by Lisa Suzanne
I don’t know what to do with myself for a week in my hometown.
We pull into a bus lot where our homes on wheels will park for the next week. This is where I usually stand and start gathering my things to take to a hotel, but we’re here an entire week. I’m not ready to leave my bus just yet. It started as a tiny coffin-like tube on wheels, but now it’s the closest thing I have to home.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door a few minutes after the bus stops. “Come in,” I call, my heart leaping with the hope it’s Ethan.
It’s not.
“Hi,” Reese says. She’s wearing a fleece vest over a thermal shirt and jeans. The vest hangs open, and I spot her baby bump. She’s adorable and glowing as I smile and wave her in.
We’ve gotten to know each other a little over the past two months, but more in the last couple weeks. Maybe it’s because Ethan’s been eating up more of Mark’s time, but I find I really like her. She’s a down to Earth, sweet girl who seems like the type who will do anything for anyone, yet she makes you feel special when she spends time with you. It’s a rare quality that both she and her husband share.
She perches on the edge of my bed.
“Where are you staying while you’re here?” she asks.
I shrug. “Some hotel I think.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. Come stay with us.”
“Oh, I don’t want to impose. Thanks for the offer, though.”
“You won’t be imposing. Mark’s penthouse has all these extra bedrooms and they’re just sitting empty. Besides, we could have girls’ nights and watch movies where they have babies.”
I giggle. We actually did that a week or so ago on my bus, and while it drove home the point that I’m in this alone, it still gave me a few laughs.
“Ethan will be staying with us,” she says softly.
“Even more reason why I shouldn’t, then.”
“He’ll get over it.” She reaches across the bed to squeeze my hand.
“It’s been almost three weeks, Reese.” I swipe at a tear.
“I know. And I know you two need to find your way back to each other. You’re a hot mess over here in tears all the time and he’s trying his hardest to get my husband on board with his dumb shenanigans.”
My heart squeezes. “What shenanigans?”
She shakes her head. “Dumb stuff. Drinking too much, smoking too much. Sometimes harder stuff that Mark usually fails to talk him out of.”
I don’t like the sound of that, but I also don’t know how to stop it. “Women?” I ask.
She lifts a shoulder. “I honestly don’t know. I only know what Mark tells me or what I see when we’re all together.”
“Have you seen any?”
She shakes her head. “No. He’s pretty broken right now.”
I sigh. “I shouldn’t have come on this tour.”
“Don’t be silly. Your motivation might’ve been in the wrong place, but look what you got out of it.” She nods toward my stomach. “We’ll have these babies a few months apart and they’ll grow up best friends.”
“That’s sweet of you to say, Reese, but I’m so terrified I’m going to end up doing this alone.”
She grabs my hand again. “You won’t be alone. I’m here for you. Mark’s here. But you won’t need us. He’ll step up. Ethan may be a douchebag, but I’ve gotten to know him pretty well. He holds grudges, but when push comes to shove, he’ll love you and that baby fiercely.”
I nod but can’t talk around the lump in my throat.
“Stay with us,” she says softly. “And trust me.”
“Okay,” I whisper, and then she stands up, pulls me up with her, and gives me a hug.
“Now let’s get packing,” she says.
I give her a small smile, toss everything I need into an overnight bag, and leave it on the bed for Griffin. When I go out to the forward cabin, Griff sits at the table tapping away on a laptop.
“Take my hotel room and give yours to Tony,” I say. “I’ll be staying with Reese and Mark.”
He glances up at me. “Where’s that?”
I look over at Reese. “Downtown near the lake,” she says. “I’ll have Vick send you the address.”
I give Griff a hug then follow Reese off my bus. The wind cuts through my jacket right down to my very bones as I get off the bus into the blustery Chicago weather and I wish I was still snuggled beneath my blankets. I don’t miss living in this shit, that’s for goddamn sure.
