Söbriety • Mötley Crüe •

82. Happiness

Ryan's POV

"Do you want blueberries or chocolate chips?" Nikki stands in the kitchen bare-chested, the toned muscles in his back and shoulders nearly making my knees give out.

"Chocolate chips. Is that even a question?" I snort as I wrap my arms around him from behind, placing a kiss onto the middle of his back.

"Figured I'd ask anyway." He turns around, wrapping his arms around my waist as I lean my head into his chest.

One whole weeke of pure bliss.

One whole week of nothing but sex, late night phone calls, and family days with our daughter. One whole week with not even a petty argument. We don't leave our houses, apart from Nikki going to the studio, so we don't tip off the press about our relationship.

I told Nikki I wasn't ready to go public with everything quite yet, and to my absolute surprise, it's worked so far. We had the few snippets in the tabloids about our wreck and Nikki being seen in the hospital, but nobody thought much more about it than he was going to see his daughter.

Maybe we haven't done as great at the 'slow' thing as I'd hoped, but we try our best. He only stays over every other night, but even on the nights that he's not here, we're on the phone until the early hours of the morning.

But it's better than him moving back in, right?

I don't think I've ever been happier than this.

"Have you guys seen this?!" The slap of paper against the dining room table makes me flinch, Nikki pulling himself away from his pancakes to grab the magazine.

"Goddamn, Sharise, you scared the shit out of me." I speak through mouthfuls as I lean against his shoulder to see what's going on.

Owner of the Whisky Tells All about Nikki Sixx and Ex-Wife's Rekindled Romance

Maybe it wasn't working as well as I thought.

"Holy shit." I rip the magazine out of his hands and flip to the correct page, my face taking up half the spread. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no."

Are Nikki Sixx and his ex-wife on the mend? Read the details that The Whisky A-Go-Go's current owner, also known as Ryan Sixx's most recent lover, graciously sat down to discuss with us.

"That fucking bitch." I growl.

Old pictures of Nikki and I, and recent pictures of Layla and I, litter the pages and I scrunch my nose up as I skim through the words.

"Oh my God. She told them about the day Kelsey died." I drop the magazine back onto the table, my fingers rubbing my temples to keep the impending headache at bay.

"She did what?!" Nikki takes the magazine back, his eyes widening when he reads the detailed account of our indiscretion. "Ryan, how does she know all of this?!"

"I don't know." I groan, the headache getting closer and closer to the back of my eyeballs. "This is so bad. This is so bad. I look like a fucking whore!"

"What's a whore?" Wylie drops her fork as she tilts her head to the side.

I completely forgot she was even here.

"Nothing, baby. It's nothing." Nikki pats her hand as he continues to read the article, snorting out a scoff every few seconds. "This is a massive cry for attention. It's just a ploy to make you look bad. Don't let her get under your skin, babe."

"It's kinda hard not to when the whole world is gonna think I'm some serial-cheating skank! They ripped me when all that shit with Slash and the MTV Music Awards came out, this is the nail in my coffin." I drop my head to rest on the table, Nikki's hand rubbing my back.