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"I'm sorry if you feel like you don't have a choice," I continued. "You don't have to be a part of this if you want to. But I'm not going to end my pregnancy. Not unless nature decides to." I had no control over that, but it would break my heart.
"I would never ask you to do that," he said quickly. "Unless that was what you wanted to do and then I would be right there to hold your hand. Whatever you need, I'm here for it." A frown crossed his brow.
"Is this why you don't want to be with me? Because you think I would suck as a father?"
"No," I said immediately. "You'd make an amazing father. But you're also an amazing musician, and an amazing performer. The band is lucky to have you."
"Darn right they are," he said with a shallow smile. "Lucky for them, they know it too."
I smiled back and tried to ignore the way my heart flipped again. I wanted, so badly, to tell him I wanted to be with him, but I needed to make him understand first.
"Why aren't you angry that I didn't tell you?" I asked.
"You want me to be angry?" he asked.
"No, I just don't get why you're not. I mean, it takes a lot to make you mad, but I think I'd be mad if I was you." I hated secrets, and this was a big one.
He breathed out slowly. "I… I wish you had come and told me. I wish I'd done what I could to make you feel like you could tell me. Obviously I didn't. If I know you as well as I think I do, you spent a lot of time thinking about it and decided you had a good reason not to."
"I thought it was a good reason," I said. "Now, I'm not so sure." I hesitated for a moment then said, "I didn't want to ruin your life."
"Honestly, I'd hope you wouldn't want to do that," he said, "because my reputation is in your hands a lot of the time. You could destroy me if you wanted to." He gave me a lopsided smile.
I knew he was joking, but it was still a bit close to the bone.
"Are you really ready to be tied down to a kid?" I asked.
I watched him closely and saw the question sinking in gradually. I saw that he wanted to deny it.
"You're not, are you?" I asked. "That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to be forced into something you weren't ready for and didn't want. I wasn't going to tell you so you could go on living your life and enjoying yourself." Saying that out loud, I wasn't sure I believed it anymore.
My tongue darted over my lips. "And you can still do that. I'm not going to ask anything from you. No commitments, no time, no money. If working in the office for the label is too close, I'll find a job somewhere else." It wouldn't be easy while pregnant, but a clean break might be best for everyone, not just him.
"I thought you loved your job," he said.
"I do but—" I started.
"Then why would you give it up? Do you think I'm the kind of guy who would insist you disappear completely just to satisfy my own ego?" He actually looked stung at the suggestion.
"No," I said quickly.
"Then why would you suggest that? Just because I'm a rock star, doesn't automatically make me a dickhead." He paused for a moment. "Is this just your way of saying you want me out of your life? That you'd rather leave a job you love than see me or have me around your and our baby?"
My heart almost shattered at the words, 'our baby.' That wasn't something I thought I’d hear him to say. I certainly hadn't expected my own reaction to it. I wanted him to say it a hundred times, while we made plans to raise the kid together. The longer this conversation went on, the less likely it seemed that would happen. I felt like someone handed me a shovel and I was digging myself a deeper and deeper hole. Right now, I was up to my chin. Any moment now, I would be in completely over my head. With no way to get back out again.
"You don't get it." I was looking at him through a haze of tears. "I'm only trying to do what's best for you. So you don't have to feel saddled with a kid you don't want. You can forget about us and keep living your best life. Go out drinking with the boys, play ping-pong, tour the world. Then someday, if you're ready, with some other woman, you might settle down and have other kids."
"So you think," he said slowly, "that I would rather party than be with you and make a life for that baby growing in your belly? Because if that's what you think, then you clearly don't know me very well." He sounded as hurt as he looked, now.
"Maybe I don't," I agreed. "Maybe that's a good enough reason not to be together. We hardly know each other." Even as I said that, I knew it wasn't true. We'd known each other for a couple of years, and always got along well. Deep down, I think I knew he wasn't just all about having fun. Maybe that was just an excuse, because I was scared.
He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "So you've made up your mind, have you? You've decided you don't want to be with me, you're going to do this by yourself, whether I like it or not." It was a blunt statement, issued heavy with emotion and choked words. He sounded like he was struggling to keep it all together.
How was I supposed to respond to that? None of that was what I wanted. I wanted to be with him so badly it was almost physical pain. I wanted to raise our baby with him. I wanted him to teach our kid to play guitar, and to be a decent person like he was.
I wanted to tell him all of that and more. I could have sat beside him on the flight to Sydney and told him everything. Because I'm me, by the time we arrived I would have made a roadmap for the rest of our lives. That, right there, was a good reason why he should get up right now and run away.
What sort of person was so clinical about their lives? Yeah, a boring, professional, efficient…
