37. One Second With You
37
ONE SECOND WITH YOU
MAGGIE
Tear Myself Apart By Tate McRae
I didn’t come on this tour to fall in love. And yet, what I have with Felix feels as natural and inevitable as breathing. He’s become my home in ways I never expected, just like Joey has always been. Which is why what his father said cuts so deeply. Pregnant or not, we’re still fumbling our way through who we are as individuals, let alone as a couple.
My feelings for Felix are overwhelming, a tidal wave I can’t control. They scare me, but the thought of being without him is worse—a hollow ache I can’t bear to imagine. The words I finally manage to say taste bitter, like betrayal.
“You know your dad is right,” I murmur, leaning against the doorframe, my arms crossed tightly over my chest as if I could hold myself together.
Felix looks up from where he’s sitting, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat. But then he moves, crossing the room in two quick strides, and suddenly I’m wrapped in his arms.
“Let’s not think about any of that until we know for sure,” he says, his voice low but steady as he shakes his head. His fingers trace soothing circles on my back, and I close my eyes, letting myself lean into him.
He’s right, of course. We can’t plan for something that might not even be real. But the uncertainty gnaws at me. Shouldn’t I feel something—some instinct, some undeniable sign that my body is carrying something greater than myself? The absence of that feeling makes me doubt everything. Maybe it’s because I’m scared. Or maybe it’s because I’m not ready.
I’ve had two days to think about this, two days to wrestle with the possibility, and I’m still no closer to clarity. The prospect terrifies me, but when I look at Felix, my mind betrays me, conjuring images of a future I never thought I’d want. Would a baby have his dark, unruly hair? His sharp, mischievous eyes? His smile that makes the world feel a little less heavy?
Felix pulls away just enough to grab his phone. He puts it on speaker, and a familiar voice answers on the other end.
“What’s up, kid?” Dusty’s gruff tone crackles through the line, and I blink in confusion. What is he doing?
“I need you to reschedule tonight’s performance,” Felix says, his voice calm but firm.
“What? No!” I lunge forward, trying to grab the phone, but Felix anticipates me. He holds it against his chest, his other hand gently but firmly keeping me at bay. His eyes lock onto mine, burning with determination.
“I know what you’re gonna say, Maggie, but I’m making a choice. I’m choosing you.”
The weight of his words slams into me, a blow that steals the breath from my lungs. I love him for this—for putting me first, for stepping up when I need him most. But at the same time, guilt churns in my stomach. I hate that I’ve put him in this position. It takes two people to make a baby, but I can’t shake the feeling that this is somehow my fault. If I’d been more responsible, this wouldn’t even be a question. He wouldn’t have to make this kind of sacrifice.
Dusty’s voice cuts through the silence. “This ain’t a doctor’s appointment. I can’t just reschedule.”
“Can we add it as a stop at the end of the tour or something?” Felix pleads, his jaw tightening.
Dusty sighs, long and exasperated. “You better be dead or almost dead, because if you don’t show up, you sure as shit will be.”
Felix rolls his eyes, his frustration evident in the way his shoulders tense. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“What is so fucking important?” Dusty snaps. “Your voice sounds fine, and if you broke a fucking leg, I’ll wheel you out on stage myself.”
“I just need the night off,” Felix says, his voice rising with agitation.
“I get that, kid, but this industry doesn’t work like that. You either want this or you don’t, because those fans sure as hell want it,” Dusty says, his tone sharp.
Felix pinches the bridge of his nose, his conflict written all over his face. I can feel it radiating off him, a storm of emotions he’s trying to keep in check. He’s caught between two worlds, two responsibilities, and I hate that I’m the one pulling him in a different direction.
“The question is, do you want it?” Dusty asks with an ominous tone.
I reach out, grabbing his arm and forcing him to look at me. My eyes plead with him, trying to convey what I can’t say out loud: it’s okay. We both have jobs to do, and no matter what happens, the world will keep turning. We’ll figure it out. Together.
His eyes search mine.
“You want it because you’re not the person I first met if you don’t want it,” I tell him.
