PART SIX
Asleep. Dead asleep.
With one hand I kept Matthew's slumped form balanced on my shoulder while struggling with my other hand to fish the key card out of my back pocket.
Damn!
Since when did three year olds become so heavy?
Hearing the click, I shoved the door open with my foot and it slammed against the wall with a resounding crash. Startled out of his sleep, Matthew raised his head and looked around, bleary-eyed.
"Whassthat?"
"Nothing, Matt. Nothing. Go back to sleep."
I carefully laid Matt down on his bed and began to unlace his tennis shoes. Two minutes later I gave up, vowing never again to use double knots. I finally managed to tug Matt's shoes off, pitching them and his wadded up socks into a corner. Curling up into a ball, Matt slapped at me repeatedly with an irritated hand as I wrestled to pull his pants off. Again I gave up, knowing better than to battle with a cranky, tired kid.
"Tuck me in," Matt warned sleepily and I obeyed, remembering the last time he fell out of bed, his screams of fright scaring me more than it did him. I grabbed his covers and got down on one knee, tucking the sheets tightly in between the mattresses. Finished, I felt Matt's tiny fingers grab my wrist.
"I don't feel good."
Oh, great. Just great.
Frowning, I reached over and touched Matt's forehead, feeling for warmth. "Does it hurt here?"
Matt shook his head and mumbled something. I leaned in closer to hear and, with the timing blessed by kids, Matt burped right in my face.
Rolling my eyes, I had to laugh a little as Matt sighed in relief.
"Feel better now?" I teased.
I bent down to give him a quick kiss goodnight. Remembering to keep his door open a little for light, I turned to check on Matt once more, my fingers hovering over the light switch. Two sleepy blue eyes gazed straight back at me, a look of love and need overflowing in them. It reminded me of another pair of bright blue eyes. . .
Oh, God.
"Go to sleep, Matty boy," I said rather sharply and flipped off the switch. Turning away, I hurried over to the mini-bar and yanked the door open, eager to wipe out the entire liquor supply if it would help me to remove the too vivid image of Brian's face.
Then I remembered Matt.
"Shit", I muttered tiredly and reluctantly closed the door, rubbing my forehead with an exasperated hand. Ah, the "joys" of being a responsible parent. Collapsing into the nearest chair, I slouched into its soft recess and mentally attempted to unwind. Several silent, drawn-out minutes passed as I stared up at the ceiling. I sighed heavily. Well, so much for that. I pushed myself out of the chair, annoyed.
Now what?
I heard a faint moan from Matthew's bedroom and I hurried in to check up on him. He was gently thrashing about under the covers, his eyes closed.
"Hey, Matty-boy," I said softly, crawling onto the bed. I rubbed his back, trying to calm him down. "What's the matter, buddy?" He moaned a little louder in his sleep, a small grimace scrunching up his face. I felt his forehead. Still cool. I continued with the circular rub, a little worried. Matt had always been as healthy as a horse. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time he had been sick. Matt moaned once more in his sleep, curling his legs up to his chest. I scooted in closer and reclined next to Matt, massaging his back as I waited anxiously for his tiny body to relax. But what if Matt didn't relax? What then? I bit my lip, not sure what to do.
I bet Brian would know what to do.
Shit.
Forget it.
No way I was going to ask Super Dad.
I glanced down at my son's sleeping face, feeling a twinge of guilt. I knew how much Brian wanted kids, how much he longed to be a father. I loved being a father. Hell, Matt was everything to me. I couldn't begin to guess what Brian felt when he heard that I had a son of my own.
Is that why Brian's attention over Matt bothers me so?
I switched hands and continued to rub Matt's back. Was it because he knows he could do a better job than me? I’m positive that Brian thinks I am an inadequate father. Positive. Hell, the way he hovers over Matt, always hugging him, touching him, makes me want to scream. I could feel myself tense. Just who does Brian think he is?
Okay. Okay. So maybe I’m not like Brian, maybe I didn’t do the “proper” thing like he did, getting married first to start a family, but hey, it's the twenty-first century, right? Not everything done the correct way has a happy ending. Look at Brian. Look at me. Look who has a son, and who doesn't.
I chewed on my lower lip, concerned. So how was I going to be able to handle this? I didn’t want to get upset every time Brian was near Matt. I silently cursed AJ, knowing for a fact that he had somehow set this whole reunion thing up for Brian and me. Just like the first time. And with the same disastrous results.
Well, if AJ wanted to make my life more interesting, I figured I could at least return the favor. I grinned nastily. AJ didn't have a clue. Not a clue as to what a three year old was capable of. I could only imagine the havoc Matt would cause if he ever got loose in AJ's tour bus. . .
Tour.
Matt on tour.
I frowned in the darkness of the room, uneasy. There was no way I was leaving Matt with a nanny while I was on tour and it disturbed me that the guys had the nerve to ask. Well, Brian had the decency to pretend he knew nothing about it, but I had a hard time believing him.
Belief. Trust. Faith. When had I become so suspicious of everyone, everything?
I knew when.
I knew exactly when.
The day Brian had said no. All my hopes, dreams had vanished in one fell swoop. In one simple word. Strange what a single word can do. Change your outlook. Change your life.
But not your heart.
I felt Matt’s body finally slump, unwind, and I sighed in relief.
"You have no idea what you're doin' to me," I whispered softly and then with a start I gave a bitter laugh, realizing I was talking about Matt and Brian in the same breath.
And what, exactly, were they doing to me? I submerged myself into that thought as I wearily closed my eyes. I forced myself to leave the safe haven that I had created to allow my true emotions to surface. I knew I had tried to fool myself, thinking that if I rejected Brian it would somehow erode my emotions, wear away any feelings I had for him. Hell. If anything, they were brighter, more intense, the desire so sharp it seemed to cut right through me. And now, with all of us going on tour, with Brian so close, it was sure to become even more painful. Oh God, what had I gotten myself into? Why did I agree to go on tour? There didn't seem any safe, easy way out of this.
Feeling the warmth of Matt’s small body against mine, listening to his slow, even breathing, I finally relaxed. I was too tired to contemplate things any further. I only wanted what sleep now had to offer…blessed, simple relief.
I must have been sleeping hard, because I sat up in a daze, disoriented, listening to what sounded like Matthew’s voice, moaning in distress. I discovered Matt curled up, clutching his sheets, looking at me wild-eyed.
"Dad, Dad, Dad," he panted and I did what any rational father would do. . . I panicked.
Fear gave flight, and I cleared the bed in one easy leap.
“Don’t move Matt!” I yelled. "Don't move! I’ll be right back!”
Ripping the door open, I raced down the hallway, searching for a number. I yelled, pounded, kicked at the door for what seemed like an eternity before Brian opened up.
“What. . . ?” he began, his face in a frown, but I interrupted him.
“It’s Matthew. He’s sick. Come on.”
We ran back to the room, where we found Matt sitting up in bed, his face pale. Brian immediately sat down on the edge, peering intently at Matt. I sat on the other side of the bed, reaching for my son’s hand.
“Matt,” I said, trying to keep my voice under control. “Matt. What’s happening?”
Matt cringed, holding his stomach, and began to breath in short little gasps, ignoring my question entirely.
“Matthew!”
Frantic, I looked at Brian, who was still watching Matt closely and then turned back, my voice now cracking in desperation as I shook my son gently.
“Matt, please! Please! Say something, anything!”