“You’re never going to get hurt again,” Blue is whispering in the back seat next to Lyric, who’s holding the dog in her lap. “And you’re never going to be scared or lonely or hungry again. I promise.”
“We have to pick a name for him,” Lyric says.
“No, you have to wait. He’ll tell you his name.”
“How?”
“You just have to sit with him for a while, and talk to him, and look into his eyes. And suddenly, his name will pop into your head. It’s like special dog telepathy.”
I glance at them in the rearview mirror, and Lyric is smiling, totally buying Blue’s theory.
“Did Acorn tell you his name?” she asks.
“Yup. Exactly like that.”
“Is that how you got your name, Blue? Did it just pop into your head?”
He turns his head to look out the car window. “Yeah. One day I woke up with wings and I could sing, and suddenly my name was Blue.”
His words sound poetic—like the words from his songs. And I can see that Lyric believes them as such.
But something deep in my gut is telling me they’re not just words at all.
Chapter Forty-Three
2012
“When are you coming home?” I press the phone against my shoulder and finish rubbing the lavender moisturizer over my arms. This particular blend is supposed to enhance sleep, and if I had known he was going to call I wouldn’t have climbed into bed and started putting it on.
“Um… next week? The week after, maybe? I don’t really know, babe, it’s like crazy o’clock here and I don’t have a calendar in front of me. I don’t even know what day today is.”
Disappointment sets off a burn in my stomach and a heavy weight in my chest that’s been growing heavier and heavier over the past few weeks. I’m afraid it will suffocate me soon.
I let out a breath that was intended to release the pressure in my body but instead takes on the sound of an irritated sigh.
“Piper…I know you’re pissed, and I am too, but this shit is outta my control. Vic lined up some live radio interviews, and that late-night TV thing. I don’t even fucking know anymore, I just go where I’m told.”
“I know,” I say. “I know it’s not your fault. I’m not pissed.” What I am is lonely and aching to have my fiancé home. I’m desperate to see his smile and feel his hands caressing me. I want to breathe him in and fill my lungs with his masculine, comforting scent. Nothing else has the power to get this weight off my chest.
“I miss you and Lyric. I fucking hate this. You have no idea.”
Oh, I do have an idea, because I hate not seeing him just as much.
“I miss you, too. We both do.”
“Do you? Or are you just finally getting sick of me and all this crap?”
“Of course I miss you. Lyric and I both miss you. And so do Archie and Mickey. It’s just…” I choose my words carefully. “…hard to be without you for so long. We haven’t seen you in what, a month?”
He groans. “Christ, has it been that long?”
“Yeah, it has. “
“Fuck, Ladybug. I’m sorry. I’ve got no sense of time anymore. All these different time zones fuck me up.”
“I know. It’s okay, hon. Really.”
He coughs and I hear him taking a sip of something. “It’s not okay.”
I twirl the engagement ring on my finger, turning it so it’s straight. The stone is so heavy it always tilts to one side of my small finger, but I refuse to have it resized and made tighter. I never take it off. It’s this symbol of promises that keeps me going—our wedding. Our forever.
It’s just taking way longer than I had hoped.
“Are you all right, Blue?”
“I’m tired, and my throat hurts, that’s all. And I wish I was in our bed and not this hotel. I’ve got two places to live and I still feel homeless. The irony of my life is a scream.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. All I want is to be home with you. I wake up every night reaching for you, and when I realize you’re not here, I lose my mind. I miss making you pancakes and I miss your giggles and your sexy little moans. Living like this is fucking painful and I don’t even know why I’m doing this anymore.”
“Because you were born to sing and bring music into the world. And that world loves you.”
“Well I’m not loving the world. I love you and my daughter and those fuzzy creatures that get to sleep with my girl every night in my bed.”
I’d give anything to have him in our bed right now. I need him to be here, in person, so I can look into his beautiful blue eyes and say all the things I’ve been waiting to say for weeks.
“Hopefully you’ll be here soon and you can rest and recharge. I think you’re just overtired.” Every time the band travels overseas he gets agitated and depressed. I think the time difference and the erratic sleep patterns really mess with him and stress him out.
He coughs again, and the snap of his lighter follows. My heart sinks when I hear him inhale. Two months ago he quit smoking cigarettes. I’d bet anything the stress of this tour is what caused him to start up again.
“Ya know what, babe? I think I just want to be done.”
My heart jolts. “What do you mean, done?”
“With the band. It’s like a vampire, just bleeding me dry and I don’t have anything left to give. I’m so fucking tired. I love to write and play but I’m not even doing that anymore. I’m like a robot half the time. The only time I love what I’m playing is when I play for you.”
“Are you saying you want to quit the band?”
He inhales, pauses, exhales smoke.
“Yeah. I think I am.”
“You’re really going to have to think about that,” I say. I can’t deny I’d love having him home all the time and not being pulled in eighty directions all over the world, but he is No Tomorrow. There’s no way they could replace him. His voice is too unique, his presence too charismatic. I don’t think the fans would ever accept someone else in his place. It just wouldn’t work.
But I also don’t think the rest of the band is going to let him go without a huge fight. While Reece has expressed getting tired of it all as well, the other band members and their manager are loving the fame and fortune. They can’t get enough of it.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’m just so fucking tired I hurt, Piper. I can’t even explain it. I just want you in my arms every night, listening to the rain. That’s it.”
“I want that too,” I say faintly. I’m almost afraid to verbalize the words for fear it’ll jinx any chance of it ever happening.
“What are you doing now?” I ask, unsure if it’s morning, noon, or night where he is.
“Just hanging out in my room. I wanted to take a nap before I have to head out but I can’t get my brain to turn off. I miss you too much.”
I reach for the sound machine next to the bed and pull it closer to me. I switch it to the rain setting and put the phone on speaker.
“I want you to get in bed, get all comfy, and listen to this. I’m going to be right here in bed with you. Just close your eyes, think about us, and the rain, and nothing else. Okay?”
The sound of sheets rustling and the creak of a mattress lets me know he’s getting into his bed.
A deep sigh comes over the line. “You’re amazing, Ladybug. You know that? I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t love me.”
I smile in the dark, and the pressure in my chest eases up just a little.
“You don’t ever have to worry about that. My heart doesn’t beat without yours.”
I stay on the phone listening to his breathing, and after a few minutes I can tell he’s fallen asleep. I keep the phone and the rain station on his pillow next to mine, and I drift off to sleep, too.
I dream that he’s home, and he wraps me up in his arms and I’m finally able to tell him we’re having a baby.
Chapter Forty-Four
I call her cell phone for what must be the fiftieth time.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Piper Karel. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Thanks!”
“Babe, it’s me. Where are you? I’ve been calling you for hours. Not sure what’s going on. Call me when you get this. I love you.”
My hand shakes erratically as I end the call. Ashes spill off the cigarette I’m holding and sprinkle onto the hotel carpet.
I hold the butt to my lips and suck it like I’m syphoning for air. I hold the smoke in my lungs. Let it fill my hollow void, then let it out.
I pace the room. Exactly six steps to the balcony. Exactly six steps back to the edge of the bed.
Six.
Six.
Six.
Piper always answers my calls. She’s a creature of extreme habit—always at the same place at the same time of day every day. She’s the one and only thing that doesn’t fuck with me or confuse me.
It’s five p.m. there.
It’s ten p.m. here.
I woke at six a.m.
Didn’t I? What day is it?
Does that even fucking matter?