“I want it,” he says finally, his voice low and begrudging.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Dusty replies.
Felix hangs up, and I step closer, rising onto the balls of my feet to kiss him. His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against his chest, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away. In his embrace, I feel safe in a way I never have. What did I do to deserve someone like this—someone so selfless, so steady?
“Now what?” he asks, his voice soft but tinged with uncertainty.
I step back, letting out a shaky sigh. “I was on my way to the drugstore to get a test when you stopped me earlier,” I admit. Felix’s jaw tightens. “I just wanted to know for sure before I said anything to you.”
“I hate to think of you having to do that alone,” he says.
“We have time before the show tonight,” I offer, chewing on my fingernails. The thought of knowing—of finally having an answer—both terrifies and relieves me.
* * *
Felix pulls the car into the drugstore parking lot, the tires crunching over loose gravel as he shifts into park. He reaches for the door handle, but I stop him, my hand landing on his with a soft but firm grip over the steering wheel. I can feel the tension radiating off him, like a live wire just beneath the surface.
“You can’t go in there with me,” I say. His brows knit together, a deep line forming between them as he shakes his head, his jaw tightening.
“Someone could see what we’re buying—the clerk, a fan, who knows,” I explain. My stomach churns as I imagine the headlines, the whispers, the invasive questions.
“You think I care about that?” he argues.
“I don’t want the whole world knowing our business. That’s why I need to go in there by myself.” My tone sharpens, and I see the resistance in his expression falter. He leans back into the driver’s seat, his knuckles whitening as he grips the steering wheel. His breaths come heavier, and I can almost hear the internal battle waging in his head.
“Fuck, I hate this.” His voice cracks slightly as he slams a fist against the wheel.
I lean over the console and kiss his cheek, trying to get him to understand. “I know,” I nuzzle my cheek against his and then pull back. “I’ll be right back.”
Before he can argue, I slip out of the car and walk across the lot. The aisles stretch out before me, a maze of brightly colored boxes and labels shouting for attention.
My sneakers squeak faintly against the linoleum floor as I wander, my eyes darting nervously to the few other shoppers. When I finally find the aisle with the pregnancy tests, my stomach flips. There are so many options—too many. My hands tremble as I grab a generic one, the box slightly crushing in my grip. It feels like it weighs a hundred pounds.
Thank God for self-checkout. I shove the test into a paper bag, avoiding eye contact with anyone around me. My heart races as I make my way back to the car. Felix drums his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel. His gaze flicks to the bag in my lap, then back to the road as he pulls out of the lot. The tension in the car is palpable, like a storm waiting to break. I can feel his energy vibrating beside me, his leg bouncing slightly as he drives.
“What…” he starts, his voice hesitant. “What if…”
“We don’t have to talk about this right now,” I cut him off, shaking my head. My throat feels tight, and I can’t bring myself to look at him. The words feel too big, too heavy, and I’m not ready to carry them.
“I think we do, though,” he presses, his tone softening but still firm.
“I’m not ready,” I admit. “I’m not ready to decide anything until I know for sure.”
“That’s fair,” he concedes, though I can tell it’s killing him to leave it at that.
When we pull into a parking spot near his trailer, he turns off the engine but doesn’t move to get out. I shift in my seat, turning to face him. “I don’t know what I want,” the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I’m young— we’re young.”
Felix stares out the windshield, his jaw working and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He nods slowly, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on his thigh.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, my voice tentative. The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating.
When he finally looks at me, his expression is unreadable. “I’m thinking that I don’t get an opinion in this.”
“It’s okay to say that this isn’t something you want,” I tell him, my voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside me. “It doesn’t make you an asshole.”
Relief flashes across his face, but there’s something else there too—a tightness in his jaw, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He’s trying so hard to be strong for me, but I can see the cracks in his armor.
“Whatever happens, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice solemn but sure.
I believe him. I believe every word. This is the man who would cancel a show for me, who would disappoint thousands of fans, who would risk his career—all for me. The thought sends a pang through my chest, equal parts gratitude and guilt.
