Chapter 32
Summer
Coming face-to-face with someone Tate slept with—a one-night stand kind of like I was—felt jarring. She was spectacularly rude but Tate handled it the best way possible without being equally impolite or making a scene.
Obviously, he’s slept with other people.
There’s no doubt about that. I have too.
And not just one or two. I’ve had a healthy sex life since I became active at seventeen.
The difference is that there’s very little chance of running into those men, even in my hometown.
Regardless, I didn’t like how it felt when she looked at my belly and said “oh.” Like the baby is the only possible reason Tate and I would be married.
Even though it’s true.
We definitely wouldn’t be married now if I wasn’t pregnant. We might be dating, but we wouldn’t have jumped right to the marriage part. And that worries me sometimes. Is our history, or lack thereof, setting us up to fail from the get-go?
“You look like a woman with a lot on her mind,” he says in the morning as we’re getting ready to meet up with the others to go for a walk along the Royal Mile.
“There’s a lot going on,” I concede.
“Is that good or bad?” he asks curiously, watching my face.
“Neither.” I hesitate. “I guess last night got me thinking.”
“Please tell me you’re not upset about Sherry?”
“I am, but not at you. Not even at how rude and condescending she was. It was more about what she said. How she understands why I’m your wife when she realized I’m pregnant.”
“Babe, you can’t let my past come back to—”
“No, it’s not that. Don’t you see? I’m talking about reality.”
“Which reality?”
“The one where we wouldn’t be married if I hadn’t gotten pregnant. You can’t deny that.”
“No, I won’t deny it. We made the decision that was best for us, regardless of what people think.
You needed health insurance and I was able to provide it.
But don’t get it twisted, Summer. It would have cost a little more, but Sasha found several health insurance plans I could have paid for that would take you, even pregnant.
If I didn’t want to marry you, I wouldn’t have. ”
I hadn’t realized there were health insurance options.
That marriage wasn’t the only option.
When I’m quiet for what must feel like a long time, he asks, “Are you unhappy? Being married to me?” He looks a little unsure of himself, and I hate that. He’s been really good to me. He is good to me. I honestly have no complaints.
Just fear.
“Not at all,” I whisper, moving closer to him. “I’m incredibly happy. That’s why I’m scared. Things that seem too good to be true usually are.”
One side of his mouth quirks up in a sweet, sexy smile and he puts a hand on the side of my face.
“I love hearing that,” he says softly. “Hard times are coming, though. I don’t know when or what, but we both know things won’t always be easy.
If I’m traveling when you get toward the end of your pregnancy, we’re both going to be stressed about it.
There are going to be issues for us to work through.
For example—figuring out where we’re going to live when this tour is over. ”
I stare at him in confusion.
“You don’t want to live in New York? With me?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to—but the band is based in Minneapolis. That’s where we rehearse, write our music, plan for what’s next, come up with merchandising ideas...and most of that can’t be done long distance.”
“Do you even have a place to go in Minneapolis?” I ask.
“Not a place of my own. I gave up my apartment and sold my car before we left because I wanted to be as debt-free as possible, but I can crash at Angus’s house. The offer is open-ended. I could also go to my parents’, though that would be a last resort.”
“If you don’t have a home in Minneapolis, and I not only have one, but we can live there rent-free, wouldn’t it make sense to live in New York and commute the way Mick and Taryn are?”
“Mick and Taryn are only doing it because her son is in school and her mom takes care of him so they can work and travel but they’re going to be in Minneapolis as much as necessary. It’s different for you and me.”
“I have Dolly and other friends to help with the baby when you’re gone,” I say carefully. “If I move to Minneapolis, I’ll be all alone with a baby in a town where I don’t know anyone. Not to mention finding somewhere new, somewhere I trust, that will take my mom.”
“Like I said, we’re going to have to deal with some tough decisions, both together and individually. I have to think about the band because this is my only source of income, and how I’ll support us.”
“My only sources of income are in New York,” I reply.
“Not true. You can bake your pies anywhere.”
