Typically, the boys perform two or three nights in a row then get a night or two off. On the nights off, we get to sleep in a hotel—a luxury I appreciate more than I ever thought possible.
I love touring the country with Vail. It hasn’t been all sunshine and red wine; we’ve had some growing pains and fights. It took me a good two weeks to even be able to fall asleep on a bed in the back of a moving vehicle. I felt awkward the first time we had sex back there when I knew Ethan was just on the other side of the door with a woman of his own. And last night, we got into an epic fight when I went to the hotel ahead of him while he took care of a few things with the guys. He called me to check in and hung up on me when some woman whose voice I didn’t recognize called his name.
I refused to answer when he called back, but later I found out that one of the crew guys had fallen off some scaffolding and broke a few ribs. It was my fault we got into a fight over it. Mark yelled at me not to shut him out ever again, and I yelled at him never to hang up on me again, and then we made up in the sweetest, most aggressive way.
Despite the minimal struggles, it’s been one adventure after another. We’re seeing parts of the country I’ve never seen before. We cuddle in bed on the bus as we look out the window at the landscape passing us by. He’s more than I ever expected him to be. He puts me first, worries about my needs and comfort over his own. But that’s something Lizzie told me—that he puts everyone else first.
So I put him first. He won’t do it, but someone should.
I’ve even gotten used to the women who embarrass themselves in the presence of a man who has a girlfriend. They grab his ass, pull his arm toward them, fling their arms around him—and worse. Much, much worse.
He’s always gracious, but I can tell it wears on him—not because he doesn’t revel in the attention, but because he hates what it does to me.
The darkest cloud is Ethan. I keep waiting for a breakthrough, but he hasn’t warmed up to me at all. His sister only attended that one show in Atlanta, though I admit I was worried she’d go on the road with us for a few stops, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle that.
Ethan tends to bring a different woman back to the bus every night. When the bus is rocking, we hang on the other one. Mark and I don’t talk about it, but I often wonder if that’s how he acted, too, before I came along.
“After the show tonight, I promised Ethan I’d do an appearance with him. Is that okay with you?” Mark asks me a few minutes before he needs to leave the bus and head backstage for pre-game—a ritual I still know nothing about. I’m sitting on the bed on the bus with my new work laptop on my lap as I read through the comments on the video clip I posted earlier from today’s soundcheck.
“Of course,” I say. “You don’t need to ask me. It’s part of your job. But before you go, I need some pictures. Maybe of both of you.”
He leans down to kiss me, and the butterflies that flutter around my belly tell me that even though some time has passed, his kiss will always be special. “You didn’t let me finish.” His breath is hot and minty against my lips.
I raise a brow. “Go on.”
“The last time we did an appearance, I landed in the hospital for a couple days.”
“You vowed you wouldn’t self-destruct,” I remind him. “So as long as you keep your word, we’re good.”
“I’m a man of my word. You know that.”
I nod. “I trust you.”
The adoration in his eyes as he smiles down at me still sends a shock of giddiness through my system. “Good. And speaking of words...” He trails off and opens one of the dresser drawers. He flips through a stack of papers, finds the one he’s looking for, and closes the drawer. “I wrote a new song.” He folds the paper nervously in half and sets it on top of the dresser.
“When?”
“I started it the morning you left me in Chicago, and I finished it yesterday. I want you to be the first to see the words.”
“Before Ethan?” I ask. Ethan may be a dick, but he’s also an amazing lyricist and Mark’s right-hand man when it comes to songwriting.
He nods. “It’s a song for you, and I’m planning to use it on my solo album.”
“Album?”
He grins. “Pen booked me studio time in February. It’s after the US tour and before Europe. I’ve already got a drummer and a bassist lined up.”
“Are you sure you want a solo album?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I never thought about it before, but between Steve doing something for himself and you stepping into my life, I’m inspired to do something for me.”
I set my laptop beside me and stand to pull him into a hug. “I’m so excited for you.”
He presses a kiss to my neck. “I need you there every step of the way. I want to run lyrics by you, I want you to listen to the riffs. I want your opinion.
“Me?” I ask. “But I’m a fan. I’ll love anything you do.”
He runs a fingertip along my jaw. “That may be true, but I also believe you want to see me succeed as much as I do. That’s what a real partner is, and that’s what you’ve become for me.”
