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  It also gave me a little more time to come to terms with the situation myself. I want this baby, this tiny human that’s a part of me. I’ve gone back and forth on my decision to not tell Tristan, knowing that if our roles were reversed, I would be pissed if he didn’t tell me. I just need some more time to think about it.

  “Lauren,” the nurse calls out.

  With a tight grip on my purse, I stand and follow her back to the exam room. She goes through a laundry list of questions: date of my last period, last date of intercourse, have I experienced sickness, cramping, bleeding, and so on. When I give her the exact date, she seems shocked.

  “Not many women can pinpoint the exact day,” she comments dryly.

  “Well I can,” I snarl back at her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m just… moody. Is it too early to blame it on hormones?” I laugh.

  “Honey, we’re women. You can always blame it on hormones. The doctor will be right in.” With that, she stands and leaves me to undress and slip into the gown she left for me on the exam table.

  “Hello, Lauren,” Dr. Long greets me a few minutes later. He takes a seat on the stool and sets his laptop on the table. “Your urine results are positive. You’re pregnant. Congratulations.”

  All I can do is nod. I knew what he was going to say, but having it medically confirmed by a physician is choking me up.

  “I would still like to run some blood work to check your levels. Says here that you’re certain of the day of conception.”

  My face heats. I’ve been seeing Dr. Long since I was sixteen and my mother decided it was time I go on birth control. Little did she know that seven years later, that birth control and a condom have failed me. “Yes.”

  “All right then. I’m going to see if we can hear the heartbeat. It’s usually around eight weeks or so, and you’re in the middle of week ten, so we should be able to hear it just fine. I’ll leave you to get dressed. I’ll be back in and see if we can hear the little one. Congratulations, Lauren.”

  After getting dressed, I lie back down on the exam table and stare up at the ceiling. I clasp my hands over my belly and fight back the tears threatening to break free.

  Pregnant.

  With a rock star’s baby.

  How did I get here?

  “Knock knock,” Dr. Long says, peeking around the door. “Ready, Lauren?”

  “Y-yes,” I croak out over the emotion clogging my throat.

  “Wonderful. If you’ll just pull up your shirt, we’ll see if we can hear the heartbeat.”

  I do as he says, just enough to bare my belly. “What’s that?” I ask him.

  “This is a Doppler.” He holds it up for me to see.

  “Looks like the thermometer with a microphone,” I ramble from the nerves coursing through me. This is a monumental moment in my life, and I’m here alone. Although I need to get used to being alone. No way Tristan Lewis, drummer for Soul Serenade, wants the responsibility of a baby.

  Dr. Long chuckles. “It’s about the same size.” He pushes a few buttons and places the wand on my belly, moving it around slowly.

  Panic starts to set in when I don’t hear anything. “Wh-what does that mean? Is something wrong?”

  “Not at all,” he replies, cool, calm, and collected. “Just need to place this in the right position to—” He cuts off when a loud galloping sound flows from the box in his hands.

  “Is that—” I don’t get the rest of the words our before he nods.

  “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

  “It’s so fast. Is the baby okay?” I ask, trying not to freak out.

  “Everything is great, Lauren. It’s normal for the baby to have a fast heart rate. Coming in at 156 beats per minute. That’s good and strong.”

  I nod, unable to form words for the fear of the tears falling.

  “Everything looks great, Lauren. Here is your prescription for prenatal vitamins. I’ll see you back in four weeks. Call us if you need anything before then.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Long.”

  Dr. Long smiles and leaves the room.

  Sitting up, I stand from the exam table and place my hands over my still-flat belly.

  Ten weeks pregnant. I wasn’t expecting this curveball, but I love this baby already. I’ve heard people say it, but until you know that you have a baby you created growing inside of you… it’s a love like no other. I always knew from the moment I took the test, even suspected, that I would keep the baby, but today, hearing the heartbeat?

  Life-changing.

