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Axl was lying on his belly in front of the TV, occasionally eyeing Michael in between slurps on his bottle. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to break the “getting to know you” tension.
Getting schooled by a baby, man. Better and better.
“Oh, you’re still here?” Chloe sounded dismissive.
“I was waiting until you got done shaving or washing your hair or whatever so we could talk.”
“I was cleaning the kitchen and working on my checkbook. No shaving. No washing. It may come as a surprise to you, but women do other things in a day besides ready themselves for a man.”
Axl tried to push himself into a sitting position with his chubby arms. He managed to, but it took him a second. “Nicky?”
Michael inhaled deeply. Right. The baby who didn’t have any interest in him was all about Michael’s stepfather. His kind of stepfather. Cripes, their family relationship was complicated.
“No, Axlsaurus, Nicky can’t come over today. He’s busy.”
Axl pouted and went back to Mickey.
“Nick spends a lot of time here, huh?” He wasn’t going to be jealous about that. He’d barely known Chloe and Axl existed last week. How could he begrudge them spending personal time with her ex-lover?
Except he did. A lot. He wanted to be the one Axl turned to, which was illogical since he couldn’t even figure out how to talk to the kid.
He wasn’t good at the goo-goo gaa-gaa stuff. Just not his bag. Seemed hard to believe it was Nick’s either. The guy wasn’t a coo-er in any shape or form.
“Not that much. He stops by now and then to see how we’re doing. Snake was his best friend.”
“Snake, your ex-fiancé.”
“His name was William, but yeah, you know. Stage name. How come you don’t have one?”
“Because I’m not a persona. I’m just Michael, who happens to play guitar.”
She narrowed her eyes before sitting down beside him on the rug. That was a bit of an overstatement, because she was actually seated closer to Axl. “Juliet is pretty,” she said after a moment.
“Huh?”
“Juliet. Your bandmate. She’s a beautiful woman. Have you…”
“God, no. Are you kidding me? Only an idiot sleeps with someone in their own band.”
She cast a glance at Axl, who appeared blissed out thanks to Mickey and his playhouse. “Is that so? Funny, I know a bunch of people who have.”
“Tell me if those bands are still together in five years, then we’ll talk.”
“Why are you even here?”
Not that again. “You really want me to spell it out? I will, if you like hearing it.” He planted his hands on the carpet and leaned toward her, grinning as she leaned the exact amount of distance he covered in the opposite direction. “You. Are. My. Wife. That means we need to do something about this situation, not just sweep it under—”
“Aha!” Axl giggled in his loud, boisterous—and yes, semi adorable—way, tipping over on his side.
Michael glanced at the kid. “Is he okay?”
“Those are sounds of enjoyment. Yes, he’s fine.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Have you never been around a child? Like ever?”
“No. My brother is older, and I don’t date chicks who are mothers.”
She reeled back from him as if he’d slapped her. In a way, he had. Fitting, since he wanted to slap himself over the stupid remark. “But marrying one is okay?”
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”
