Aunt Meg that surgery.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I pulled the administrator’s card out of my pocket and called her, asking her to come down to the room.
“Have you eaten anything today?” Zeke asked as we settled in the visitors’ lounge just down the hall from Meg’s room.
I shook my head. “I can’t. My stomach is in knots.”
“As soon as I talk to this woman, we’ll get something to eat.”
“I don’t want to leave Aunt Meg.”
“She’s sleeping, and you need to keep your strength up.”
I wanted to protest but I was too tired. I hadn’t slept last night at all, sitting by Aunt Meg’s bed until after midnight and then coming back at seven. It was hard to leave Jeremy with Denise again, but she’d been a godsend and I needed to be with Aunt Meg as much as I could.
Zeke spoke to the woman from the accounting department, filled out some paperwork, signed something, and then turned to me. “Ready to go eat?”
“Yeah. I guess.” I was shocked that was all it had taken, but money spoke volumes apparently.
I let him lead me out of the hospital and toward what I assumed was a rental car. It was a big SUV of some kind and I climbed into the passenger seat, letting my body relax against the soft leather. It felt so good to sit somewhere comfortable.
God, I was tired.
The last few days had been stressful, so it was nice to let someone else take over for a while. Lately, it felt like I was in charge of everyone and everything: my life, my job, my baby, my aunt. Not to mention the house and everything that went into running it. Adding the situation with Meg’s insurance on top of it all had been more than I could handle, so I didn’t know how I’d ever thank Zeke for coming like this. Hopefully the doctor would reschedule the procedure quickly now that the hospital had a guarantee for payment, and I could breathe again.
“What do you want to eat and where should we go?” he asked, pulling onto the street.
“There’s a place that has breakfast all day not too far from here,” I said. “I suddenly feel like pancakes.”
“I could eat pancakes,” he said. “Just guide me in the right direction.”
Ten minutes later we were seated at a small booth in the back of the restaurant, and I had a steaming cup of black coffee in front of me. I took a sip and sighed happily.
“You’re a big coffee drinker?” he asked, sipping his own cup.
“It started in college, and I picked it up again after Jeremy was born.”
“Long nights, huh?”
I unconsciously yawned before clapping a hand over my mouth. “Yeah, he’s still not sleeping great.”
“Is that normal? I don’t know much about their schedules at this age.”
“Well, it’s different for all babies. In our case, he’s a big, healthy boy, but simply not a great sleeper. The doctor says it’ll get better. We’ll start him on a little cereal soon and that might help. They think if he’s fuller, he’ll sleep more.”
“You can’t start the cereal now?”
“There are a lot of different opinions on when to start them on solid food versus just formula. My pediatrician says we can start when he’s five months, but I know people who started at two months. There’s research about their stomachs not being able to handle it, stuff like that. I’m just going to listen to our doctor because doing my own research was a very unhelpful rabbit hole.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
We paused to give the waitress our orders before resuming our conversation.
“So last time I was here, Aunt Meg told me you never got your e-magazine off the ground. I’d like to help with that.”
I was startled but then shook my head. “That ship has sailed. I have neither the time nor the energy to take that on. Between work and the baby, I’m way too tired.”
“I’ve been giving some thought to that too. I was thinking you should quit your job and do the magazine full-time. Let me support you while you get it off the ground.”
“What? No. I can’t let you do that.” I stared at him.
“Why not? It would be better for Jeremy if you’re home with him, and what’s the difference if I pay for full-time daycare so you can go work at a job you may or may not like, or if I give you that money so you can stay home and follow the dream I unintentionally stole from you?”
“There’s no guarantee it’ll go anywhere,” I protested. “Then what?”
“It could give you the chance to retake that final class you failed and get your degree. By the time Jeremy starts school, you could get a regular job if things don’t work out with the magazine. But for the next five years or so, stay home and be a mom. I can afford it, Presley, and the truth is, I owe you. It’s about more than money, and you know it.”
