Reverse (Bittersweet Symphony Duet #2)

FIFTY-FOUR “Ever the Same”

FIFTY-FOUR

“Ever the Same”

Rob Thomas

Natalie

T he heart-stopping melody of “Hypnotised” gets cut abruptly from where it plays on my nightstand, adding to the tally that now totals four missed calls. It doesn’t include the dozens of others from Holly, Damon, and Rosie, who’ve also sent me a slew of furious texts that I’ve left unanswered for now. The overwhelming domino effect that started in Sedona is still scattering around me, even a thousand miles away. Seconds later, a text message pops up on display, and I grab my phone and strain to read it, my eyes swollen.

EC: Damnit, Beauty, answer me.

I haven’t heard a word from either parent since I got home yesterday, not that I expected to. With Dad’s ban from Speak , and the knowledge I’d be working for my mother at Hearst Media, it’s up to me to be a responsible adult and figure out the when, where and who to report to, but I haven’t been able to leave my bed since I got back to my apartment. Easton flew out of Seattle this morning, meeting the band on the road due to his rapidly filling concert schedule. While he has some semblance of normalcy to immerse himself back into, I feel as paralyzed as I was in Arizona.

Opening my laptop had proven to be a mistake. The headlines and social media kickback is a mix of support and condemnation, the latter from women who seem to have banded together and deemed me unworthy of Easton. My initial search led me toward a rabbit hole I quickly opted out of and refuse to feed into. Because I’ve seen so much internet evil over the years, I’ve developed a healthy immunity to it. Regardless of the tolerance I’ve built, it still stings being scrutinized and judged. What confidence I have for the moment has nothing to do with the headlines, but it’s being stripped away by the complete lack of communication with my parents—the current state of their marriage unknown. The isolation I feel in their silence is both uncomfortable and foreign. It’s as if I’ve cracked vital pieces of a foundation I thought impenetrable. Every step I take moving forward in either direction feels damning, like it could be the misstep that costs me everything.

Even if Easton and I wait for the initial shock to wear off, it seems we’ve alienated our parents in a way that feels irreparable. Because of that, we may never get an invitation, let alone an open door for conversation.

Reid’s scathing glare yesterday continues to haunt me. Upon first sight, it was undeniable just how much of Easton’s looks are inherited from his father. Reid’s eyes, like my husband’s, are both capable of the same type of injury without a spoken word. Like my own father’s.

In many respects, so much of our lives mirror the others. Despite the toll, it still seems like kismet.

Not once had I added ‘wreaking havoc on my own parents’ marriage’ into the number of scenarios I’d come up with when picturing this fallout.

What baffles me the most is how the incredible, colorful world Easton and I created together has been muted to a lifeless shade of unknown grey.

Love is meant to be celebrated, not mourned, and it seems mourning has been all I’ve done—to some degree or another—since I found it with Easton. My cowardice in answering my husband’s call is because he wants me to fight. It’s a fight I agreed to. A fight I intend on seeing through. But a fight I feel was ripped from me the second I witnessed the detrimental difference between what I imagined the battle with our consequences would be, to the war I fear it will become. It was made abundantly clear to us both in that villa.

Our fathers hate each other.

Maybe to the point our love for the other won’t ever matter.

Whatever lies ahead, Easton’s worth it. We’re worth it, but I don’t want him to know just how shaken I am or that he unknowingly broke promises he had no grounds to make.

Loving him, marrying him, cost me everything he assured me it wouldn’t—my relationship with my father and mother . As well as my desk at the paper and the possibility of losing my future at Speak altogether. The question now is the permanence of the damage. Damage I refuse to guilt him for.

My phone vibrates again with an incoming call from EC , the song taking me right back to that beautiful place and time I first heard it, stirring some strength from within me. Other than changing my ringtone, I have yet to program his name to something more, to clarify his significance in my life and the happiness it brought me before it was ripped away. Holding the phone in my hand, I take a calming breath before sliding it to answer.

“Beauty?” he gasps, before I get a chance to get a word in.

“I’m here,” I murmur.

“Jesus. I’m so fucking pissed at you. How could you not answer my calls?”

“I texted you,” I mumble. “It’s, it’s been a day. I’m sorry,” I wipe at my stinging cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay,” he exhales harshly. “What’s happening?”

“How is your mother?” I fire back.

“She’s fine,” he replies quickly, too quickly.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not, but fine is a stretch. She was still somewhere between furious and devastated when I left this morning, which was an improvement from when I got there. Dad isn’t speaking to me.”

“Same,” I say. “But her health?”

“She’s fine, baby. I’m not stretching that truth at all. She didn’t stroke and was only sedated as a precaution.”

“Jesus, Easton. You never told me about that.”

“Because it’s been over a decade since her last episode. I didn’t think . . . Jesus, I didn’t think . . .”

“ We chose not to think. Young, reckless, and na?ve,” I remind him.

“Please don’t try and validate their behavior yesterday. That was not fucking okay. Tell me what’s happening.”

“I messaged our receptionist, and she told me Speak is surrounded by paparazzi, which is expected, so I’m working from home for now.”

“Okay, that’s not so bad, right?”

“No,” I lie. I hate that I am lying, but if I reveal the whole truth and the consequences I’m facing, I have a feeling he’ll come straight to me—and so will his temper, which could be even more destructive. His next words only confirm it.

“Come to me, Beauty. Come on tour for a few days. You can work anywhere remotely. I’ll fly you here.”

“Easton, we have to face this, face them . Our parents are integrated closely into both our lives.”

