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“So you do date women with children.”
“Not exactly, no. Most of the groupies don’t have kids at home.”
“Are you kidding me? You only date groupies?” Her distaste was palpable. Then her big brown eyes widened. “Oh my God, I need to get tested. So many times. Who knows where you’ve been?”
“Are you kidding me? You think I fu—”
She made a shrill noise that made him pop his finger in his ear to save his eardrum.
“B-a-b-y,” she spelled out. “Keep your filthy language to yourself.”
“B-a-b-whyyyy,” Axl mimicked, making himself laugh so hard he had to clutch his stomach.
In spite of himself, Michael chuckled. “Guess you must spell that out a lot.”
“I have guests other than you who forget to watch what they say.”
“Oh, do you now? What kind of guests?”
“If you’re asking if I date groupies, no. I gave them up for Lent.”
“It’s not Lent yet. Besides, your particular weakness is rockstars, isn’t it? You’re up to three now. And you know what they say about three.”
She pursed her lips so hard that they went white around the edges. “How—it wasn’t really three. It was only one. Snake was the one who counted. The others were wild weekends.”
The pang that struck him made him catch his breath.
She was right. So right that he had no reason to even be there. He should’ve taken Lila up on her offer to make it all go away.
He didn’t belong in a situation like this. He’d said it himself. He “dated” groupies. The last time he’d had an actual girlfriend had been so long ago he didn’t remember.
Common theme with you, pal.
“It only counts as a wild weekend if both parties remember every last detail.” He circled his finger on the rug and tilted his head. “We should work on that, don’t you think?”
“No.” Her breathing sped up audibly. “Why? What does it matter?”
“We can figure out what happened and what went wrong. You know, for next time. In my case, for the next time I see a woman in the audience and get so turned on by her that I have to marry her.”
A faint smile played around her lips. “You didn’t marry me because you were turned on. If we really are even married. I have my doubts it’s all real.”
Of course she did, because she hadn’t seen the marriage license yet. Instead of showing it to her and probably ruining her night before she had to go work, he scooted across the rug and reached for her left hand.
She gasped as if he’d gone for a tit grab. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking at the ring I bought my wife. My prerogative, I think.” Belatedly, he realized he couldn’t look at what she wasn’t wearing.
He should’ve checked out her hand before, surreptitiously. Then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten yet another short-armed punch to the chest at holding her hand and finding it bare.
So what if he still had his on? He just was the chump who’d forgotten to take it off. That was all.
“Never mind.” He let her hand drop. “Guess I’m too late.”
“I don’t wear it. Why should I? It wasn’t a real marriage.” She darted a glance at his hand and made a soft noise in her throat before lifting her gaze to his. “Why? Why are you still wearing it?”
He went with the easiest reason, since trying to decipher the truth was a lot harder. “Getting married to you is the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”
Her throat worked before she shifted her focus to her now sleeping son. He’d flopped over facedown and had his bottle tucked under his arm. “I have to put him down.”
