Page 9 of Mending Hearts

“Alone.”

I laughed, incredulous. “What? Honestly, how does that work? People would know, Tyler. People would know I was pregnant. I’ll get fat, if nothing else. Whether it’s the right thing or the wrong thing, the media, my fans, everyone would judge the shit out of me. They already annihilate me when I wear an outfit that makes melookfat. Abandoning my kid? Having an abortion? Either of those is career suicide. None of this can get out.” These ideas had consumed my thoughts for the lastfew weeks, so much so I’d flubbed a few of my songs on stage. Mom had suggested that eighteen months of touring might have been a mistake. But I didn’t want to cancel shows because that would set off an even bigger shit storm. “I still have three months left of my tour.”

“It’s your first baby, so you might not show right away. I did some research on the internet, and—”

“Oh, some internet research? That’samazing. Did you buy a degree while you were there? Cause I hear they’re worth—oh—I don’t know—absolutely nothing.” I threw up my hands and leaned forward. “No, Tyler. I’m not having this fucking baby and giving it to you. No.”

Both of his hands ran down his face which was pinched with frustration. I tensed, ready for a battle. An argument was brewing.

He clenched his jaw and gave a curt nod. “Okay. I had to ask.”

“That’s it?” I stared. I’d been geared up for a fight. Why wasn’t he fighting? I wanted to fight. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“You said no. I respect that. I understand it. I don’t like it. I wish you’d change your mind or even consider what I’ve said. But I didn’t come here to piss you off.” He wandered closer. His gaze trailed over me, thoughtful rather than angry. “I thought maybe there was a chance you wanted to keep the baby, but didn’t know how. I thought maybe that’s why you told me.”

I reared back and turned away. Had that been why I’d come? My mind spun, caught up in the notion he was right. Not telling him would have been the logical choice. Without meeting his gaze, I said, “How would it work? No one could know. I don’t see how we could keep it a secret.”

“I can’t promise you we can. But I can promise I’ll never ask for anything else from you. Not money. Not time. Nothing.”

“On the tour alone, not thinking about anything else, too many people would find out.”

“How?”

“Well,” I said, thinking through the logistics. “For starters, when I put on weight, all my outfits will need to be changed or altered. Wardrobe will know. My managers would know. Then my mom would find out.”

His head bent, focused on his long, lean fingers as they tapped the edge of the oversized desk. “I know how to make and alter clothes. It’s what I do. It’s what I went to college to do.”

“And you live in Little Falls.”

Tyler chuckled and our gazes met. “And I have a passport.”

“You want to join the tour?”

“Want is a strong word.Willingwould be a more accurate one. I want to raise our baby. I’m willing to do whatever needs to be done to make it happen.”

I sank onto the king-size bed and put my head in my hands. “Tyler, this is insanity. Literally the dumbest idea on the face of the planet.” He could solve the clothing problem. So, what? It was one of about five thousand issues. “You have a girlfriend.” When I glanced up, I saw him swallow. “I saw you with her. She looked happy. You’re probably happy. This would—I mean—you’d have to tell her.”

He pulled another lollipop out of his jacket pocket and twirled it around. “We’ve only been dating a few weeks. It’s not serious. We’ll break up. I won’t tell her. I’ll have to tell my family, but they can keep a real secret. I know what you think. But quite genuinely, they won’t tell anyone.”

My mind churned worse than when I first discovered I was pregnant. There’d been no question what I needed to do. What Ihadto do.How could I keep the baby? Was Tyler’s idea possible or was I fooling myself? “I’m like two-and-a-half months pregnant right now. At the end of my tour, I’ll be five months pregnant. Almost six months!”

“What are you supposed to do when the tour is done?”

“No idea. I haven’t asked. I can’t think about it, or I’ll go insane.” I looked at him, weary over the thought of what else was probably booked—talk shows, social media events, private concerts, and who knew what else. There were no brakes on the money train, just me, sliding along the rails.

“Name a reason you’d scale back, cancel everything.”

“Death. Death would be the only reason.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Me too. I don’t cancel. I don’t check into the hospital for exhaustion. I’m on so many immune boosters I rarely get sick. I’m the product. I’m the brand. I can’t afford to go down.” I shook my head. “I can’t do it. I just…I can’t. It wouldn’t work. I’d never get these years back.”

Tyler didn’t say anything. He eased down on the bed beside me and passed me a lollipop.

I read the label. “You have the weirdest flavors. Blueberry jasmine?”

“It’s calming.”

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