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“Oh yeah? Why the hell not?”
“Because I lost someone after the last time I performed, all right? And I don’t want to sit here and pour out my heart to you, because the truth is I don’t fucking have one left. So if you do, good for you. I wish you well.” Mal rose. “If we’re done…”
“Actually, no, we’re not done. I’m camping out here for a while. My wi—Chloe has my place, so I need somewhere to crash.”
Mal’s brows lifted. “You gave your non-wife your apartment?”
“I’m hoping she’ll still want to be my wife when this is all said and done. In the meantime, I’m giving her space.” Michael grabbed one of the couch pillows and tucked it under his head as he stretched out. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take the sofa.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t. Did it ever occur to you that maybe you’d cramp my style?”
“No. You’ll just fuck her and make me listen.”
Michael turned out to be correct in his assumption. Six long hours later, he wished he’d remembered to bring in his bags from the car. Headphones would obviously be a crucial part of staying at Mal’s.
One night there turned into two. Two turned into three. Three turned into more.
In no time, Michael had missed a couple of rehearsals, one for the biggest night of all—the Spectrum Awards. He hadn’t formally decided not to go, but apparently between being all stoic and shit with Chloe and moving in temporarily with the sex machine known as his brother, he’d lost some of his mojo.
They didn’t need him for the telecast. His band could handle stuff just fine without him. Yes, they’d be performing, but only one song and Elle could do fulfill his role. She’d be thrilled to take on lead duties for once.
He didn’t want to abdicate his responsibilities. Hadn’t he just given Chloe a big ass song and dance about becoming a good man for her? Too bad that only seemed to take precedence when she was actually part of his life.
“All right, asshole. You’ve spent enough time desecrating my sofa.” Mal kicked the end of it. “Either shell out for rent or get gone.”
“Where’s the brotherly love?” Michael rolled over and groaned. He’d been in the middle of a particularly good dream about a naked Chloe too. She’d baked him a cake inscribed with the words “lettuce pray” which he didn’t get, but dreams were weird.
“In that crater your ass created in my couch. Look, if you love her this much, why are you still here?”
Michael debated acting tough, like Mal would in the same situation. But he was not his brother, and his toughness had vanished in the face of many days of radio silence. “I’m giving her time to decide I’m the love of her life.”
“Or to forget about you.”
“That’s a possibility too.”
“While she’s living in your pad and running up your utilities.”
“I think I can cover her wild Wi-Fi and hot water usage,” Michael said drily. “God, you are so romantic. My dick is practically quivering.”
“This isn’t about me. You don’t see me crying in my cornflakes or skipping out on my responsibilities.”
“No, you won’t even take them on. Ryan can’t play. He’s going to go on stage at the show and he’s going to be hurting when all you have to do to play drums is flex those mondo muscles and snarl.”
“Wrong answer. These aren’t my responsibilities. I get that you want me there, even need me there, and I’d like to help but—”
“But you won’t.”
“You’re talking open-ended. A life sentence. I don’t even know what I’ll feel like doing a month from now, and you expect me to sign on forever?”
“You’d be surprised. Sometimes even forever doesn’t seem long enough.” Michael forced himself into a sitting position. “Okay, forget forever. Let’s just talk a couple months. How about that? Six months to start. If you decide by, say, mid-September that you’re sick of the band, then you’re free. No more phone calls, no more pressure.”
“And Stepmommy Dearest is okay with that too?”
“She will be,” Michael said confidently.
In truth, Michael had no idea if Lila would go for that plan. But she wanted Mal in the band, and six months of Mal was better than none.
Mal cracked his knuckles. “All right. You got yourself a deal. But now you’re really coming with me to Mom’s shindig next month, and I don’t care if you’ve got your wifey back by then. I’m not dealing with that shitstorm alone.”
