Fight For Love

Part 16

The next morning,

"Baby, it's time to wake up," Paul whispered.

"It's too early. Go back to bed," you replied.

"I guess you don't want coffee and this omelet," He said.

You opened one eye seeing him fully dressed in the t-shirt you had gotten him during his first trip to Oklahoma. It still surprised you that no matter what happened the night before, Paul could always get up super early. Glaring at him, you sat up in the bed, holding your hand out for the coffee, turning your nose up at the smell of the eggs and your stomach doing flip-flops. Paul kissed the top of your head and passed you the cup, grinning from ear to ear.

"Why are you always so happy this early in the morning, and why are you already dressed?" You asked, sipping the coffee.

"Well, at least one of us will handle the early mornings with the little one, but I'm dressed because I have meetings with the band, plus lunch with Eric. Are you going to be okay by yourself?" He asked, concerned.

"I may not be if you don't get those eggs away from me. I feel like I'm going to be sick." You replied.

The doctor had warned you about the possibility of morning sickness, but you had hoped it wouldn't hit you. Paul moved the plate of food to the dresser and put his hands on his hips. You rolled your eyes at the singer, knowing the wheels were already turning in his head over, leaving you at the house alone. It would be an interesting couple of months with Paul hovering over you about every little thing. You got up from the bed, going to your closet for a change of clothes. Turning around, the guitarist was pouting at you with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Oh, stop! Do you remember what the doctor said? We need to relax more, and you have a job. Do you really want to piss Gene off by canceling the meeting?" You asked.

Paul shrugged and walked into the bathroom, checking his hair in the mirror and spraying one of his favorite colognes on himself. He came back out, grabbing the vest laying on the bed putting it on. Shaking your head, you turned and helped him button the front of it, looking him over before turning around, smacking his ass. He looked down at you, shocked by your action, grabbing your hips and pulling you into him. The two of you looked at each other for a few minutes.

"You have to go. You're going to be late," you whispered.

"What if I don't want to?" He whispered back.

Your hands went straight back down to the vest, unbuttoning it and pulling it off of his shoulders. Paul looked up at you, grinning at your boldness. He grabbed your chin and kissed you softly first, and attempted to pull back. You grabbed his shirt, pulling him back to you, kissing him harder. Groaning into the kiss, he moved his hands to the hem of your shirt and pulled it off, pushing you down to the bed. You pulled his face to yours just as the telephone rang in the bedroom.

"Just ignore it," Paul said, moving his mouth to your neck.

The two of you waited for a moment, waiting to see if the voicemail picked up. Paul grinned against your neck and started kissing and biting it, making you moan out. You moved your hands to his t-shirt, attempting to pull it over his head when a knock and multiple rings of the doorbell echoed through the house. The two of you groaned and sat up, adjusting your clothes, and Paul ran a hand through his hair.

"If that's Eric or Gene, I'm going to kill them, I swear to god," He muttered.

"You might want to adjust your friend there before greeting whoever is at the door," you told him, motioning at his pants.

He looked down at his pants and turned around, adjusting himself. The doorbell sounded off again, making you run down the stairs past Paul, hoping to save whoever was annoyingly bothering the two of you. You opened the door, finding both Eric and Gene standing at the door, the bassist rolling his eyes in disgust at the sight of you. Eric grinned and wrapped you in a tight hug. The sound of a loud groan made the drummer turn you loose and look over at the singer.

"Hiya, buddy! We were in the neighborhood, so we thought we would pick you up," Eric said.

"Was it you calling or Gene?" Paul asked, glaring and adjusting his vest.

You looked at the singer, seeing his facial expression changed to the eerie calm one as Gene stepped into the house. Eric grabbed your arm, attempting to remove you away from the looming fight. Still, you shook your head, knowing that the bassist was going to say something negative about you, and it was time to stand up for yourself. Eric threw his hands up and headed toward the kitchen.

"I see she made it out of the hospital. Maybe now we can actually focus on the band." Gene said,

"I have a name Gene, it's Y/N, and if you have something to say about me, be a man and say it to my face," you replied.

"Well, you caused all the drama that's taken place, and now you've got my friend stuck with you since you allowed yourself to get knocked up. Typical gold digger," He replied.

You felt hands on your shoulder and turned to see Paul red in the face. You patted his hand and turned back around to Gene, glaring at him. Trying to control your anger and get out everything you wanted to say to the bassist since first meeting him at the dinner party. Taking a deep breath, you grinned at the older man, seeing him look back at you with a confused face.

"Why are you scared of Paul being happy with me?" You asked.

"I'm not scared. He's a grown man acting like a teenager," Gene replied.

"Okay, maybe just jealousy, like us being together, can't threaten your friendship with Paul. That's why you've been throwing dirt at me since the first night you met me at the dinner party. Paul is a grown man, taking care of his family and giving his all in the band. Yet you've actually almost killed me because you don't like me. Why don't you take a lesson from Paul about being a father, faithful boyfriend, and bandmate?" You asked.

"You can't blame me for your car accident," the bassist replied.

"Just like you shouldn't blame me for issues in the band. You've been with Paul for over twenty years. There has always been a dysfunction. You took things too far by deleting those messages and throwing that party without Paul's consent. We could have lost the baby, but you're so cold-hearted that you would want to see your bandmate go through that heartache." You told him, feeling your eyes swell up.

"That's enough. Y/N is not supposed to be under stress, and apparently, you are not coming around my house for now. Eric, you two go ahead, and I will follow you guys over there, okay?" Paul asked, turning around to face Eric.

The drummer nodded his head in agreement and grabbed Gene's arm, pulling him out the door before the bassist opened his mouth. Paul waited until the door was closed behind them and held you, wrapping you in a tight hug. It was all it took as soon as your face met the singer's chest; you burst into tears soaking the man's t-shirt. Running his hand down your back, Paul rocked back and forth, trying to calm you down before he had to leave you.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have talked to him like that, at," you said, pulling away.

"Are you kidding? You handled yourself so well, Y/N. I guess all those years of dealing with your mom paid off," Paul said, smirking at you.

"Shut up and go! I'll be fine, I promise," You laughed.

"I'll try to make it quick. I love you," Paul replied, grabbing his keys.

"Nothing you do is quick, and I love you, too. You replied.

Paul groaned and walked out the door, making you laugh, knowing you would have hell to pay for the little comment. You sighed and looked over at the TV, scrunching your nose up at the thought of watching anything. The thought of what the singer had said about your family came creeping in. you felt guilty for not letting her know about her first grandchild. Sighing, you picked up the phone and dialed the number, waiting patiently for the other line to be picked up.

"Hello?" a raspy voice came across the line.

"Hey, mom, it's Y/N. How are you?" You asked.

"What do you want? I already know about the little hippie bastard and your coma. You should really be ashamed of yourself," she snapped.

"Wait, what are you talking about? I haven't talked to anyone out there," you replied, confused.