  I signal to turn on her street and take a deep breath. It’s Thursday afternoon, and I know from our text messages that she’s off today. All weekend, in fact. I’m not sure how she’s going to react with me just showing up like this, but something is off with her.

  I fucking hate that I had to leave her after our first night together. I’ve been asking her to come to Nashville for a few days, and well, her refusal brought me to her. I wanted to be here earlier, but I opted to drive instead of fly. It’s a five-hour drive, which isn’t terrible, and the likelihood of getting noticed is far less than if I was in a crowded airport.

  Turning into her driveway, I park behind her car and kill the engine. I don’t waste time climbing out of my rental SUV and heading straight for her front door, knocking twice and then shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from beating against the door until she opens. I stand there longer than my patience likes, and just as I’m raising my hand to knock again, I hear the click of the lock and see the knob turn. When she pulls the door open, I don’t wait for an invitation, just step inside and wrap my arms around her.

  “Fuck, it’s good to see you,” I breathe into her hair.

  “T-Tristan, what are you doing here?”

  Pulling away, I take in her appearance. Her eyes are red and puffy. “What’s wrong?” I ask, holding on to both of her shoulders, staring into her eyes.

  “Nothing.” She turns her head, breaking eye contact.

  “Lauren, look at me.” She turns her head back, but her gaze is focused on my chest. Releasing one shoulder, I gently lift her chin so she’s looking at me. “What happened?”

  “I’m just not feeling well, that’s all. I didn’t expect company,” she mumbles.

  I watch her, looking for… I don’t know what. She seems exhausted. “Let’s get you to bed.” I release my hold on her and step aside. She moves back into the foyer and I shut the door behind us. Placing one arm around her, I bend and lift her into my arms, bridal style.

  “W-what are you doing?” she squeaks, rushing to wrap her arms around my neck and hold on.

  “I’m getting you to bed. You said you don’t feel well, and I can tell.” I don’t say anything else as I carry her to her room.

  Sitting her on the bed, next to her purse with the contents spread out, I reach for it and she springs into action.

  “I got it. Really, Tristan, I’m good. But you didn’t answer my question.” She rushes to shove everything back in her purse, zips it up, and then drops it on the floor on the other side of the bed. “What are you doing here?” she asks again, turning back to me.

  “I missed you.” The words just tumble from my lips. Not something I’ve ever felt when it comes to a woman. They’ve all been expendable to me, a dime a dozen—until I met Lauren. I’m sure laying all my cards out on the table like that is not a smart move, giving her all the power, but who am I kidding? She has power over me. She’s all I think about, all I want. I’m hoping this visit helps me define what exactly that means.

  “We talk every day.”

  I nod. “We do, but it’s not the same as seeing you.” I take a seat on the edge of the bed and cup her red blotchy face. I study her and I swear it looks as if she’s been crying. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Fine,” she says, placing her hand over mine.

  “I needed to see you, Lauren. Needed to feel your skin against mine.” To prove my point, I run my thumb across her cheek.

  Her eyes flutter closed, those long lashes of hers brushing her cheeks. “Is everyone here?” she asks.

  “No, just me.”

  Her eyes fly open. “What did you tell them? Do they know you’re here? Tristan, we’ve talked about this,” she rambles on, panic in her voice.

  “Hey.” I keep my voice low and soothing. “They don’t know I’m here.” I watch as the panic subsides. “Would it really be that bad if they did know?”

  Her big brown eyes fill with tears. “It’s better this way.”

  I want to argue with her, to tell her that she’s wrong, that it’s not better this way. I want to tell her that she needs to be ingrained in my life, that she needs to come home with me. But I don’t say any of those things. “Says you,” I mumble under my breath.

  She sighs. “Tristan.”

  The way my name sounds falling from her lips ties me in knots. “Let’s get you in bed,” I say, ignoring her silent plea. “Lie back.” I stand and hold the covers up for her. Relenting, she slides underneath. Leaning over her, I kiss her forehead. “I’m going to go grab my bag and lock up. I’ll be right back.”

