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“She hot?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
I laughed. “I mean, if you’re into grandma porn, sure. She’s in her sixties, I think.”
“Hey, older women know their way around a penis.”
“Well, she may be down. You’ll have to ask her.” I couldn’t wait to see Carter hit on Aunt Meg. She’d either give him a complete dressing down, or she’d be into it, and I’d potentially catch them in bed together at some point. Christ, that made me cringe. But Carter had a way of charming women of all ages. Even baby girls adored him. There was something enigmatic about him. It was one of many reasons he was so popular with the fans.
“So, the aunt’s cool but mom’s still pissed about you abandoning her.”
“Yeah.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin and downed the rest of my water bottle. “I’m trying, though. I need her to forgive me.”
“How come?”
“Because we’ll be co-parenting a kid, and I don’t want him growing up watching us fight and bicker all the time. We’re family now.”
He arched his brows. “You’re actually going to try to be involved in his life?”
“Well, yeah. Why the fuck would you ask me that?”
“How will you make it to T-ball games and PTA meetings when we’re touring eleven months of the year?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “We’ll have to cut back like we’ve talked about. Or build in more time off in between, so I can fly home to be with him.”
“That’ll get old,” he said quietly. “Trust me.”
“You don’t understand,” I protested. “It’s different once it’s your kid. I already miss him, and I’ve only known him a week. I can’t imagine letting months pass without seeing him.”
Carter averted his gaze, opening another bottle of water. “I dunno, man. Seems to me once we get back out on the road, we’re going to get our groove on, and home will seem far away.”
“Maybe because none of us have anything to go home to,” I said. “Tommy’s divorced, Kellan brings Didi on the road with him when they’re not fighting, and the rest of us are perpetually single. I think we’d all feel differently if we had something to go home to.”
“Look, I’m the wrong person to ask,” he said quietly. “For me, being sober is just never-ending monotony. I don’t like golf. I don’t give a shit about fast cars or big houses. Couldn’t care less about clothes. So far, women bore me after a few hours. The only fun in my life was being high and playing music. I can still play music but being on stage an hour a day leaves twenty-three hours to fill with fucking nothing. I’ve already heard all the psychology, so don’t bother with all that. I know I can still live an exciting, fulfilling life without drugs.” He rolled his eyes. “And I’m working on it. But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
“I’m sorry, man. I know addiction is hard.”
“You don’t know,” he said, an edge to his voice I’d never heard from him before. “Until you’ve lived it, you don’t know. Anyway, you still got the hots for Presley or you just being nice so you can see your kid?”
“Jury’s still out,” I admitted. “I don’t know her beyond the night we spent together. She’s sweet, though.”
“If I recall, she was manipulative and ambitious.”
“I may have been grumpy when I said that stuff,” I admitted.
“So, there’s a possibility of the two of you getting together for real?” He eyed me suspiciously. “You know a kid isn’t a good reason to be with the mother.”
“All I said was that she’s sweet,” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded sheets of paper I’d written the song on. “And she inspired a song.”
“She inspired a song.” He took the papers all while giving me a look. “Dude. You’re acting like a guy who’s in love.”
“I spent one night with her. Gimme a break.”
He wiggled the papers I’d just handed him. “And a year later you wrote a song about her.”
I probably didn’t want to mention that the idea for the song had been in my head since that night.
Christ, I had a hard-on for my baby mama, and she wasn’t even speaking to me.
This wasn’t going to end well for me.
