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Nights like that had tested her resolve not to sit in the middle of the floor and throw a hissy fit that would put her son’s to shame.
She missed him.
Missed him with an ache so big that her entire chest felt carved out. She slept in their bed—when she actually slept anyway—and she washed in their shower. She even managed to stand on their balcony and soak in the ocean scent without wanting to fling herself off the edge.
Every moment felt a little separate, a little less. The entire place felt less because Michael’s booming laugh was missing. His shoulders didn’t fill up the doorways, and his minty scent didn’t show up in the sheets anymore.
She’d had a particularly bad moment in the shower as she bawled over his body wash.
So, yeah…she’d passed heartache and landed squat in the middle of pathetic. She’d nearly texted him a dozen times. Usually at two in the morning when she was at her weakest. He wanted her to take some time to figure out if forevers fit in a few short months of knowing him.
She’d known within a half a heartbeat.
It seemed ridiculous to own that statement, but deep down, she knew it was true.
Her reaction to him on stage had certainly started her journey. Dancing in the club had cinched the lust factor. The only problem was that lust was easy. It was pheromones, hormones, and chemicals making the correct brew that ended in an orgasm if a person was lucky.
It was the love part that had snuck up on her.
The love part that she hadn’t prepared for.
The moment she’d seen the love bloom in his eyes for her son, she’d been so very lost.
Chloe crouched in front of Axl’s high chair. “I think we should go get Michael. Do you think that’s a good plan?”
“Mika.” He slapped the tray and crumbs and orange juice splattered both of them.
She laughed until tears started dripping from her stupid eyes. Yeah, it was well past time to go get him. She unbuckled Axl and swung him onto her hip. She was halfway out the door when she realized he wasn’t wearing any pants.
Some things couldn’t be corrected, no matter how hard she tried. Michael had broken her kid when it came to wearing clothes. She detoured into Axl’s room and got him dressed, grabbed her purse, then opened her front door.
Juliet and Ryan stood in the hallway.
“Oh, thank God.” Juliet pushed her back inside. “We need to talk, girlfriend.”
“What are you doing here?” A sudden and visceral fear left her breathless. “Is Michael okay?”
“No, he’s a hot mess. You guys are so fucking stupid.” Her dark eyes widened. “Uh, sorry child-like creature.”
“Fuck!” Axl said with crystal clear clarity.
“Sure, you can say that word no problem.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Come on in.”
“You need to fix Michael. He’s broken, and I can’t deal with a broken guitarist in our band.” Juliet paced the length of her kitchen, then back to the fridge. She opened it and peered in. “Do you have something to drink?”
“Diet Coke or Dr. Pepper.”
“Bless you.” She rummaged around and pulled two out. She handed one to Ryan
and cracked the top on her own.
That was fine, Chloe didn’t want one anyway. Resisting the urge to kill Michael’s bandmate might take a bit more than she had in her reserves.
Ryan sat at the table. “Don’t mind Miss Rude here. Michael’s been out of touch since you guys had your meltdown. He managed to play the show, but then he split.”
“That’s not like him.” Chloe went to the fridge and pulled out a soda for herself, and a juice box for Axl. She plopped him back into his highchair and set the box down in front of him. She stabbed the box with the straw and took a quick sip so he wouldn’t geyser it everywhere.
“Exactly.” Juliet took a sip from her bottle. “Michael’s the responsible one. I can’t be taking up that job in the band. We might as well break up now.”
