Chapter 61
ELLIE
“Motherfucker!” I shout, then remember I’m in a coffee shop. I scan the area, and yep, people definitely heard. Oh well.
I can’t believe this.
I stare at the message on my screen, a fucking text message, the hag. Couldn’t even tell me over the phone that she and her husband would not be attending their son’s last concert of his very first headlining tour! And to wait until the day before to tell me. Ugh.
When Travis’s mom finally returned my call last week, I was so hopeful. Then she said she’d have to check her schedule. I nearly shrieked. What schedule? Your backgammon games and solitaire parties. I mean, what do retired people who live in fancy communities near the beach do?
Got a hot date with the sand?
She said it was too much for them to travel so far away. They’re in their sixties, they’re not decrepit. Hugh Hefner was still banging hot chicks in his eighties.
I offered them first-class plane tickets, a hotel suite, and a nice, cushy seat backstage away from the wild crowd. All on my dime because I wanted them here for him. He deserves support from his family. If they only knew everything he’s overcome to get here.
I’m so angry, hot tears line my eyes. Everything’s already lined up. Everyone else has someone coming. Everyone’s already here, hiding away in their hotel rooms.
He’ll act like it doesn’t bother him, but how could it not?
My thumbs fly across my phone as I type out the most passive-aggressive message I’ve ever written to the mother of the man I’m completely obsessed with.
I’ve accepted my feelings and the fact that he may take longer than me to come to terms with it.
If he ever does. He may run like the wind and leave me in the dust. But if there was ever going to be someone to make me reconsider monogamy and love, it was always going to be him. I knew it then, and I know it now.
“Here you go, boys,” I say, stepping onto the bus with my hands full.
Their heads lift from the pizza they’re destroying. I feel like that’s all we’ve eaten for the last two months.
I stop for a moment, taking it all in. They’re sitting around, Penn and Travis on the sofa, Liam and Tanner at the table, all of them chatting—getting along.
This is it. This is the last time I’m going to see this. I take a mental photo, then, because that’s not good enough, I grab my phone quickly before they turn away and snap a picture. They groan, making me laugh.
“I know, I’m awful.” I’ve been photographing literally everything. They hate it, but one day, they’ll thank me. Penn will thank me sooner. I send all my photos to Liv, and she’s already working on a scrapbook. I hold up the dry-cleaning bags I picked up. “Tomorrow’s outfits.”
Another groan. It was my idea, and though they were reluctant at first, eventually they caved. There won’t be a pair of dry panties in the house.
These guys? In suits?
Phew. I’m getting hot just thinking about it.
Once I saw Travis in his suit, I had this brilliant idea for them to wear them for their last show. A little formal goodbye to end their first but definitely not last tour.
My eyes seek out Travis. He’s got Cinnamon on his lap, letting her nibble on his pizza.
“Excuse me?” Everyone’s attention comes to me except him.
He’s in his own world. If I didn’t find it kind of gross, I’d find it sweet.
Ok, what the hell, I still find it cute.
I had no idea he’d be so...nurturing. My ovaries are not equipped to handle it.
There are no babies growing inside of me any time soon, so they need to calm down.
Travis kisses the cat’s head—and there they go acting up again—then finally, he looks up. “What?”
“If you continue to eat that pizza, I’m never speaking to you again.” Tanner stares at him, completely disgusted.
“Promise?” Travis grins, bringing the slice to his mouth.
“Jesus.” Penn sighs, slapping the back of his head, making the pizza fall to the floor.
“Hey!”
“Ok, I have to go now. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” I say, trying not to laugh.
“You’re not eating with us?” Travis asks.
I keep my back to him as I answer, “No, I’m exhausted.” I exit the bus as my phone starts ringing, and I consider letting it go. It’s probably Travis, but when I slide it out, I see the name and rush to answer.
Terrible parents is how I saved Travis’s parents’ number in my phone. I hadn’t expected a response at all after my message earlier.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Williams?” Travis’s dad’s voice is clipped. Shit, Mom called in the big guns on me.
I smile to myself, ready to unleash my wrath. Bring it on, Daddy Beckett.