I stared at him, wishing I could say yes but knowing I couldn’t.
“Will you think about it?” he continued when I didn’t respond right away. “I know you’re about to say no, but will you just take a few days to think about it? Please?”
“All right.” I was truly too exhausted to argue with him, and I wanted to wait until I knew Aunt Meg was on the mend before I made a huge decision like this. I was tempted, though. How awesome would it be to stay home with Jeremy and work on my e-zine? More like a dream-come-true.
“And a little more food for thought,” he said, giving me a devilish smile. “I spoke to Carter. He said he would be willing to talk to you about his struggle with addiction for your first big article.”
My eyes widened. This was totally unexpected. “Really?”
“He read a few of the articles you wrote about those local bands and said he likes your style. And of course, he’d do it because I asked him to.”
“That’s… amazing,” I whispered, suddenly overwhelmed with his generosity. “Really. There are no words.”
“I also have tons of friends who’ll all be willing to do interviews as a favor to me.”
“Zeke.” I didn’t even know what to say. I’d given up on getting my degree, but it had been a bitter pill to swallow. He wasn’t just giving me back my dream of starting an online music magazine, he was also giving me the opportunity to finish what I’d started with college.
“Like I said, think about it.” He reached across the table and laid one of his big hands on mine. “The first thing we have to do is get Meg through this surgery. Then we can talk about everything else. Okay?”
“Okay.” I nodded, wishing the simple touch of his hand didn’t affect me the way it did. “And thank you. I mean it.”
“I told you, I’m here for you now. No matter what.”
Was it weird that I believed him when he looked at me like he was looking at me now? Despite everything that had happened, the moment those gorgeous eyes of his met mine, it was as if we were back at the resort bar, talking and getting to know each other again. I was doing my level best to keep him at arm’s length, but I was failing miserably. The fact that he’d jumped on a plane the moment I asked him to, even though it had nothing to do with Jeremy, made me second guess myself.
Of course, Aunt Meg had been right that I still had feelings for him. I’d always heard that your first was special, so I’d chalked it up to nothing more than a romantic fantasy, but my heart told me it was more than that whenever we were in the same room.
Not that I thought he felt what I felt. He appeared to be stepping up to be a good father and to try to make up for everything that had happened between us. That didn’t mean he wanted anything more than a peaceful co-existence so we could parent our son. He had the money to make this easy on me, so I had to keep that in mind every time he did something sweet and thoughtful. This wasn’t about anything except making the best of an awkward situation. I had to be careful not to mistake kindness and generosity for romantic feelings.
“You look like you’re ready to drop,” he said as we finished eating.
“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” I admitted. “I’d love to take a nap.”
“How about I take you home, and you can nap while I take care of the baby?”
I frowned. “Are you sure? And what about Aunt Meg?”
“You can call her on the way. Unless they’re doing the surgery this afternoon, you need to rest. I’d like to do as much as I can for you while I’m here because I have to leave tomorrow.”
“Already?” The word tumbled out before I could stop it.
“We were supposed to start recording the new album today,” he said quietly. “I told them I had a family emergency, but I can’t miss much time because we’re paying for the studio whether we use it or not.”
“Oh.”
Why was I so disappointed?
“I can stay one, maybe two, more days if you need me,” he said, handing the waitress some money.
“You have responsibilities,” I said. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“Presley.” He turned to face me once we were outside.
“Yes?” I gazed up at his gorgeous face, mesmerized by his voice.
“If you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask.”
23
Zeke
I waited, watching the play of emotions flit across Presley’s pretty face. She wanted to. Wanted me. But she was scared. Whether she was afraid I would somehow hurt her again, or merely disappoint her, I couldn’t be sure, but there was no mistaking the conflict in her eyes.
And I fucking hated it.
“Ask me to stay, Sunny,” I whispered, deciding to make a move. I slid a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she whispered back, her eyes glued to mine.