“Yeah, well, now I’m beginning to think that’s not such a good thing.”

“It’s a large part of who we are. We can’t change that. I don’t want to.”

“Dad’s not touring with us anymore, so it’s changing regardless.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not. That cord needed cutting a long fucking time ago.”

“That’s not true. He’s your touchstone.”

“You’re my fucking world.”

“You’re angry,” I know the hurt will soon follow as he speaks up.

“Joel helped me clear out most of my shit this morning. I’m not going back home anytime soon. I wasn’t going to anyway, right? Fuck, I can’t stand this.”

“We just tore our families apart. My mom,” I whisper, “she figured out what I was hiding and where to find it. While Dad was on the plane, she went to the paper, searched my desktop, and found the emails. She read them all, and when we got home . . . it was bad.”

Silence lingers before a low, “Fuck.”

“I was so wrong, Easton,” I manage to keep the shake out of my voice. “She knew about our parents, about Stella, and never once resented her until I dragged her into their past. This could harm my parents’ marriage. Maybe it already has.”

“I get they have a right to be upset, but they’re just as in the wrong as we are, with the way they’re reacting. What the hell are we supposed to do?”

“Find someone else to fall in love, marry, and have children with.”

“That’s your solution?” His tone is biting.

“I have your ring on my finger.” I lift the black band into my line of sight, loving the weight of it, its significance—and the memory of his expression when he slipped it onto my finger fills me with warmth. “It means more now than it did when you put it there. I can’t stop staring at it. It was the happiest moment of my life.”

“We’ll have more.”

“I know,” I do my best to control my involuntary hiccup and fail. A second later, he requests FaceTime.

“Easton—”

“Answer,” he snaps. “Answer right now . I need to see you.”

I accept the request, and Easton appears, the sight of him like a lightning strike to the chest. Was it only a little over twenty-four hours ago we left each other? It feels like an eternity already. Looking as distraught as I feel, hair in utter disarray, he runs his bloodshot gaze along my face. His expression pained, his eyes linger on my raw cheeks before they close. “Fuck this, fuck all of this, I’m coming to you.”

“No,” I shake my head. “Easton, you know you can’t.”

“Don’t say that to me,” he warns.

I slide my finger down the outline of his profile, his eyes boring into mine through the screen.

“We need to give them some time. I haven’t had a moment of peace or a chance to breathe since we touched down. Holly, Damon, and the rest of my circle are impatiently lining up to take a crack at me. I’ve got a lot of damage control to start.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” I manage a small smile. “I married an up-and-coming rock legend. I hope you know it will only get crazier from here.”

“Beauty,” he rasps softly as I heartily drink in every detail of his face.

“We can do this, Easton, for them. With the way we deceived them, especially me, we owe it to them to give them some time to accept us. In the meantime, you have an entire globe to entertain, and I have obligations here. Our plans don’t have to change.”

“I can come to you between gigs. They don’t have to know.”

“Sneaking around is what got us into this mess. If we’re going to try and repair this, we have to stop deceiving everyone we love. It’s the only way it will work.”

“So, we don’t see each other? No. Fuck no.”

“My future at the paper depends on mending my relationship with him. Running off and doing the same thing that damaged it won’t help. You’re going to have to trust me, too.”

He searches my eyes and seems somewhat satisfied. “Fine. But this can’t last long. We aren’t their decision, baby. Do you hear me? The state of our marriage is not a decision they get to weigh in on. We can’t let that happen.”

“I know that,” I agree, “and we made our decision. They just need time to learn to live with it. We have to be patient.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but pauses, instead running a hand over his jaw. “Are we being that selfish, Beauty? Or are they?”

“I think we all are, but they’re reeling because we blindsided them. First with the fact we exist at all, and then by eloping.”

“Doesn’t give them the right to . . . God damnit!” He roars and begins to pace.

“You have to keep your head, Easton. We both do.”

“I know,” he nods, his exhale ragged. “I’m just . . . I’m fucking . . .” He stops pacing and looks pointedly at me. “Don’t say goodbye to me, Natalie.”

“I think the whole point of this conundrum is that I can’t, husband.” I lift my finger, and it earns me the slight lift of his lips before he drops his jade gaze and runs his hand through his thick hair again. A knock sounds on the other end of the line before a male voice breaks through, words muffled.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I have to get on stage.”

“Shit. Please try to have a good show and not worry so much. The bomb went off, and even through the smoke, I can still see you, Easton. I can still feel you.”

“Fuck, I love you.” His tone drops heatedly with his next words. “All I want right now is to be back in that bed, pushing inside my filthy little wife, and making her come.”

I close my eyes and physically feel the fullness of him inside of me just before it’s replaced with ache. “I want that too, so much.”

“I’ll deliver on that, but Beauty,” he eyes me warily, dread setting in with his abrupt change in tone. “They want to add a few more dates to the end of the tour. That will have us booked through most of fall.”

“I’m not surprised in the least,” I say truthfully. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to play.”

“Then get to work, rock star .”

“I want my wife more.”

“You can have both. The plan stays the same,” I reiterate. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m behind you all the way. I’m with you on this.”

Soft eyes caress me as relief covers the rest of his features. “I needed this before I could go out there. I needed you. Answer my fucking calls, especially when it’s important like this, okay? I get that you can’t sometimes, but don’t pull that shit again, Natalie, or I will come to you.”

“ Bet ?” I manage another smile.

“This is serious.”

“I’m aware, and I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“I love you, Natalie Crowne,” he rasps softly as I close my eyes before he ends the call.