  I take my time going out to my rental and grabbing my bag, taking in her little house. The paint’s peeling, and my gut twists. I want to fix that for her, but I know she’ll throw a fit. I have the means to take care of it, to take care of her, but she’s fighting it. Even more surprising is that fact that I want nothing more than to take care of her.

  I make quick work of locking the door before I make my way back to her bedroom. Dropping my bag on the floor by her dresser, I kick off my shoes, then unbutton my jeans and let them fall to the floor before climbing in bed beside her. She’s curled up in ball under the covers, he
r back facing me. Sliding closer, I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.

  “Can I get you anything?” I ask softly.

  “I’m good,” she murmurs.

  “I’m sorry you don’t feel well.”

  “I c-can’t believe you’re here.” Her voice cracks and I tighten my hold on her.

  “I told you. I missed you, Ren.”

  Her chest expands as she releases a heavy breath. “You’ve only called me that one other time,” she whispers.

  “I remember,” I tell her. And I do remember. It was our last night together.

  “Please,” she says, pressing her lips against my chest. “I need you.”

  “You sure this is what you want?”

  “I want you.”

  I can see it in her eyes: the desire, the need.

  Standing from the bed, I remove my boxer briefs, not taking my eyes from the vision before me. Lauren is lying on her bed, her long brown hair spread out on the pillow, her big brown eyes full of desire. She’s in nothing but a thin pair of lace panties. She lifts her hips with a coy smile and I know what she wants. Reaching over the bed, I slide the scrap of lace down her legs and toss it on the floor.

  “Fuck!” I say harshly under my breath.

  “What?”

  “I don’t have a condom. I didn’t plan for this,” I tell her.

  “What? The badass drummer is unprepared?” she kids, and then instantly the smile falls from her lips. “Are you…?” She hesitates, biting her bottom lip.

  “I’m clean, I promise. I always wrap, and even then it’s been a while for me.”

  “How long?” she asks.

  “Since the day I met you.”

  “Tristan?” It’s phrased like a question. “You’re the drummer for the hottest rock band out right now. You can’t expect me—”

  “I can and I do. You’re all I think about. The day we met, I was stunned by your beauty. Then there’re our messages and phone calls. How am I going to go chase some random pussy when I have you?” I ask her.

  Her face softens and she nods her acceptance. “I’m clean, and it’s been… a while for me too.”

  “How long?” I throw her words back at her, though for an altogether different reason. I hate the thought of another man seeing her like this, feeling and tasting her beauty.

  “Over a year,” she admits, covering her face.

  “Hey.” I grab her hands and pull them down. “That makes me a very happy man.” Leaning down, I capture her lips with mine.

  “Nightstand,” she mumbles against our kiss, and reluctantly I pull away. “There are condoms in the nightstand.”

  With more calm than I feel, I reach for the drawer, pull it open, and stick my hand inside, blindly feeling around until I have the box in my hand. With deft fingers, I rip the box open, the contents falling onto the bed. Lauren grabs one and holds it up for me, a shy smile on her face.

  I waste no time rolling the condom over my hard cock before climbing back on the bed. Settling on my knees between her legs, I take her in. She’s so fucking beautiful that she takes my breath away. That’s never happened to me before.

  “I want this. I want you,” she says again.

  She must think I’m hesitating, and I guess I am, but not for the reason she thinks. Leaning over her, I rest my weight on one elbow while lining myself up at her entrance. She’s hot and wet, and I already know before I even feel her heat around me that this is going to be fast.

  “Never seen anything as beautiful as you, Ren,” I say. I don’t usually waste time with pleasantries because it creates a certain amount of intimacy that I don’t want. Hell, half the time I take them from behind so I don’t have to look at them.

  Until Lauren.

  Her long lashes flutter, those brown eyes staring up at me. Unable to take it a minute longer, I push inside of her.