“Convincing you to ask me to stay.” I lowered my head and ever-so-lightly brushed my lips across hers. “Reminding you I’m not the bad guy.”
“Zeke.” Her voice was so soft I barely heard it, but it was the only invitation I needed.
I dipped my head again and pulled her the rest of the way against me, so our bodies were touching.
“I’ll stay if you need me. Just say it.”
“I…need you… to stay.” Her mouth parted and as much as I wanted to slide my tongue between her beautiful lips and take everything I’d been thinking about for the last year, I had to be patient. This was too important. If I rushed her, she’d run, and I was finally making progress.
“How come?”
“Because we’ll be co-parenting a kid, and I don’t want him growing up watching us fight and bicker all the time. We’re family now.”
He arched his brows. “You’re actually going to try to be involved in his life?”
“Well, yeah. Why the fuck would you ask me that?”
“How will you make it to T-ball games and PTA meetings when we’re touring eleven months of the year?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “We’ll have to cut back like we’ve talked about. Or build in more time off in between, so I can fly home to be with him.”
“That’ll get old,” he said quietly. “Trust me.”
“You don’t understand,” I protested. “It’s different once it’s your kid. I already miss him, and I’ve only known him a week. I can’t imagine letting months pass without seeing him.”
Carter averted his gaze, opening another bottle of water. “I dunno, man. Seems to me once we get back out on the road, we’re going to get our groove on, and home will seem far away.”
“Maybe because none of us have anything to go home to,” I said. “Tommy’s divorced, Kellan brings Didi on the road with him when they’re not fighting, and the rest of us are perpetually single. I think we’d all feel differently if we had something to go home to.”
“Look, I’m the wrong person to ask,” he said quietly. “For me, being sober is just never-ending monotony. I don’t like golf. I don’t give a shit about fast cars or big houses. Couldn’t care less about clothes. So far, women bore me after a few hours. The only fun in my life was being high and playing music. I can still play music but being on stage an hour a day leaves twenty-three hours to fill with fucking nothing. I’ve already heard all the psychology, so don’t bother with all that. I know I can still live an exciting, fulfilling life without drugs.” He rolled his eyes. “And I’m working on it. But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
“I’m sorry, man. I know addiction is hard.”
“You don’t know,” he said, an edge to his voice I’d never heard from him before. “Until you’ve lived it, you don’t know. Anyway, you still got the hots for Presley or you just being nice so you can see your kid?”
“Jury’s still out,” I admitted. “I don’t know her beyond the night we spent together. She’s sweet, though.”
“If I recall, she was manipulative and ambitious.”
“I may have been grumpy when I said that stuff,” I admitted.
“So, there’s a possibility of the two of you getting together for real?” He eyed me suspiciously. “You know a kid isn’t a good reason to be with the mother.”
“All I said was that she’s sweet,” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded sheets of paper I’d written the song on. “And she inspired a song.”
“She inspired a song.” He took the papers all while giving me a look. “Dude. You’re acting like a guy who’s in love.”
“I spent one night with her. Gimme a break.”
He wiggled the papers I’d just handed him. “And a year later you wrote a song about her.”
I probably didn’t want to mention that the idea for the song had been in my head since that night.
Christ, I had a hard-on for my baby mama, and she wasn’t even speaking to me.
This wasn’t going to end well for me.
Instead of talking, I grabbed my guitar and started to strum. “Stop being a dick and just listen.” I hummed along with the melody. “What do you think? Love song? Power ballad? Or full on heavy shit?”
“Play it again.” Carter closed his eyes, tapping out a random drumbeat on the table. “Power ballad,” he said after a minute. “It has that feel. Lemme look at this.” He unfolded the paper and started to read. “Oh, yeah, this is cool… innocent heart, damaging touch… I can hear this in King’s voice. If he gets a little gritty with the ‘need you so much’ part, the ladies’ll all get hot and bothered.”
