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I licked my lips. "I'm pretty sure the same handbook that says don't sleep with the talent also says don't get pregnant to them."
"It's none of my business, but does he know?" Roman asked.
"No," I said. "I just found out myself. I'm really not sure what to do next." Which was my roundabout way of asking for help or advice. Something. Anything.
"Honestly," he said slowly, "speaking as a father, I think you should at least tell him, but that's your call. I don't want to keep secrets from the guys, but this is your secret. At least for as long as you can keep anyone from noticing." He glanced down at my still-flat belly.
I gave a short laugh. "Yeah, sooner or later people will be able to tell." Hopefully later rather than sooner.
I rested my arm across my leg and said, "Do you think I should quit? Or ask the label if I could move into a job in the office and not out on tour?"
"First of all, no, I don't think you should quit," he said immediately. "Second of all, we only have about six weeks left of the tour. By the time they found someone to replace you, and frankly I think you're irreplaceable, we'd be back home anyway. Finally—" he stopped until I turned to look at him.
"I don't think running away ever helped anyone, or solved any of their problems. I can't make you stay if you don't want to, but the label can, because you have a contract. So, I think you're stuck with us for now."
"Right." His blunt words were what I needed right now. "That's true. I don't want to get sued. I'd never find another job again." The label probably wouldn't sue me, but no one would touch me. No one in the record industry anyway.
"This just gets more and more complicated." I sighed.
"Does it?" he asked gently. "Is it possible you're overthinking?"
"Who me?" I asked ironically. "It's slightly plausible." Okay it was very plausible. If thinking with my superpower, then overthinking was my kryptonite.
"I think I know you well enough to know you'll figure this out," he said with more certainty than I felt about myself. "You're not going to go off and do anything crazy."
"No, because I'm professional, efficient and reliable," I said with more bitterness than I should probably have.
"You say that like those are bad things, but none of them are." He crossed his legs at his knees and sat back against the bench. "All of those things are going to be what gets you through the next nine months. Not to mention eighteen years."
I groaned. That certainly seemed like a really, really long time.
"Trust me, it's true what they say when they suggest the time goes by too quickly. I feel like my daughter was just born and like that—" he snapped his fingers, "she's almost a teenager." His mouth drew back at the sides.
"You miss her a lot when you're not home?" I said softly. "It must be difficult not being around all the time."
"It is. I miss her like crazy and I know she misses me, but we video chat a lot and I know my parents take good care of her. She might come on tour with me when she gets a bit older. Hell, she might be the tour. She's a budding guitarist and singer-songwriter. Part of me wants to keep her as far away from the industry as possible, but I can't stop her from following her dreams. All I can hope is that I've raised her well enough to make good choices."
"You’re very proud of her, aren’t you?" I said. His expression softened when he spoke about her. He clearly adored her.
"She's pretty amazing," he agreed. "You'll feel the same way about yours. If I remember correctly, it takes a while for it to feel real. Maybe it's different for the person carrying the kid and having the morning sickness and the cravings, but for me I…" He looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure I really grasped that there was a tiny life inside my wife's belly." He looked down towards the grass.
"You still miss her." I said gently.
"Not a day goes past when I don't think about Antonia and everything we lost when she died," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I think about the police report that popped up on my phone. I felt bad for the people who lost a loved one. It wasn't until a couple of hours later I learned it was her in that car. That idiot who got drunk and got behind the wheel…"
He shook his head. "It's not something I'll ever forgive or forget."
"I don't blame you," I said. "Sometimes people make crappy life choices and other people have to wear the consequences. Was your daughter in the car too?" The expression on his face was heart-wrenching. I can't imagine what he must have gone through, losing the woman he loved like that. I hoped someday he would be able to move on to someone else, whether it was Ripley or not. He deserved to be happy.
"Thank God, no. The police said she'd be gone too if she was. Antonia just dropped her off at her parents' house so she could get some Christmas shopping done. I suppose I should be thankful for that. I just wish…"
I put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. To your family."
He turned his face to look at me. "Me too. I guess the point is to live every day as best you can, because you never know when the rug will be pulled out from under your feet."
"Is this also your roundabout way of suggesting I tell Axel?" I asked. "Just in case anything happens to me. Or him." Why did that thought hurt so much? It wasn't as though we were a couple or anything. He might be the father of my kid, but at this point that was all.