He gets out of the car and jogs around to open my door before I can stop him. “I can get out of the car myself,” I say, a small laugh escaping despite the tension.
He scratches the back of his neck, his foot scuffing against the pavement. “It’s just something I can do.”
I step closer, cupping his face in my hands. His skin is warm, and his stubble brushes against my palms. “Remember when you said I shouldn’t blame myself?” I ask.
He nods, his eyes searching mine.
“Well, then you shouldn’t either.” Before he can argue, I press my lips to his, silencing him. The kiss is soft, lingering, a silent promise that we’ll face whatever comes next together.
We walk hand in hand across the lot to his trailer. I head for the bathroom, the paper bag crinkling in my grip. Felix follows me, his footsteps heavy behind me.
“Excuse you?” I say, placing a hand on the bathroom door handle.
“I don’t want you to do this alone,” he says.
“You’re not watching me pee on a stick,” I retort, arching an eyebrow at him. He raises his hands in surrender, stepping back, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I’ll be right out,” I promise, shutting the door behind me.
My hands tremble as I open the box and read the instructions. It’s straightforward enough, but my heart pounds in my chest like a drumbeat as I take the test and set it on the vanity. I start a timer on my phone and step back into the bedroom.
Felix is perched on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees. When he sees me, he opens his arms, and I go to him without hesitation. He pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me like a shield. I lay my head on his shoulder, breathing him in.
Three minutes feels like an eternity. I lift my head, desperate to break the tension. “So, do you think Dex is really dating Ivy?” I blurt out.
Felix’s lips twitch into a smile, and then he laughs. “Who the fuck knows with that guy,” he says, running a hand over my hair.
“I mean, they’re such opposites.” I shake my head.
Felix shrugs. “Sometimes that’s what makes things work.”
“That’s true,” I say, lifting a knowing eyebrow. “You eat healthy…”
“And you eat like a toddler,” he teases.
“You’re annoyingly clean.”
“And you leave tampons under my fucking pillow,” he jokes, and then we’re silent for a beat. “And you can’t dance if your life depends on it.”
“Hey!” I smack him playfully in the arm.
He stands up, pulling me with him but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he places my arms around his neck and then holds onto my waist while he sways me to some silent song in his head. This time, I let him lead.
“But the most important things are what we have in common,” he says.
I hold onto the back of his neck. “What’s that?”
“That family is everything,” he points out. “Work ethic.” He brushes his thumb over my cheek. “And generosity.” He sighs. “So, I can put up with your shit all over my bathroom because what’s important is what’s in here.” He presses a finger to my chest, and I smile.
I lean into him as we sway in each other’s arms. “You know there’s no music, right?”
He taps his head. “It’s in here.”
“That’s not helpful for me,” I laugh as I try to sway with him.
He digs his phone out of his pocket and taps through until he finds what he wants. He sets it on the counter. “The recording is bad, but it’s something I’ve been working on.”
The song plays and it’s just Felix’s voice and his guitar.
One second with you,
And your smile was tattooed on my heart
My life, my world,
Was no longer what it was
Up until that
One second with you…
It’s perfect.
We sway to the music and occasionally he turns me around. I stumble because of course he’s right, I’m a horrible dancer, but he makes me better.
The sound of my phone alarm makes me jump and I can feel Felix’s arms tighten. He stops moving and I look up at him. “Not until the song is over,” I say, laying my head against his chest and closing my eyes.
We stand like that, gently swaying together until the song ends, and I drag in a breath. We walk to the bathroom hand in hand. The test sits on the edge of the vanity, small and unassuming but carrying the weight of the world. Felix squeezes my hand, his eyes meeting mine. “It’ll be okay,” he says, and I believe him. It has to be.
I pick up the test, my heart pounding in my ears. One line. I double-check the box. One line means I’m not pregnant. Relief washes over me, but it’s tinged with something else—something I can’t quite name.
I’m not pregnant.
So why don’t I feel as happy as I thought I would?