I nodded. “That was my thought too.”
“This is good, Z.” He got up and disappeared down the hall. He came back a minute later with one of his basses and perched on the arm of the sectional. “Play that chorus again.”
I went back to it, and he thumped out a bass line that felt heavier than I’d originally been thinking but somehow worked. It was a love song, but rough around the edges, which was our signature sound. We were hard rock, with a little metal, a lot of blues, and a touch of soul from Kingston’s voice. This song, that I’d titled “Not Going Away,” had emotion, grit, and the potential to be a single. I’d been doing this long enough to know instinctively what did and didn’t work.
This was going to work.
I knew it with every fiber of my being.
“The boys are going to like this.” Carter was grinning as he played, and the melody just came to me.
“Dude. Your phone is ringing.”
I’d been so into what we were doing, I hadn’t noticed my phone buzzing on the coffee table. I’d turned off the ringer, but it still vibrated and I reached for it, surprised to see Presley’s name on the screen.
“It’s Presley. She’s never called me before.” I answered without waiting for him to respond. “Hello?”
“Zeke!” Her voice was soft but frantic.
“What’s wrong?” I asked automatically. “Is it the baby?”
“N-no. Jeremy is fine.” She sniffled.
Was she crying?
Oh, fuck.
Dread filled me.
“Aunt Meg?” I hated myself for the relief that shot through me when she’d said Jeremy was okay, but it wasn’t because I wanted something to happen to Meg.
“She had a heart attack,” she said, her voice breaking. “And now the insurance won’t cover the surgery she needs. Zeke, I don’t know what to do. Please, you have to help us!”
22
Presley
I’d been frantic since the hospital administrator had come to tell me that Aunt Meg’s insurance wouldn’t cover the procedure Dr. Shanahan wanted to do. Something about her MS and a second opinion and a bunch of other shit I didn’t understand. After calling them myself and getting nowhere, I’d broken down and called Zeke. As much as it pained me to do it, I’d swallow every ounce of pride I’d ever had if it would help Aunt Meg.
Twelve hours later, Zeke walked into Aunt Meg’s hospital room.
“Hi.” I stood up, whispering as I put a finger to my lips. She’d had a rough night and was finally resting, so we walked into the hallway together.
“How are you?” he asked, putting a hand on the side of my shoulder.
“Scared,” I admitted, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Tell me who I have to talk to, and I’ll guarantee payment so they can operate as soon as possible. We can fight with the insurance afterward.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, fighting back tears. “I really appreciate this. I know this has nothing to do with Jeremy, so it’s not your responsibility, but I didn’t know what else to do. She’s all I have, Zeke.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you called.”
Our eyes met and his were filled with warmth. Concern. Tenderness.
Why was he always being so nice? And helpful. And hot. He never stopped being hot, and it pissed me off that I still noticed.
It made it so hard to stay mad at him. Especially after he’d flown all this way at the drop of a hat. I’d called him late last night and he’d managed to get on the first flight out of LAX at six o’clock this morning. It was barely noon, and he was already here. That counted for something. Hell, it counted for a lot.
“Where’s the baby?” he asked after a moment.
“With Denise. This is no place for him.”
“No, definitely not.” He put his hands on both my shoulders. “Find me the person I need to talk to, and let’s get Aunt Meg that surgery.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I pulled the administrator’s card out of my pocket and called her, asking her to come down to the room.
“Have you eaten anything today?” Zeke asked as we settled in the visitors’ lounge just down the hall from Meg’s room.
I shook my head. “I can’t. My stomach is in knots.”
“As soon as I talk to this woman, we’ll get something to eat.”
“I don’t want to leave Aunt Meg.”
“She’s sleeping, and you need to keep your strength up.”
I wanted to protest but I was too tired. I hadn’t slept last night at all, sitting by Aunt Meg’s bed until after midnight and then coming back at seven. It was hard to leave Jeremy with Denise again, but she’d been a godsend and I needed to be with Aunt Meg as much as I could.
