So. Long(127)
Do I answer? Of course I answer. Why does he make me act so ridiculous?
Giddiness gathers in my chest, even though I’m still pissed. I dig deep to summon at least a little backbone from the puddle of hormones quivering at my feet and begging me to run to him, fall into those muscular arms, and forget all about the fact that he’s an ass who would do away with our baby—and that he set me up to look like a fool.
I force the small lilt of excitement out of my voice. Deadpan it. That’s all he deserves. “Hello.”
“Hey, Peaches, I miss you.” The soft rasp in his voice goes straight through my heart and right on down to my pussy.
Play it cool. “What’s going on, Jack?”
His long inhale comes through the line. “Since you haven’t called me, I figured I’d call you. Want to get together?”
I close my eyes and rub the little ache between my eyebrows. “I don’t know—”
“Wait. Don’t turn me down. Listen, I was thinking of having a Valentine’s week run up to the big day. You know, bring a little something extra to the viewers. We had some pretty good ratings when you were on, so I thought maybe you’d consider coming on again.”
What the hell? “Shay hasn’t even had a go at Dave yet.”
He chuckles. “Oh, no. Not what I meant. I’m just talking about you. Come on the show and we’ll chat a bit more in-depth about your book.”
“Really? The last time, you all but threw it in the garbage right on stage.”
“Yeah. Shit, I’m sorry for that, Ronnie. I’ve actually been reading a bit of it here and there. You bring up some interesting theories. After the run-in with the guy at the bookstore, I thought maybe you could go through some of the traits women should look for in a man.”
Exhilaration zips through me. This could mean a big boost in sales—doubly so if Jack is on board and isn’t out to trash it. “Maybe we can stick to four or five. I shouldn’t give all of them away, because then people won’t buy the book.”
“Four or five would be great. I’ll pick a couple, and you choose one or two. That way we can have a real conversation about them.”
A real conversation. With Jack. About what traits are desirable in a man. This should be interesting.
I brush the hair away from my damp forehead with shaky hands. The acid in my mouth makes me feel the need to puke again, just to get it out. I stand and push out of the stall, staggering to the sink.
A lady with silvered hair thrusts a paper towel into my hands. “How far along are you, dear?”
I step back from her, pointing to myself. “Me?”
Her sweet smile widens. “Who else?”
“But I’m not—I—”
She crosses her arms, her green eyes sparkling with a knowing look. “Oh, it’s all right. We all go through it. Morning sickness is rarely confined to the morning. How far?”
I lean over the sink and crank on the water. I splash my face and rinse my mouth, hoping she’ll disappear before I finish. But when I look up, she stands behind me, another paper towel at the ready.
I take the offered help. “Thank you. I’m not sure how far along exactly. I haven’t been to a doctor yet.”
Her dimples deepen. “Well, you get on in to see one and make sure everything is going all right. The sickness should get better before long.”
“I hope so. It always seems to happen at the worst possible times.” I straighten my dress, apply a fresh coat of lip gloss, and fluff my hair.
“Hang in there. Before you know it, you’ll be carrying that babe in your arms, and then it will be hanging off your elbows, and one day you’ll turn around and he’ll be all grown up, making a life of his own. My son didn’t stay little nearly long enough.”
“Well, thank you for the help. I’m supposed to be getting ready to go on stage, so I’d best go.”
“What’s your name, dear?”
I extend my hand. “Oh, I’m so rude. Please forgive me. I’m Ronnie Fitz.”
Her eyes widen a bit. “I’ve heard of you. It’s lovely to meet you in person.”
I lay my hand over my thumping heart. “You’ve heard of me?”
She shrugs. “You have a book, don’t you?”
A little thrill of excitement rushes through me. “I do. I do have a book.”
“You’d better go, or they’ll be looking for you. I hear the host can be a handful.”
“That’s what they say.” A little spark ignites deep inside. Only a few more minutes, and I’ll see him again—even if only for the limited time we’re in front of a live audience.