Reese scurries over to a big, black Yukon and helps me in first. I look around. The back has two bench seats facing each other. Mark sits facing forward on one, and Ethan sits facing him on the other one.
Ethan’s smile fades and his gaze turns toward the window when he spots me, and my heart drops. My only option is to sit next to him—otherwise I’d be sitting by Mark and forcing his pregnant wife somewhere else. I slide into the seat beside Ethan, and he totally ignores my presence.
An awkward silence blankets the back of the car like the snow blankets the ground outside. I glance up at Mark, and he gives me a sympathetic smile. I don’t want his pity, though.
Both Mark and Reese have tried again and again to convince me this will all blow over, but as I sit beside the man whose arms I’ve never needed more, I can’t help but think how wrong they are.
We barrel through Chicago toward Mark’s condo, and once we get there, I’m not at all surprised by the fact that it’s an expansive place taking up the entire top floor of some skyscraper overlooking Lake Michigan. Reese shows me to a guestroom located directly next to the room where Ethan will be staying. I should feel like this might give us some chance to talk, but he won’t even look at me—still, even after three weeks.
I take a few minutes in my bedroom by myself. I hang up my coat in the closet. I draw in a couple deep breaths. The nausea is still with me pretty much throughout every day, but at least the vomiting has mostly stopped. Now I just feel like I’m constantly hungover—really fun for a girl who has to take the stage to entertain thousands of people and get them pumped up for the main act a few times a week.
I’m stalling. I’m scared to go out there, scared to face him. Scared he’ll continue to ignore my very existence, sure I can’t handle his rejection another time.
I gaze at myself in the mirror for a minute. I look lighter in the sense that the weight of secrecy has been lifted. It was a big load to bear for the last twenty years, but I feel stronger now that it’s out there. The complications have shifted, though. Where it was hard to keep it a secret before, it’s so much worse knowing how much the truth hurt Ethan.
I give myself a good ten minutes in the bedroom alone. I figure by now surely Ethan has joined Reese and Mark. I’m just trying to give him some space. When I feel like I might burst if I don’t head out to use the bathroom in the hallway, I finally leave the bedroom.
And, of course, as fate would have it, I run smack into Ethan, who’s just coming out of his own bedroom next door. I’m in his way to get from the hallway out to the living area where he’s headed, and I don’t budge. It’s my first chance alone with him in weeks, and I’m not missing it.
“Hi,” I say tentatively as my heart races. “How’s your arm?” He’s wearing long sleeves so I can’t tell if it’s still bandaged.
“Fine.” He raises his brows and presses his lips together.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
“Are you?” he asks. His voice is soft, but there’s no mistaking the animosity in his tone or the hatred in his steely blue eyes that land intensely on me after far too much time has passed.
I rest a hand over my stomach, a brand-new habit courtesy of the fetus. “Yes.” I inject every ounce of sincerity I can into my voice. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” I ask.
“What’s tomorrow?”
“We have studio time booked for our song.”
He looks away from me and blows out a breath. “Fuck,” he mutters.
“I finished the lyrics.�
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“Let’s cancel.”
I shake my head. “Be mad at me if you want, but you know we can make gold together.”
“I don’t want gold,” he grits out. “I want platinum. Diamond.”
Platinum, diamond, gold. All words that make me think of so much more than the success of a record. Words that make me think of a future with him—a future that was within my grasp, a future I never knew could be in the cards. A future that’s gone now.
“Then we’ll aim for platinum. Diamond is always the dream, isn’t it?” It’s somewhere between idle conversation and important, symbolic words, and I’ve lost what my real meaning even is at this point.
He shrugs. “Diamonds are for never.”
I shake my head. “For-ever, Ethan.”
“Fucking cliché bullshit.” He rolls his eyes. “Did you set it to music?”
“I had a few ideas.” I don’t admit I wrote the music to go with the song in case he had ideas, too. This was supposed to be a collaboration.