Zeke spoke to the woman from the accounting department, filled out some paperwork, signed something, and then turned to me. “Ready to go eat?”
“Yeah. I guess.” I was shocked that was all it had taken, but money spoke volumes apparently.
I let him lead me out of the hospital and toward what I assumed was a rental car. It was a big SUV of some kind and I climbed into the passenger seat, letting my body relax against the soft leather. It felt so good to sit somewhere comfortable.
God, I was tired.
The last few days had been stressful, so it was nice to let someone else take over for a while. Lately, it felt like I was in charge of everyone and everything: my life, my job, my baby, my aunt. Not to mention the house and everything that went into running it. Adding the situation with Meg’s insurance on top of it all had been more than I could handle, so I didn’t know how I’d ever thank Zeke for coming like this. Hopefully the doctor would reschedule the procedure quickly now that the hospital had a guarantee for payment, and I could breathe again.
“What do you want to eat and where should we go?” he asked, pulling onto the street.
“There’s a place that has breakfast all day not too far from here,” I said. “I suddenly feel like pancakes.”
“I could eat pancakes,” he said. “Just guide me in the right direction.”
Ten minutes later we were seated at a small booth in the back of the restaurant, and I had a steaming cup of black coffee in front of me. I took a sip and sighed happily.
“You’re a big coffee drinker?” he asked, sipping his own cup.
“It started in college, and I picked it up again after Jeremy was born.”
“Long nights, huh?”
I unconsciously yawned before clapping a hand over my mouth. “Yeah, he’s still not sleeping great.”
“Is that normal? I don’t know much about their schedules at this age.”
“Well, it’s different for all babies. In our case, he’s a big, healthy boy, but simply not a great sleeper. The doctor says it’ll get better. We’ll start him on a little cereal soon and that might help. They think if he’s fuller, he’ll sleep more.”
“You can’t start the cereal now?”
“There are a lot of different opinions on when to start them on solid food versus just formula. My pediatrician says we can start when he’s five months, but I know people who started at two months. There’s research about their stomachs not being able to handle it, stuff like that. I’m just going to listen to our doctor because doing my own research was a very unhelpful rabbit hole.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
We paused to give the waitress our orders before resuming our conversation.
“So last time I was here, Aunt Meg told me you never got your e-magazine off the ground. I’d like to help with that.”
I was startled but then shook my head. “That ship has sailed. I have neither the time nor the energy to take that on. Between work and the baby, I’m way too tired.”
“I’ve been giving some thought to that too. I was thinking you should quit your job and do the magazine full-time. Let me support you while you get it off the ground.”
“What? No. I can’t let you do that.” I stared at him.
“Why not? It would be better for Jeremy if you’re home with him, and what’s the difference if I pay for full-time daycare so you can go work at a job you may or may not like, or if I give you that money so you can stay home and follow the dream I unintentionally stole from you?”
“There’s no guarantee it’ll go anywhere,” I protested. “Then what?”
“It could give you the chance to retake that final class you failed and get your degree. By the time Jeremy starts school, you could get a regular job if things don’t work out with the magazine. But for the next five years or so, stay home and be a mom. I can afford it, Presley, and the truth is, I owe you. It’s about more than money, and you know it.”
I stared at him, wishing I could say yes but knowing I couldn’t.
“Will you think about it?” he continued when I didn’t respond right away. “I know you’re about to say no, but will you just take a few days to think about it? Please?”
“All right.” I was truly too exhausted to argue with him, and I wanted to wait until I knew Aunt Meg was on the mend before I made a huge decision like this. I was tempted, though. How awesome would it be to stay home with Jeremy and work on my e-zine? More like a dream-come-true.
“And a little more food for thought,” he said, giving me a devilish smile. “I spoke to Carter. He said he would be willing to talk to you about his struggle with addiction for your first big article.”