“We’d need a kitchen to bake them in, and I don’t know how I feel about living with Angus and Ryleigh long-term. Especially with a baby, as well as Mick going back and forth.”
“We wouldn’t do that. If we move to Minneapolis, we’ll rent or buy something.”
“I didn’t think you had that kind of money.”
“I don’t. Not yet. But I will.”
“What if—and please don’t get mad because I’m framing this in the context of taking care of our baby—the next album flops?”
He nods. “I know. That’s always a concern.
But we have to have faith. And one of our options would be to rent your house, so we have some kind of income coming in.
I have to believe that even if the next album doesn’t do well, it will still sell enough to pay off our debt to the label and bring in some money. Just not double-platinum money.”
Moving to Minneapolis.
Selling or renting out my house.
Moving my mom to an out-of-state facility.
Giving birth with a doctor I don’t know.
I’m suddenly overwhelmed, and I sink down on the edge of the bed.
“Babe?” Tate sits next to me and takes my hand. “Talk to me. What are you thinking?”
“I’m scared. I think…” I pull in a breath. “No, I need to give birth in New York. With the doctor I’m comfortable with—she’s been my gynecologist since I was seventeen—and Dolly. Close to my mom and my house.”
“Do I not figure in that equation?” he asks quietly.
“You do, of course. But like you said, what if you’re on tour?”
“Right now, there is nothing on the books beyond this tour, which ends in December. Nobody’s Fool is in a holding pattern as well, as Lexi makes a decision about whether or not she can tour with her son long-term.
If so, they’ll start a North American tour next year sometime, but we don’t know when.
I’ve already let Sasha know that March is out for me.
If something extraordinary comes up for the band, I spoke to Big Z from Onyx Knight and he said he would step in for me around that time. ”
“You did?” I didn’t realize he was thinking ahead, and I’m suddenly a little embarrassed at my lack of faith in him.
“Of course. I don’t want to miss anything. This is our baby. A first for both of us.”
“Please don’t be mad,” I say gently. “But I need a little time to wrap my head around moving. I guess I just assumed we would live at my house when you’re not on tour or actively recording.”
He puts my hand between both of his. “My job isn’t like other jobs.
There’s so much more to it. We write songs, rehearse, go in the studio to try out different sounds and experiment with instruments…
we have to be in the same place a good portion of the time.
I can travel back and forth to Minnesota if you don’t ever think you could live in Minneapolis.
But it’s going to mean a lot more time apart.
If we’re living in Minneapolis, I can be home for dinner or whatever.
Come home early if you or the baby is sick.
And we won’t waste a ton of money flying back and forth.
My job becomes more normal, so to speak. ”
I sigh and rest my head on the side of his arm.
It never crossed my mind that he would want me to move, but it makes sense. Selling my house allows me to donate a chunk of money to something new, something we buy together, which makes me feel like a contributing partner. But then I have nothing else. Nothing to fall back on.
But telling him that seems wrong, like I’m already dooming our marriage—our entire relationship—to fail. And he’s been nothing but good to me. Kind and supportive and patient.
“I know this is a lot,” he says after a while. “And it’s fair for you to want to wait until after the baby comes to make any big decisions. So let’s table this discussion for now, okay?”
“Okay.” I nod, but my head is spinning.
It feels like I’m going to cry, but I’m tired of this constant plethora of emotions guiding almost everything I do lately. I need to take a step back and consider all the options before I make any decisions.
“You okay?” he asks after a moment.
“Yes. I’m just going to let it all percolate for a bit.”
“Absolutely.” He kisses the side of my face. “Are you almost ready to go?”
“I need about ten minutes.” I stand up and hurry into the bathroom.
I still want to cry.
I step under the warm spray of the shower and close my eyes.
Then I burst into tears.
Stupid hormones.
I really need someone to talk to that isn’t Tate.
This is one of those times that I miss my mom.
So damn much. She would know what to do, guide me in the right direction. Instead, I feel like I’m teetering on the proverbial edge of something important—and freefalling into the unknown.