conversation about Rolling Bridges I’ve had with Redy crashes through my head. This can’t be happening to me. I’ve raved about new music. I told Redy about the black and white poster size pictures I have in my tattoo parlor of Deklan Thomas, chest bare, showing all of his ink.
“Did you plan this, too?” he asks me.
I roll my forehead back and forth on my arm. Without lifting my head I point out, “You came to me, asshole. You wrote to me first about yoga. You danced with me the first time and last night. I didn’t plan shit.”
“You knew who I was when you slept with me.”
I pick my head up and grab napkins to wipe my eyes as I tell him, “Yeah Deklan, and you knew who you were, talking about Rolling Bridges and you fucking are Rolling Bridges.” Ugh, I might be sick. “If you would have thought about it, you could seriously have put two and two together and come up with Ali Pierce. You’ve been one of my best friends for years, and you never realized? I get the tickets, Deklan. I told you the band had them for me! You should have known.”
He shakes his head looking devastated. “I just liked talking to someone who wasn’t a crazy fan. Someone who didn’t obsess over me. Someone who treated me normal.” I study him for a long minute and can understand his side. I tell him, caustically, “Even on New Year’s I never treated you like you were anything but normal, so you can lose the attitude.”
He watches me solemnly, then finally nods his head. “You’re right. You did. I apologize.” He searches my face. “But what did you have to talk to me about that would get you up on stage. I know you hated that.”
My breath stutters in my throat, then I laugh a little hysterically, which quickly turns into sobbing. Big gross, snotty, loud sobs that shake the table and the spoon in my tea cup. I’m trying to reconcile the two men in my life at the moment, with how my future is going to be and what my past has been. It's going to take a while and I’m an emotional mess, so it won’t be pretty. Dabbing my eyes, looking everywhere but at the man in front of me, I notice we're drawing attention. I finally move my eyes to the gorgeous guy in front of me, and see him looking warily around the cafe too.
He catches my eyes and orders quietly, “Calm down, I just had a concert tonight and don’t need to get recognized right now. I just want to find out what's going on with you that has you so freaked out. I’m still Redy, as much as this situation is fucking with my head. Talk to me.”
“I’m pregnant!” I wail as my eyes fill with fresh tears, and I hiccup.
Deklan freezes then casts his eyes around the cafe, shoots his chair back and stands up in a rush. He comes across the table and grabs my arm with one hand, and the chair with the other. I have enough sense to snatch napkins up before he pulls the chair out and tugs me up. He walks me fast through the front door. Out on the street, he wraps an arm around my shoulders curling me into his body, slips on Ray Ban sunglasses and ducks his head.
It seems like we walk forever. My head is down, buried in his chest, and I cry for a long time while breathing in his scent. Deklan leads me through turns, but I don’t know where we're going. After about an hour I think I’m all cried out.
He notices and slows to a stop, pulling my chin up. “Okay?" he asks, searching my face.
I shake my head yes then no.
He pulls me back into him with his arm still around my shoulder and simply says, “Ok,” while looking around.
I glance around too, and have no idea where we are. The tower is nowhere to be seen, but that doesn't mean a whole lot. We're in a tiny side street, barely wide enough to fit two cars at the same time. There are buildings on both sides straight off of the cobblestone street.
"Where are we?" I ask nervously.
“No idea," he tells me shortly, then takes off again. Looking for a busier street, I imagine. Finally, after four or five turns,
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