I lift my chin and press my lips to his, amazed that I’m somehow the one he chose to become his partner.
“Open it when I go,” he says softly, nodding with his head toward the piece of paper on the dresser. He kisses me once more then disappears through the bedroom door to head backstage.
I wander over to the dresser and pick up the folded piece of paper. I raise it to my nose and breathe it in, catching the faintest hint of sandalwood as I do.
And then I open it. Before I read any of it, I glance down the page. Some words are crossed out and others are scratched out. The page is a mess, but I can easily read what he wants me to read. I focus on the title at the top of the page, and my breath catches in my throat.
Clean Break.
I close my eyes for a beat as I feel those two words wash over me—words I said to him when I left him in Chicago, when I told him that was what I needed from him.
And then I read the lyrics.
I would’ve given it all up for you
When we parted ways up on that roof
They say I’m stupid to pine for you
I’ll write another song to show the proof
We said our goodbyes
But they were full of lies
You wanted a clean break
But it was only heartbreak
I haven’t touched another woman
Since the morning when you left my bed
I don’t want any other woman
Can’t get you the fuck out of my head
We said our goodbyes
But they were full of lies
You wanted a clean break
But it was only heartbreak
Too terrified to lose you
Started my own self-destruction
I lost myself on the road
Without you there is no sun
We finally said hello again
Back in my arms where you belong
We got our clean break at last
When I left behind my sordid past
When I’m done reading the words, tears are streaming down my cheeks. He’s given up so much to be with me, just like I have for him. And that’s what a partnership is.
He’s right. We needed a clean break, but I didn’t realize that it wasn’t a break from each other. It was Mark who needed to leave some things in the past so we could find a future together.
I want to get him alone before the show so I can tell him how much his words meant to me. We have a new beginning together, and I want to celebrate that. But it’ll have to wait until later.
His eyes find mine when I walk into the room after their pre-game. His are heated and full of all the same emotions I just read on a piece of paper. We do our Jägermeister toast and then Vick leads us all to the stage.
“Wish me luck,” Mark says, pulling me into his arms. His mouth is inches from mine.
“You? Nah, you don’t need it.” I’m breathless at his proximity.
He’s smiling when he kisses me. “Nah, you’re probably right.”
He runs to the stage after one last kiss, and I take my spot beside Angelique on the side of the stage. Morgan is on her other side, and the three of us hold hands. I squeeze Angelique’s hand in mine. Tonight is the last time she’ll be with us for a while. She won’t be coming back after the tour break, and the boys will be auditioning someone who can temporarily take Steve’s place while we’re in Chicago. Mark seems to know everyone in the music industry and has worked with tons of prominent musicians. His approved list of who could potentially temporarily replace someone as irreplaceable as Steve is short.
I’m glad it’s dark on the side of the stage, because the emotions I felt after reading the “Clean Break” lyrics are still lurking as a lump settles in my throat.
I’ve watched this same performance sixteen times in the last twenty-six days, and it never gets old. I take some pictures and a little video footage for social media posting, but mostly I just watch.
I watch as Mark owns the stage. I watch as he runs past me then stops and backs up to plant a sweaty kiss on my mouth before he grabs a clean shirt from Vick for the second half of their set. I gaze at the perfect abdomen that’ll be all mine later as he rips off the sweaty shirt and pulls on the new one. I watch as he works the crowd with that rock star magic he has and as they take their final bow after their encore.
I wish I could say that then he’s mine, but he has an appearance to do. He takes a quick shower and I head back to the bus.
He pops in with a quick goodbye kiss while I lay across the couch, and then he’s off to hang with his best friend while I get the bus to myself.
Except I don’t.
A knock at the bus door forces me up from my comfortable position. Morgan and Angelique stand just outside the door, and Morgan holds two glasses of wine. “Girls’ night?” she asks, holding one of the glasses up to me.
“Hell yes,” I say, and they climb the stairs.
Angelique pulls up a romantic comedy on Netflix and we all settle into various comfortable seats on the bus. This really is like a home on the road, like my best friends have come over to spend some quality time together.
As Morgan plays idly with my hair and we sip wine, I realize how true that is. While I do miss Jill and she’ll always be my best friend, we text every day and talk a few times a week. She’s about the only thing I miss from my old life in Las Vegas, and I think it’s because I’ve found a niche for myself in this new life.