8. Mateo
MATEO
I’ve been going over the logistics in my head for the last two days, and I’ve come to the same conclusion every single time.
I’m going to fuck this up.
Talking it all out with Eddie, Theo, and Silas has cleared up some things when it comes to having Crew on tour with me, but the only solution to the problems that keep coming up would be cloning me so I can be on stage and with him at the same time.
Luckily, my tour bus is more than big enough to account for my son and everything I’ll need to make sure he’s comfortable, and I’ve talked to our manager to ensure our hotels and other stops are as kid-friendly as possible.
What we can’t figure out is how the hell I’m going to get Crew to bed at a reasonable hour when our call time is when he needs to be winding down for the day.
I can’t be at the hotel, on the bus, and in soundcheck at the same time.
And the same goes for everyone on tour with me.
“What about a Pack ‘n Play in the greenroom?” Silas asks, trying to help. With no kids himself, he’s the uncle of all of ours and has been trying to help, but his suggestions aren’t always helpful.
The four of us are gathered in the living area, brainstorming final details as we drive to Atlanta, mere hours away from meeting Crew, Talia, and her husband at our hotel for the night.
“He’s too big for a Pack ‘n Play,” I answer, rubbing my forehead with my thumb and forefinger, leaning my head back against the wall of my tour bus.
“And I can’t leave him alone.” I try to settle the frustration I feel building, especially since we’ve been down a similar road before, all agreeing that there wouldn’t be anyone to check on him and it would probably be too loud for him to sleep anyway.
Not to mention I wouldn’t be able to focus on stage, and it ultimately wouldn't be a reasonable solution for anyone.
“And there isn’t anyone who can come on tour with him?” Theo asks again.
I shake my head, not even voicing the thoughts in my head because I’m sick of repeating myself.
Mia has kids of her own, and having three kids under the age of five on the tour bus, in addition to my sister, isn’t an option.
Crew doesn’t have any other blood-related aunts or uncles since Talia is an only child, and all of my friends either have jobs or kids and can’t just drop everything to live on a tour bus for the next eight months—or they’re already on the fucking tour.
I don’t have parents who could come, and neither does Talia.
Both of us losing our parents young was something that connected us when we first got together, and I didn’t think twice about Crew not having grandparents until now—wishing I had a bigger village for my son.
“Mia did say Crew was welcome at our house,” Eddie offers carefully. “The girls would love having him around,” he adds with a small smile from where he sits across from me.
He’s brought it up as an option before, and maybe it’s the best one.
But I hate the thought of not seeing Crew for weeks at a time.
Mia and Eddie don’t have the same arrangement that Talia and I had, agreeing that her traveling with the twins would be too much. And she has a huge village back at home. So, instead, Eddie travels home when he can to see his daughters.
I let out a sigh, but it comes out more like a groan. “Maybe you’re right.”
I could have Crew here for the weekend, since we’re in Atlanta for two nights instead of one—an extra day to account for back-to-back travel days once we’re done here and start heading to Missouri.
Then I can fly back to Milwaukee with him and make sure he’s settled at Mia’s before catching a red-eye to be back in time for our St. Louis show.
Eddie, Theo, and Silas talk amongst themselves, going over scenarios and ideas that we’ve already been over, but I still appreciate it. It means a lot that they’re trying to help me make this work.
Having my son on tour with me is a dream.
Getting to see him right before I go on stage, looking into the curtain during a song to see him watching me, running straight for him once our encore is finished and we say goodnight to the crowd.
This farewell tour has already fucked me up in ways I don’t quite yet understand, having to say goodbye to this phase of my life and not quite sure who I’ll be without it.
While being Crew’s dad is my life’s greatest accomplishment, being the lead singer of Cross My Heart gave me the strength and confidence to be his dad.
It’s been my life for almost twenty years, the one thing I did for myself after my parents died and I became responsible for not only myself but my eight-year-old sister.
But the more and more I try to come up with ways to make it work, the more impossible it feels.
“I’m going to call Mia,” I announce, interjecting into the conversation, before standing up and heading to my bedroom.
These tour buses are insane compared to the ones we used to travel on, when we were just starting out. They’re so big, you sometimes forget that you’re on the road.
Closing the door behind me, I pull my phone from my pocket, but before I can click on Mia’s contact, an unknown number pops up on my screen—an incoming call.
“Hello?”
“Hi, I heard you’re looking for a nanny?”
I pull the phone from my ear, just to make sure I’m not imagining things. I blink my eyes a few times, momentarily convinced that I’m hallucinating.
“Are you there?” the voice asks, distant from where I hold the phone in front of me.
I look around my bedroom, as if I’ll spot hidden cameras like I’m on some stupid prank show, moments away from someone popping out of my closet and laughing at me for falling for it.
“Hello?” the voice says, and I bring my phone back to my ear.
“Who is this?” I ask, my brows furrowing. I don’t know if I’m upset or just confused, but it has my voice coming out much harder than I thought possible.
“My name is Emerson. I’m friends with Liam. He said you need a nanny, and I’m available.”
Her voice is velvety smooth and direct as hell, like she’s not interested in what I have to say unless I’m agreeing with her.
“Well, Emerson,” I start, my voice almost stuttering over her name.
The confidence she exudes, even over the phone, is intimidating, and if my interaction with that woman at Lenny’s a few days ago is any indication of how I do with a confident woman, I know this isn’t going to bode well for me.
“I appreciate the offer,” as invasive as it is, I think to myself.
“But I don’t need a nanny.” I clear my throat, feeling how close my voice is to cracking.
“Thank you, though,” I add sheepishly, feeling my ears heat and my chest go red.
I pull the phone from my ear, ready to hang up when I stop. “I think you do,” she retorts.
She says it so assertively, it has me scared and turned on at the same time.
I shake my head at the thought, instantly embarrassed that my mind even went there.
“Liam mentioned that your son will be joining you at your next tour stop, and I’d be happy to join you then too,” she continues.
“I have a ton of experience with kids, and I can cover the cost of my own travel and accommodations. I’m also flexible when it comes to payment, and I need—” she pauses, like she’s cutting herself off.
I don’t say anything, but I find myself holding my breath as I wait for her to finish her sentence.
This woman is a stranger.
A complete stranger.
Yet, at the same time, she might be exactly who I need.
I hear the way she inhales sharply before exhaling. “I’d be happy to come meet your son and see if we’re a good fit. If we are, great. If not, that’s okay too. No pressure. I just want to help.”
For some reason, I don’t think that was what she was planning on saying, but I push the thought away—I have no business having it.
“So,” she says, and that’s when I realize it’s been more than a few seconds of her waiting for me to say something. “What do you say?”
I should tell her no.
Hang up and call Mia.
But then I think of what this woman—Emerson—said.
No pressure.
I just want to help.
I twist the ring on my middle finger with my thumb, rolling my lips together as if I could stop the words on the tip of my tongue even if I wanted to.
“How soon can you get to Atlanta?”