“We can’t go into the studio cold.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“I already suggested we cancel. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” He moves to step past me, but I widen my stance and block him.
“Ethan, stop being a fucking child and talk to me.”
“There’s nothing left to say.” His voice is icy, but it’s not icy enough to get me to back down.
“Then let’s sing. At least take a look at the lyrics I added and then we can decide if it’ll be worth it. If it is, we can go to the studio and record vocals and my band can go another time to add the tracks. I’ve never canceled studio time, and I’m not about to start now. Channel your anger into the song.” I’m appealing to his professionalism because it’s my last hope to get him to go with me.
“Fine,” he says resignedly. It’s only then I notice those blue eyes of his look tired and a little withdrawn. The way he says that single word makes it seem like I wore him down and he’s only agreeing because he doesn’t have the fight left in him anymore. “Show me what you wrote.”
I lead him into my bedroom and rummage through my bag until I find the paper with the lyrics I finished drafting days ago. I hand it over to him, the words burned in my mind. My heart thumps in my chest. I’ve made some pretty bold statements in the lyrics, but they’re part of my truth. If our original goal was to write about love and loss together, I think we were successful.
He glances up at me when he finishes reading, and from where I stand, it’s easy to see the pain and loss in his eyes. “Do you really feel like you’re the one under attack here?” he asks.
I lift a shoulder. “The whole reason I confessed the truth to you was because I almost lost you that night. I realized right then I couldn’t keep living this lie—and I had to stop lying to myself. I love you, Ethan. I’ve always loved you even when I thought it was something else. Maybe you can’t trust me ever again, or maybe we can start fresh. All I know is I need you, and I never thought that’s how we would end up. It cracks my heart wide open every time I see you and you won’t even look at me.”
His gaze on me turns into a glare. “You should’ve thought of that before you fell in love with me, I guess.” He tosses the paper on the bed. “I can’t do this.” He storms out of the room, and I pick it up and sit on the bed in its place. I hug the words to my chest as I wish I knew what to say to him to erase some of his anger at me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MACI
“Come in,” I say, swiping uselessly under my eyes as I try to hide the fact that I’ve been crying.
The door opens and Mark’s head pops in. “You want some pizza?” he asks. “We’re ordering from Lou Malnati’s. You like sausage?”
I’m sure there’s some perverted joke in there, but my heart’s not in it. “My favorite topping from my favorite pizza place.” I sniffle.
“I’ll get the order in. You okay?”
I shake my head. “He hates me, Mark.”
“He’s just angry right now.”
I pick at the comforter. “It’s been three weeks. How long’s he going to stay angry?”
He steps into the room. “I don’t know. He holds onto things a long time. His dad is dying and he won’t even go see him because of some grudge he has.”
“That’s awful,” I whisper. I had no idea he was going through that on top of learning about my own lies and nearly burning himself alive on stage. Sounds like it’s been a rough month for Ethan, and those are just the things I know about. Who knows what other demons he’s been fighting? “Is he here?”
Mark shakes his head. “He went out for a bit. Said he’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“We’re supposed to record lyrics tomorrow and he’s backing out.” I feel like a tattle-tale, but Mark might have some idea of how to deal with Ethan since they’ve known each other basically their entire lives.
“I’ll talk to him. He’ll be there.”
“We haven’t even set it to music yet,” I say. I’m still clutching the paper between my hands.
“But you’ve got ideas, right?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“Then you’ll practice tonight and hit the studio tomorrow, record a single that’ll blow ours out of the water, and find your way back together.”
I hold up my paper like it’s a toast. “Here’s hoping.”
“You will, Maci. Just give him some time. He’ll come around.” He gives me a half smile then disappears out the door to order the pizza.
There’s no sense holing myself up in the bedroom if he’s not even around, so I head out to the kitchen, where I find Reese propped on a stool with a book in front of her. She’s reading a passage out of it aloud to Mark, and he makes a face of sheer horror at me.