My eyes widened. This was totally unexpected. “Really?”
“He read a few of the articles you wrote about those local bands and said he likes your style. And of course, he’d do it because I asked him to.”
“That’s… amazing,” I whispered, suddenly overwhelmed with his generosity. “Really. There are no words.”
“I also have tons of friends who’ll all be willing to do interviews as a favor to me.”
“Zeke.” I didn’t even know what to say. I’d given up on getting my degree, but it had been a bitter pill to swallow. He wasn’t just giving me back my dream of starting an online music magazine, he was also giving me the opportunity to finish what I’d started with college.
“Like I said, think about it.” He reached across the table and laid one of his big hands on mine. “The first thing we have to do is get Meg through this surgery. Then we can talk about everything else. Okay?”
“Okay.” I nodded, wishing the simple touch of his hand didn’t affect me the way it did. “And thank you. I mean it.”
“I told you, I’m here for you now. No matter what.”
Was it weird that I believed him when he looked at me like he was looking at me now? Despite everything that had happened, the moment those gorgeous eyes of his met mine, it was as if we were back at the resort bar, talking and getting to know each other again. I was doing my level best to keep him at arm’s length, but I was failing miserably. The fact that he’d jumped on a plane the moment I asked him to, even though it had nothing to do with Jeremy, made me second guess myself.
Of course, Aunt Meg had been right that I still had feelings for him. I’d always heard that your first was special, so I’d chalked it up to nothing more than a romantic fantasy, but my heart told me it was more than that whenever we were in the same room.
Not that I thought he felt what I felt. He appeared to be stepping up to be a good father and to try to make up for everything that had happened between us. That didn’t mean he wanted anything more than a peaceful co-existence so we could parent our son. He had the money to make this easy on me, so I had to keep that in mind every time he did something sweet and thoughtful. This wasn’t about anything except making the best of an awkward situation. I had to be careful not to mistake kindness and generosity for romantic feelings.
“You look like you’re ready to drop,” he said as we finished eating.
“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” I admitted. “I’d love to take a nap.”
“How about I take you home, and you can nap while I take care of the baby?”
I frowned. “Are you sure? And what about Aunt Meg?”
“You can call her on the way. Unless they’re doing the surgery this afternoon, you need to rest. I’d like to do as much as I can for you while I’m here because I have to leave tomorrow.”
“Already?” The word tumbled out before I could stop it.
“We were supposed to start recording the new album today,” he said quietly. “I told them I had a family emergency, but I can’t miss much time because we’re paying for the studio whether we use it or not.”
“Oh.”
Why was I so disappointed?
“I can stay one, maybe two, more days if you need me,” he said, handing the waitress some money.
“You have responsibilities,” I said. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“Presley.” He turned to face me once we were outside.
“Yes?” I gazed up at his gorgeous face, mesmerized by his voice.
“If you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask.”
23
Zeke
I waited, watching the play of emotions flit across Presley’s pretty face. She wanted to. Wanted me. But she was scared. Whether she was afraid I would somehow hurt her again, or merely disappoint her, I couldn’t be sure, but there was no mistaking the conflict in her eyes.
And I fucking hated it.
“Ask me to stay, Sunny,” I whispered, deciding to make a move. I slid a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she whispered back, her eyes glued to mine.
“Convincing you to ask me to stay.” I lowered my head and ever-so-lightly brushed my lips across hers. “Reminding you I’m not the bad guy.”
“Zeke.” Her voice was so soft I barely heard it, but it was the only invitation I needed.
I dipped my head again and pulled her the rest of the way against me, so our bodies were touching.
“I’ll stay if you need me. Just say it.”
“I…need you… to stay.” Her mouth parted and as much as I wanted to slide my tongue between her beautiful lips and take everything I’d been thinking about for the last year, I had to be patient. This was too important. If I rushed her, she’d run, and I was finally making progress.
