Since Colton moved in with me, we’ve done some weekend trips here and there so he can see the different places in Europe that I love the best.

London, obviously. We flew to Vienna two weeks ago and ate spaetzle at a little table overlooking Graben. A trip to Rome proved to be Colton’s favorite, the Vatican and the ruins of the Colosseum absolutely floored him.

But the one place that was nearest to my heart, the one that made me feel vulnerable and small each time I stepped foot back in it … no, I hadn’t taken him there yet.

Until now.

“That’s where you grew up?” Colton is standing next to me on the sidewalk outside a dingy apartment building.

Both of our heads are tilted up, looking where my finger points at a third-floor window. “That’s it. A one bedroom, seven hundred square feet. I used to sleep on the sofa.”

The noises of Liverpool dance around us. Traffic, machinery from the factories, boats coming in to port. Underneath that, if you strain your ears, you can hear the sound of musical instruments coming from the various pubs, and down at the music school. Every bright-eyed student who came here had the same dream of being the Beatles one day.

“Thank you for showing me your roots.” He turns to me, his dark hair so contrasted by his light blue-green eyes.

I stare at the ring of blue surrounded by the ring of green, trying to get a grip on my emotions. I’d finally decided to bring Colton here after weeks of internal debate. Coming back to Liverpool always made me fear that I’d end up under the poverty line again. Once you come from nothing, you keep running, keep working, never to be there again.

But he’d shown me his hometown, flayed himself open and showed me all of his scars and wounds. So I knew I had to do the same. It was the last piece of my puzzle, and he needed to see it.

“I used to sit in that window and stare out, dreaming of a life like the one I have now. Only … it’s funny …”

“What is?” He wraps his long, muscled arms around my waist.

People pass on the sidewalk, completely unaware of who we are. “When you don’t have the wealth or the fame or the houses or the cars or whatever it is that you think you need to be happy, you’re completely convinced that once you get it, your life will be complete. But it’s not, is it? It’s why girls like those in Charter continue to gossip and rank and haze. They’re so bored with the privilege that they need more; they need to indulge in the next thing. And to a certain extent, I was the same way. I became so unimpressed by the money and status. I needed more mystery, and the highs I followed became more dangerous and more outlandish with each passing moment. It’s easy to see now that I just wasn’t happy. I was trying to tell myself this lie; that by being independent and untouchable, snubbing my nose at everything, I was happy and fierce. But I wasn’t. I was just a scared fool.”

Colton’s eyes search mine. “You know, you’re a hard woman to unwrap. But each time I find a new layer, I’m pleasantly, and humbly, surprised. There is so much more to you, Eloise Mason, than you ever let on. And I’m happy I get to be the one you show that part of you to.”

I push up on my toes and kiss him. “And I’m happy that you were so cheeky with me on that first night at The Croc. And that the cockiness matches what you’re packing.”

I squeeze one perfect arse cheek and Colton rolls his eyes. “Is that all you care about?”

“Pretty much.” I smile jovially.

“Okay, so now that we’ve seen the childhood apartment, what’s next?” He’s trying to cheer me up.

“Well, there is the shopping. Some fantastic shopping in the downtown area.”

He smiles. “That’s your element. I want to see some sights, otherwise, I’m not a real American tourist.”

“We could do the Beatles tour.” I shrug.

“Never listened to them.” His face shows no sign of recognition.

Shock pulses through me. “What?!”

Colton nods. “I just … it was never my type of music.”

I can’t grasp this. “John, Paul, Ringo and George are everyone’s type of music.”

“I guess they just never were mine.”

“Okay, we are rectifying this, right now. I can’t believe you’ve never actually listened to one Beatles song all the way through. That’s a travesty. Well, no matter, we’ll get you brushed up in no time on my non-official Beatles tour of Liverpool.”

Colton laces his fingers through mine. “As long as we can end it with a beer at the Cavern Club.”

I look at him, shocked. “I thought you said you didn’t know anything about the Beatles!”

He grins, patting himself on the back. “I may not know the Beatles, but I do know famous places in Liverpool. When you told me we were coming to your hometown, I did my research. Oh, and I would also like to get tickets to a football match, if possible.”

Smiling, I lead him down the street, my attitude about where I grew up taking a turn for the better. “I think that can be arranged.”

It’s funny what personal growth and the love of another will do for you. Experiencing the city with Colton, seeing it through his eyes, makes me appreciate this place more. Over the next few hours, as we make our way through the Beatles Museum, to Penny Lane, past Strawberry Field, and finally stopping for appetizers and a drink while some band plays at the Cavern Club … I fall a little bit in love with the city that raised me.

As I’d said to Colton, I’d learned that the affluent status I once thought was of utmost importance, was absolute rubbish.

Real happiness finally came when I let all of that go, and embraced my truth. And the love that that truth brought.