registered his shock. Lauren nodded, wishing she was anywhere else but here. “One. A son. I’m thirty-four, Nick. My life continued after you left. What? Did you think I’d still be pining away for you after all these years?”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even blink. She let out a disgusted snort. If only he knew the truth of that last question. The pain of it. “That changes everything, doesn’t it, Nick? Making me ‘yours’ again isn’t so simple when there’s a kid on the scene. Kinda brings along a whole lot of extra baggage, doesn’t it?”
Still, he didn’t say anything. But his eyes never left her face.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. Dinner time and all.”
“Where’s his dad?”
Lauren forced a dismissive laugh from her throat. “Is that any real concern of yours?”
“It is. He’s been inside you. I hate him.”
A deep, hot pain slowly sank into Lauren’s soul. “I hate him too, Nick,” she said, unable to keep the torment from her voice. “And I’m one-hundred percent certain you’ve been inside more than one woman since me, so you don’t really have any grounds for being so incensed, do you?”
“Who is the father?”
Lauren’s chest squeezed. She drove her nails into her palms, her mouth dry. “Someone I knew once.”
“Where is he? Here? In Murriundah?”
“I don’t have to tell you that.”
“So he is then?”
Lauren swallowed. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She let out a ragged sigh. She wasn’t up to this. Not now. It was too much. “Can you just go please, Nick? I need to go home and give my son his dinner, make sure he’s done his homework and mark some schoolwork. That’s my life now. You need to go jet off somewhere, sing on a stage, sign some autographs, sleep with a supermodel. That’s your life. You may be able to make me melt with your kisses—and you do , Nick, I can’t deny that—but my heart doesn’t belong to you anymore. You can’t touch it. The guy who once could do that with his songs and his kisses left me a long time ago. Now it belongs to a different boy, one who is waiting at home for fish and chips, who rarely gives me a kiss and will most likely pick a DVD about robot trucks to watch on the telly tonight. And you know what? I don’t want it any other way.”
Nick stood motionless. His gaze held her just as still. She wanted him to say something. She wanted him to say, “Okay, Lauren. I’m going.” She wanted him to say sorry.
“How old is he? Your son?”
Lauren swallowed, her pulse thumping so hard in her throat it was painful. It was the question she hadn’t wanted Nick to ask. “He’s a teenager,” she answered, fighting to keep her voice level. “A hungry teenager. Teenagers are always hungry. Must be the hormones. Now, as I said, I have to go home and feed him. Can’t stay around and chat anymore. Sorry.”
Nick’s Adam’s apple jerked in his throat.
She drove her nails harder into her palms. “It was nice to see you again, but if you’re not leaving, I will. Just lock the door on your way out, okay? Murriundah isn’t quite the same town it was when we were growing up.”
“How old is your son, Lauren?”
The question was level. Steady. Nick didn’t move. Just stood before her, smolderingly sexy, achingly gorgeous and ridiculously famous. Oh God, she didn’t want to answer him. She didn’t.
But you have to. You know that, right? He won’t leave until you do.
“He’s a teenager,” Nick said, his gaze pinning her to the spot, his expression unreadable, “so what? Thirteen? Fourteen? Can’t be older than that.”
Lauren swallowed. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, wanting to flee from the room, wanting to run as far away as she could. Unable to take a step. Unable to stop Nick’s train of thought.
Oh no. No.
“Can’t be fifteen,” he went on, “’cause that would make him…” His voice faded away. His eyes widened.
Her
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even blink. She let out a disgusted snort. If only he knew the truth of that last question. The pain of it. “That changes everything, doesn’t it, Nick? Making me ‘yours’ again isn’t so simple when there’s a kid on the scene. Kinda brings along a whole lot of extra baggage, doesn’t it?”
Still, he didn’t say anything. But his eyes never left her face.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. Dinner time and all.”
“Where’s his dad?”
Lauren forced a dismissive laugh from her throat. “Is that any real concern of yours?”
“It is. He’s been inside you. I hate him.”
A deep, hot pain slowly sank into Lauren’s soul. “I hate him too, Nick,” she said, unable to keep the torment from her voice. “And I’m one-hundred percent certain you’ve been inside more than one woman since me, so you don’t really have any grounds for being so incensed, do you?”
“Who is the father?”
Lauren’s chest squeezed. She drove her nails into her palms, her mouth dry. “Someone I knew once.”
“Where is he? Here? In Murriundah?”
“I don’t have to tell you that.”
“So he is then?”
Lauren swallowed. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She let out a ragged sigh. She wasn’t up to this. Not now. It was too much. “Can you just go please, Nick? I need to go home and give my son his dinner, make sure he’s done his homework and mark some schoolwork. That’s my life now. You need to go jet off somewhere, sing on a stage, sign some autographs, sleep with a supermodel. That’s your life. You may be able to make me melt with your kisses—and you do , Nick, I can’t deny that—but my heart doesn’t belong to you anymore. You can’t touch it. The guy who once could do that with his songs and his kisses left me a long time ago. Now it belongs to a different boy, one who is waiting at home for fish and chips, who rarely gives me a kiss and will most likely pick a DVD about robot trucks to watch on the telly tonight. And you know what? I don’t want it any other way.”
Nick stood motionless. His gaze held her just as still. She wanted him to say something. She wanted him to say, “Okay, Lauren. I’m going.” She wanted him to say sorry.
“How old is he? Your son?”
Lauren swallowed, her pulse thumping so hard in her throat it was painful. It was the question she hadn’t wanted Nick to ask. “He’s a teenager,” she answered, fighting to keep her voice level. “A hungry teenager. Teenagers are always hungry. Must be the hormones. Now, as I said, I have to go home and feed him. Can’t stay around and chat anymore. Sorry.”
Nick’s Adam’s apple jerked in his throat.
She drove her nails harder into her palms. “It was nice to see you again, but if you’re not leaving, I will. Just lock the door on your way out, okay? Murriundah isn’t quite the same town it was when we were growing up.”
“How old is your son, Lauren?”
The question was level. Steady. Nick didn’t move. Just stood before her, smolderingly sexy, achingly gorgeous and ridiculously famous. Oh God, she didn’t want to answer him. She didn’t.
But you have to. You know that, right? He won’t leave until you do.
“He’s a teenager,” Nick said, his gaze pinning her to the spot, his expression unreadable, “so what? Thirteen? Fourteen? Can’t be older than that.”
Lauren swallowed. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, wanting to flee from the room, wanting to run as far away as she could. Unable to take a step. Unable to stop Nick’s train of thought.
Oh no. No.
“Can’t be fifteen,” he went on, “’cause that would make him…” His voice faded away. His eyes widened.
Her
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