“This thing is going to poop eight to ten times a day?” he asks.
She nods. “That’s what it says. And stop calling it a thing.”
“Shit, let’s buy some stock in the diaper companies.”
She glances back at the book. “But if they only go once a day or not at all, that’s normal, too.”
“So between zero and ten times a day is normal?” Mark asks, his brows furrowing. “How the fuck does that make any sense?”
I giggle. These two are oddly refreshing, even though the eight to ten times a day thing is news to me, too.
“Pizza is ordered,” Mark says, clearly going for a subject change. “Vinny’s picking it up in a half hour.”
“So Ethan will be back within a half hour?” I ask.
He nods. “He’s on his way up now.”
I blow out a breath. “I’ll head back to my bedroom.”
“Stop it,” Reese says. She pats the stool next to her, and like a good little girl following directions, I sit next to her. “I invited you here because I want to spend time with you, and if you sit sulking in your bedroom, I don’t get that time.”
“You can come to my bedroom with me,” I say.
“Now that’s something I’d pay to see,” Mark says. Reese glares at him, and he holds his hands up in mock innocence. “What? Two hot pregnant ladies going at it?”
“You’re not making it better for yourself,” Reese says.
“Could be the newest porn fetish,” he says.
“There’s your million-dollar idea.” Reese looks at me and rolls her eyes.
“Did I hear something about a million-dollar porn fetish?” Ethan’s voice carries from around the corner and into the kitchen. “Because I’m all in for new ide—” He cuts his sentence short when he sees me sitting next to Reese in the kitchen. His mood changes from jovial to quiet and withdrawn with just one look at me.
“Pregnant lesbian sex,” Mark announces proudly.
Ethan ignores me and looks at Mark. He shakes his head. “It’s been done, dude.”
“Dammit,” he says. “Guess I’ll keep thinking on new ideas, then.”
Ethan helps himself to a beer from the fridg
e then sits on the stool on the other side of Reese.
Reese nudges him with her elbow. “Will you stop being a child and talk to Maci?”
“I’m not being a child.” He tips the bottle to his lips and drinks about half the liquid down before he sets it on the counter in front of him. He plays with the label—a sure sign of sexual frustration. Good. I’m sexually frustrated, too, and it’s because of him.
“You’re drinking from a bottle. Sounds like something babies do,” Reese says.
I press my lips together to keep from laughing.
He picks up his bottle and tips it in her direction. “They also suck on titties. Guess I’m just a giant baby.”
“You’re a pig,” Reese says, smacking him in the arm.
The urge to laugh leaves me at his words. Has he been sucking on titties since our falling out? I guess I don’t have a right to that information anymore, but the masochistic part of me wants to know.
“Maci tells me you two have studio time tomorrow,” Mark says, and I want the ground to swallow me whole. I wasn’t expecting to be called out. I figured Mark would talk to Ethan privately about it and he’d just magically show up.
“Yeah,” Ethan says. “We’re cancelling.” He tips the bottle to his lips and finishes it.
“I’m not cancelling,” I say. “At the very least, I’ll record something else I’ve been working on.”
“Do what you want.” Ethan stands and tosses his bottle in the recycling before heading to the fridge for another.
“Don’t be a dick,” Mark says.
“We don’t even have a tune,” Ethan whines. He sits back down next to Reese.
Mark motions for him to get out of the chair so he can sit next to his wife. “So? We’ve gone in without lyrics before.”
Ethan doesn’t move. “Yeah, and remember what a fucking disaster that was?”
“Remember how we came up with ‘Never Before’?” Mark counters.
Their song ‘Never Before’ is one of their biggest hits, and I wonder what he means. I sit quietly, which is not my personality. I want to jump in and ask a million questions about their process. I want to be the girl I grew into, the Maci these people know and I’ve embraced over the years. But I don’t because I can’t risk pissing off Ethan even more, especially not when Mark’s working in my favor to get him to the studio tomorrow.
