Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(44)

“What?” I cocked my head. “You really mean that. But what about David and Ev?”

“Time’ll tell.”

My eyes were wide. “I think that’s sad, Ben.”

“Trust me, Liz. What’s best for our kid right now is you and me working on having a long-term relationship we can both live with. That means us being friends and figuring out how to be parents together, right?”

“Right. I guess.”

“I know I’m not the psychology student here, but I also think it would really help if you didn’t get with any of my friends or people I work with. Ever. I think that would, ah, complicate things.”

“Yes. Fair enough.”

“And I won’t hook up with any of your friends, either. Ever.”

“Thanks.”

He tipped his chin in acknowledgment.

“Wow, we’re really going great, setting up the friendship boundaries,” I said.

A smile.

“This should all work perfectly.” Heartbreakingly so.

“I hope so,” he said.

“Might be best if we didn’t talk about your penis and sex between us again in the future, though. Maybe we should tone back the total honesty just a little.”

He winced. “You’re right. My bad. No need to confuse shit.”

“No problem.”

He held out his right hand to me, knuckles pink and large fingers calloused. “Friends?”

“You bet. Being friends will be great.”





CHAPTER EIGHT

Being friends sucked.

All told, there were thirty-five stops on the tour—seventeen in this first leg, before we headed over to Europe, then back home again to tour the northern states. The band played a new city pretty much every second night without break. Ben had been right, though, everything that could be done for me was done. All I had to worry about was walking on and off private jets and gestating while room service catered to my every whim.

The routine went roughly like this: We arrived in a new place and settled into our hotel while fans screamed and fainted out front. Sometimes the guys got the rest of the day off, usually spending time with their significant others. Or, in Ben’s case, jamming with the warm-up act, Down Fourth, and a case or two of beer.

Not to say that the guys didn’t hang out together.

It seemed, though, that couples in their first year together spent the bulk of their time bonking. Noisily. Jim and Ben often hit the gym, and they’d all get together for an occasional early or late-night dinner. Since Mal still refused to talk to Ben outside of band business, however, those were difficult, to say the least.

The bulk of their time went toward publicity. TV shows, radio stations, news reporters—you name it, they talked to them. Then there’d be sound checks and rehearsals and meetings. Stage Dive might have toured the country a time or two, but the amount of the country they’d actually gotten to see was likely small. When it wasn’t about the sexing, it seemed to be all business, all the time. Gave me plenty of opportunities to catch up on my reading and get a jump start on next year’s classes, when I wasn’t with Ben, trying to figure out how he and I could be friends. That the mere sight of him set off my horny hormonalness didn’t help. The hours I spent amusing myself with my hand after one of our visits was plain sad. Pregnancy was crazy.

In Albuquerque we had a drink together one morning. Herbal tea for me and about a gallon of black coffee for him. Conversation was stilted, largely due to Ben having had only three hours’ sleep.

No, I didn’t ask for the exact details.

In Oklahoma we attempted lunch in his room. Problem was, an overly zealous fan managed to get onto the floor and handcuff himself to the emergency evacuation stairs door handle, opposite Ben’s suite. Between his yelling and the fire alarm he managed to set off, lunch got canceled and the building was temporarily evacuated.

In Wichita we tried going for a walk, but then Ben nearly got mobbed and we had to make a run for it back to the hotel. He might not stick out back home in Portland, but in other cities, on Stage Dive–sighting alert, we weren’t so lucky.

I hate to admit it, but by Atlanta I think we were both starting to give up. No plans were made. Plus I had the sniffles.

In Charlotte my cold decided to get more serious and a doctor was called in, doubtless at great expense. I could have told me to rest up and keep taking the prenatal vitamins for a whole lot less. My nose gleamed bright red and flowed like a river. It was beautiful. Anne was the only one permitted to come see me. No one else could afford to share in my germy state. Her having Mal stick his tongue in her mouth every chance he got didn’t seem to matter. Adrian, the band’s manager, immediately slapped a quarantine order on me. I wasn’t permitted to stick my head outside my bedroom door, or else.

Asshole. As if I would.

Ben: U ok? Lena said you can’t have visitors.

Lizzy: Fine. Just a cold.

Ben: Shitty. How bad? U c Dr?

Lizzy: Yes. Morning sickness & growing bean got me run down. Gotta drink more juice etc. Keep up the prenatal vitamins. Immune system is looking after her more than me apparently.

Ben: Ok. Need anything?

Lizzy: No thanks. Heard her heart again. Beating strong.

Ben: U can hear her heart already? Fuck. Amazing.

Lizzy: I know right?