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We’ve spent the last five days in bliss, soaking up the remaining time we have left together before he leaves tomorrow. He’s confident there’ll be time in his schedule to fly home once a month. As much as I’d love to fly out to see him, we collectively agreed it wasn’t worth it, not with the press sniffing out any juicy morsels about his personal life. There’s enough speculation online already, and the last thing we need while we’re still healing is for rumors and false stories to circulate.
Tate’s been on and off the phone with Vanessa all week. There’s no proof Howard deleted the text message, and as it stands, there’s no valid legal ground for him to cut ties with the label. Money isn’t everything, but the penalties would be financially devastating with the advances and royalties they’ve paid Tate so far, not to mention potential lawsuits and loss of master recordings.
We just have to get through the next twelve months.
Margot, Willow, Harriet, Ethan, and I lounge across two picnic blankets spread out on the grass. Every Sunday, a rally of food trucks park at the gardens, offering Mexican street food, wood-fired pizzas, and Korean barbecue.
Harriet sits with her legs crossed, lightly bouncing Ethan on his chubby, wobbly baby legs. He gurgles and coos in his mom’s hold. Margot smiles contentedly as she watches Willow flip through her thick paperback in between bites of pizza.
Margot catches my eye and grins. “You look happy.”
I pat my cheek to find a smile. “I am.”
They both raise an eyebrow.
“Wait. You’re wearing your ring.” Harriet straightens. “What does this mean? Are you back together?”
The corner of my mouth hitches higher.
I drop the remainder of my taco onto the paper plate and wipe my hands on a napkin. “I wanted to wait until Parker arrived, but I don’t think she’s going to make it.”
Harriet waves a hand in the air. “Rewind. What the hell is going on?”
I give them the CliffsNotes version, leaving out the saucy parts with Willow listening in. I tell them about last summer, the sacrifices, the arguments, the lonely nights. I tell them about my parents turning up and Howard’s sabotaging. And that we’re going to make the next year work. By the end, they’re glassy-eyed and sniffling.
Harriet hugs a snoozing Ethan to her chest. I knew this would be her reaction. “Tals. You never told me you were trying for a baby. If I’d known, I would’ve been more sensitive and not gone on about my pregnancy.”
“Don’t you dare.” Ethan doesn’t make a peep when I brush a finger over his button nose. “This little guy is everything. I love him so much and I’ve never once felt bitter, not for a second. Life got complicated, and it wasn’t our time.”
“He loves his godmother too.” She wipes her cheek. “But it’s your time now? You’re going to make the next year work while he finishes his term with the label. Then what?”
My chest tightens at the idea of being away from him again, only this time it’s a dull ache, nothing like the intense pressure I’ve experienced in the last year. It’ll hurt, but in the end, I know he’ll be coming home to me.
“I really hope so.” My gaze cuts to a flock of birds soaring through the orange-streaked clouds. “I don’t want to imagine a future without him anymore.”
They both smile.
“Your aura still glows red,” Margot says musingly. “But there’s a new color.”
“What one?”
“Green. Splashes of olive and mint. It means emotional healing and balance.” She smiles. “It looks good on you.”
I stare down at my left hand, the silver band glinting in the early evening sun as I roll it with my thumb. “It feels good.”
The house is dark when I get home. No sign of Tate.
“I’m home,” I call. No reply. Dumping my keys in the dish near the front door, I slip off my sneakers and pad down the hallway. “Hello?”
Still nothing.
Guessing he’s still out, I head into the kitchen and flip on the lights.
A bloodcurdling scream cracks through the house when I find Tate standing in the middle of the room.
“Oh my god!” I clutch my chest.
He chuckles, hands tucked behind his back. “Sorry.”
