Whenever one visits London, they become a Londoner.

There is something about this city that just takes over your soul, molding you into a calm, cool, confident type who likes to walk the streets on a brisk afternoon and pop into a pub for a long date with a dark stout. This city, with its beautiful parks, cozy eateries, bustling traffic and efficient tube system just gets into the marrow of your bones, making you never want to leave.

For me, it’s also the city that shaped of some of the greatest musicians ever known to man. The Who, Oasis, David Bowie, Pink Floyd, and who could forget the kings? The Beatles. With every alley I turn down, and every royal walkway I step on, I hear the ghost of Sgt. Pepper.

If it weren’t for my home base and the industry being firmly supplanted in California, I probably would have moved here a long time ago. As it is, I try to spend three to four months out of the year in the flat I bought in this city. It’s so peaceful, so much less media attention and the need to keep up with anyone.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with this bar.” Johnny takes a swig of his fourth beer, the thick foam from the dark ale sticking to his upper lip.

“I think you mean the beer, man.” Neil raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smile forming beneath his beard.

“Nope, I mean the bar. I could live here and be as happy as a clam.” Johnny’s meaty hand sets his glass down.

For a guy who looked like one of the giants in Harry Potter, my bassist was a complete teddy bear. Six foot seven and almost three hundred pounds of sheer muscle, Johnny was like Hagrid’s twin. He was also one of the greatest guys I knew, and an asset to keep around in an industry full of so many phonies.

The bar we’d stumbled across was almost hidden from the street by how much ivy and shrubbery covered its brick face. The door was only viewable if you looked closely, like some secret garden smack dab in the middle of London proper. And on the inside? A wood paneled paradise. Gleaming bar tops, dark wood walls, a dark paneled floor to match. It was a man’s paradise, full of the best brewed alcohol and perfectly fried fish and chips.

“I say we stay in London, man. It’s just … better here. Fuck LA, I’m over it.” Neil clinks my glass.

I couldn’t say I disagreed. “Well, we still have the next two shows here, and then it’s a short trip home before Germany in a month.”

The show tonight had been fucking amazing. I loved playing these smaller venues, really getting to sing for and entertain the true fans, the ones who knew not just our hits, but the rare stuff. I could play some of my very first EP songs and they sang right along, the room hushed and respectful but also fully tuned into the experience. So far, we’d done four shows in the week and a half we’d been here, and we’d perform twice more before flying back to Hollywood and its bullshit glamour.

“Let’s go out tonight.” Johnny gives us puppy dog eyes.

“We are out, right now,” Neil deadpans, his approach to seeing through Johnny’s demands just a straight and narrow bulldoze.

“No I mean out. It’s been way too long since we were each other’s wingmen. I could use a nice woman to keep me company tonight, and damn do I love a British accent.”

Neil tilts his head to the side. “Shit, brother, you got me there. The London ones are always so fun.”

I flip them off, scoffing. “You two boneheads do remember I’m a kept man now?”

Neil keeps his mouth shut, because he knows about the contract, but Johnny just laughs. “As if a ring was ever going to keep you from sticking your dick where it doesn’t belong. Isn’t that how we got into the Hannah mess in the first place? Monogamy, bro, it’s not your strong suit.”

My heart flinches, my pride wounded and my ego more than a little salted. “Can we ixnay the Hannah talk? I haven’t been getting as crucified about it, in the media or in interviews, but that girl is like voodoo. Say her name and she’ll appear like Bloody Mary. And fuck you, man. I am faithful to Kara, she’s my fiancée.”

“That isn’t an ‘I love you,’” Neil chimes in, and I want to sucker punch him in the jaw.

“I love her, I do.” I glare at him.

“You hardly ever bring her around the band, man. She never comes to rehearsals, she was briefly at that club one night before you got into it and left. The concert before we left she was there, but she didn’t say more than two words to me. I just don’t see it. And you get engaged to this girl who was your high school sweetheart literally out of nowhere? I’m not going to say I listen to rumors, but there are some going around, Dean.” Johnny shrugs sympathetically, but he’s a straight shooter too, as always.

“Rumors? Who the fuck is saying something?” That pisses me off, especially if the people closest to me, like my bandmates, are talking shit.

“Not me, but there are some accusations going around the musician scene, and I can’t say some of them don’t sound accurate, dude. No offense, but this feels like a contract engagement.”

I should have known my bandmates would be smarter than I thought they were. Contract relationships were such a normal in our industry, that they were basically the new brand of love. But I should have thought ahead, made up a better cover story for those closest to me. I had to admit too, it looked fucking suspicious to pull this woman, who I never talk about, out of nowhere and suddenly she’s spending her life with me and we are headed to the altar.

I’m half-drunk and trust these two, so I don’t even try to deflect. I’m tired of bottling up my feelings, and I could really use someone to talk to.

“So what if it started like that? It doesn’t mean it isn’t real now.” I sulk into my sudsy mug of comfort.

“Oh man, you didn’t.” Neil sighs.

“What?” I sound like a cranky teenager.

“Wait, it really is a contract relationship? I knew it!” Johnny covers his mouth, like he wasn’t supposed to say that.

“Did you really fall in love? Tell me you didn’t fuck her?” Neil is staring at me with that judgmental look in his eyes.

I turn to Johnny. “Yes, and don’t tell anyone. It might even be more, but don’t tell anyone that either.” Then I turn to my best friend. “And what does that mean? I finally have the girl I love more than anything back in my life, of course I am trying to make something happen.”

Neil shakes his head while Johnny looks back and forth between us. “But not like this. She’s tied to you, legally. While that contract stands between you, nothing will be real. Either tear it up in some grand gesture, or leave it be. You might be catching feelings, shit, she might too. And fucking each other’s brains out is one thing. But can you honestly start something with a foundation that is such a lie? Remember, Kara wasn’t thrilled about moving in with you.”

His words annoy the shit out of me, grating on my skin like one of those arm burns your frenemy gives you in kindergarten. The sensation slides down my spine, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I know he’s right.

“No, I can’t undo the contract. It has a shelf life … she’s guaranteed things too.” It was an excuse, to guard myself.

Because as long as I can keep her tied to me, I don’t have to wonder if she’d stay if she had the choice. I can have her right where I want her, with a clause in place to hold her there if she decided she didn’t want to love me the same way I loved her.

After the night at the concert, I didn’t want to know the way she would look at me. Would she think it was a mistake? Could I be hopeful enough that she would fall in love with me again? That she would put aside all of the past animosity and shit from our history? I didn’t know. So I ran. Like a fucking coward. I’d fucked up, but I knew that when I got home, she would still have to be there.

Neil looks at me as if he’s seeing right through my arguments, and I know I won’t be able to hide from this truth for long. But right now, this contract is all I have.

I need all the time with her that I can get before we know for sure that the two of us is something that will last for real.