  “Yes.” She arches her back off the bed.

  I continue to thrust in and out of her, barely holding on to my control. She’s hot and wet and gripping my cock like a fucking vice. The feeling is indescribable. I fight the urge to close my eyes and just feel, but I don’t want to miss this, miss her when she falls apart underneath me for the first time.

  “Tristan?” she says, pulling my mind back to the present.

  “I was remembering that night. I have every second burned into my memory.”

  She doesn’t say anything, just relaxes into my hold, and we eventually let exhaustion take us as we both drift off to sleep.

  I’m hot and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Slowly I open my eyes and that’s when I remember him. Tristan. He’s snuggled up behind me, his big hand resting over my belly.

  I bite my tongue to keep the tears at bay. I need to tell him. I just about did, but then he told me that he needed to see me, to feel my skin against his, and I was reminded of what this is: a fling, nothing more. Although Logan and Kacen are doing fine with baby Drew and the lifestyle of the band, they want it. Kacen is hands-on, and Logan and Drew are his end game. He makes sure anyone and everyone who crosses their path knows that.

  Tristan is different.

  He’s never mentioned marriage, or kids. We’ve spent a lot of time talking and getting to know each other, and in all that time, all he’s ever said is that he’s happy for his ‘brothers,’ his three best friends and bandmates.

  I’m going to tell him. I just… need some time. I need to adjust to the news and wrap my head around being a single mom.

  “You awake?” his deep, sexy voice rumbles from behind me.

  I try to reply, but this baby is not happy. I throw his arm off me, put my feet to the floor, and run to the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet in time to lose the contents of my stomach. This is supposed to be morning sickness, not evening sickness. Dropping to my knees, I lean against the bathtub to make sure I’m done.

  “Hey, babe, you okay?” Tristan’s sleepy voice greets me from the doorway.

  “Fine,” I say, holding my hand over my mouth. I’m sure my breath is kicking at this point.

  Tristan pulls open the closet door and grabs a washcloth. I watch as he runs it under the faucet, wrings it out, and then steps toward me. Reaching over, he flushes the toilet and then sits on the edge of the tub. Lifting my hair off my neck, he places the cloth against my skin, letting my hair fall. With a kiss to my temple, he stands and grabs another cloth, repeating the process, but this time he snags one of the disposable cups I keep in a dispenser on the counter and fills it with water. He takes his seat back on the edge of the tub and hands me the cup. With shaking hands, I take it from him. Before I can take a sip, he’s wiping my mouth and my cheeks.

  “We need to take you to the doctor,” he says softly, still wiping my cheeks.

  “I’ve already been. I went earlier.”

  “What did they say? Do you have medicine? Where is it? I’ll go get it for you.”

  “No medicine. Just… just a virus.” I’m going to hell for lying to him, but I just can’t tell him. Not yet.

  “What do you need?”

  “Crackers. The doctor said they might help settle my stomach.” At least that part isn’t a lie.

  “Let me help you back in bed and I’ll go get you some.”

  “I have some in the kitchen, the pantry,” I tell him.

  “I’m not leaving you in here on the floor. Are you okay? You feel like you’re going to get sick again?”

  “No, I’m good. I think,” I add after a beat, because honestly, I have no idea when it’s going to hit. The doctor said that once they reach the twelve-week mark, it usually gets better for most women. I just hope and pray that I’m one of them.

  Standing, he bends down and scoops me up in his arms.

  “Wait!” He immediately stops, staring down at me. “I need to brush my teeth.”

  Gently, as if I were made of glass, he sits me on the edge of the sink. Without me asking him to, he grabs my toothbrush, adds toothpaste, and hands it to me. I shift to the side and do my business, though it’s hard to concentrate with his hands running up and down my back.

  I know he’s soothing me, and he’s being so damn sweet, but my heart is breaking.

  If he knew why I was sick, would he still be here?