Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(30)

My turn to sigh.

“Liz?”

“Yeah?”

“What are we gonna do?” He sounded almost afraid.

I gave in and rolled onto my side, all the better to watch him. If only he looked worse in profile. Instead, the dominant nose and plush lips seemed almost majestic somehow. The bastard. I inched closer, studying him. Eyelids closed, lips sealed shut. His forehead had smoothed out in repose, the curve of his cheekbones so obvious. I’d never really gotten to stare at him to my heart’s content. All the same old feelings rushed up inside, only now there was more. So much more. A tiny bit of him and me was growing inside my body, making a permanent connection between us. It was kind of terrifying. I wondered if she’d have his mouth or his eyes.

The room stayed silent.

“Ben?”

I waited, but he said no more, his breathing falling into a deep, even pattern. Then the snoring started. I reared back in surprise. Holy f*cking hell. He had to be kidding me. I covered my head with the pillow, resisting the urge to smother him with his. A chain saw duel to the death would be quieter than the commotion currently going down in his nasal region.

“Ben,” I cried into the pillow, throwing in a scream or two of frustration for good measure, and more than a couple of tears.

This guy and me, we were doomed from the start.

*

“Time to wake up.” I ever so gently kicked the bed.

The man sprawled out spread-eagle across it didn’t even move. Sadly for him, Sleeping Beauty’s time had come.

“Ben!”

His head shot up, eyes dazed and confused. “Huh?”

“Wake up. It’s nearly eleven.”

I set his coffee on the bedside table, then wandered over to the other side of the room to sip my own. Also to throw back the curtains, because I’m mean on broken dreams and limited sleep.

He blinked, yawned, and shied back from the light of day like a vampire. The dude definitely didn’t sparkle, however. Nor did he smell particularly fresh.

Out of all the many fantasies I’d had about him, his waking up in my room looking like roadkill hadn’t featured strongly. Yet, even with his clothes and hair all askew, and stinking of sweat and beer, there was just something about him. Something magnetic, urging me to get closer, and closer still.

Stupid me. Probably just pregnancy hormones or something running rife.

“Lizzy.”

“Yeah?”

“Ah, shit,” he groaned. “Davie listened to me. He should have just dumped me back at my hotel.”

No comment. “Coffee’s there beside you.”

“Thanks.” Slowly, he sat up, rubbing at his head. Then he looked around the room, taking it all in as if for the first time. Which it pretty much was. His eyes lingered on the cheap Japanese woodblock prints I’d picked up at the markets, and my stuffed bookcase. The stack of laundry waiting for a day when I wasn’t busy feeling like I was about to start yet again puking my guts up. No doubt the scene was a dramatic comedown compared to what he had to be used to. I’d imagine chandeliers, marble, lots of splendor. Glamorous models in the place of one pasty-faced girl with wet hair and old jeans and an equally worn sweater that’d shrunk in the wash.

Whatever.

“We need to talk,” I said.

He froze, and fair enough. Honestly, those four words had to be the most loathed between two people, ever. They were basically a death knell, right up there with we can still be friends. Except he and I had never gotten that far.

“Yeah, we do.” He took a gulp of hot coffee, watching me over the rim of his cup the entire time. “Why you hiding over there? Scared I’m going to get physical or something?”

“No.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “Just wanted to keep out of your way in case you felt the need to bolt again.”

He coughed out a laugh. “Ouch.”

I shrugged. Then I felt guilty. Then I remembered the snoring and stood tall once more.

“Look,” he said, turning his head my way. “Whatever you need from me, okay?”

My mouth opened, shut. “Thank you.”

His fingers flexed around the cup of coffee. “You want to keep it, right?”

“Yes.”

A nod.

I took a deep breath, reaching deep inside for some strength. Time to get on with the business of letting him off the hook and out of my life. No tears or tantrums. We were beyond that now. “I know you didn’t want to have children, Ben. That you like your life as it is. So if you—”

“I never said that,” he bit out.

“Yes, you did. Last night.”

“Lizzy.” Dark eyes pinned me in place. “Hold up. What I say when I’m drunk off my ass doesn’t mean a damn thing, all right?”

Given how many interesting things he’d said, I wasn’t so sure about that. “All right.”

“Do not use that against me.” His nostrils flared as he took a big breath. “Last night … you kind of caught me off guard with this.”

“It kind of caught me off guard too,” I said, struggling to keep my voice from going all fishwife on his ass. “I didn’t want to tell you under those conditions, Ben. It just happened. You can thank your new girlfriend for being so discreet.”

He flinched. Direct hit, ten points.