Chapter 37
Tai
Germany becomes Amsterdam, then Paris, and we’re at the stage of the tour where exhaustion sets in, homesickness takes over, and we long for a break from the spotlight.
Since the incident in Hamburg, we’ve had a few more tense run-ins with paparazzi and fans. Connor’s growing paranoia of crowded spaces means we’re spending more time in our hotels, ordering food instead of dining out, and searching for entertainment options that allow us to keep a low profile.
We understand his caution, because that night was a wake-up call to the harsh reality that being public figures comes with inherent risks.
Still, part of me is disappointed as we travel through these vibrant, historic cities while only being able to watch through a window.
While we’ve taken some drives and done some sightseeing, we make it a point to avoid crowded areas.
We’re on the plane again, taking the brief flight from Paris to London, when Eric comes over and drops into the seat across from me. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Sorry, but no, I won’t swap with you. Dmitri doesn’t do it for me, and I don’t share.” Dmitri lifts his hand to flip me off.
“No?” Eric asks, glancing back at his husband. “What is it about him you don’t like? Is it the thick hair that makes great handlebars? The stomach muscles that are ribbed for his pleasure? The tattoos that look amazing slathered in jizz? Or the giant dick—”
Dmitri sighs in a sound that’s long, drawn-out, and filled with disappointment.
“Fucking hell, Eric,” I groan. “Did you come over here to gush about your crush on your husband, or was there a purpose?”
“Right, my proposition,” he says, turning serious. “So, I know you’d been working on writing songs when, er…” His eyes dart to Connor. “When you were upset.”
Connor looks so damn sad that I climb into his lap for a hug. “What about it?” I ask as I run my fingers through his hair.
“How would you feel about performing one of those songs at our finale concert in Charlotte?” Eric asks.
I frown. “You want to perform one of my songs?”
“No,” he corrects, shaking his head. “I was hoping you would perform one of your songs. You have so much fucking talent, man, and you’re always in the background. You deserve recognition.”
“I’m happy in the background,” I tell him truthfully.
“I know that, and I’m not pushing you to do anything you don’t want to do. Just consider it, okay? I don’t want there to be any animosity between us about me performing my songs when you’ve got these hidden gems.”
“Are you doing this because you still feel guilty?” I ask, only halfway teasing.
Eric sighs, his tongue rolling over his teeth like it does when he’s thinking hard. “That might be part of it.”
“I’m over it.”
“Maybe I’m not,” he retorts with a shrug.
“I’m difficult to deal with, Tai. I’m impulsive, messy, and in my head more often than not.
My actions don’t always make sense, even to me, but you have always been there for me, without fail.
You’ve slapped reason into me when I need it—literally now—and you’ve never abandoned me, even when I deserved it. ”
The torn look on his face splits me wide open. I squeeze Connor’s arm as I slide off his lap and sit next to Eric. “Don’t start getting mushy on me, pretty boy,” I tease softly. “You never deserved to be abandoned. That’s your old insecurity talking.”
“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles, and I don’t miss how Dmitri reaches back to squeeze his shoulder.
Eric takes a deep breath, then lifts his head again, meeting Connor’s gaze. “I know I’ve said it before, and it changes nothing, but I am sorry that I got between the two of you. I see how good you are together. Tai’s just… special, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Connor agrees.
“My threat still stands,” Eric warns. “Hurt him, and I’ll come at you.”
“That’s not a great threat,” Theo chimes in. “He’s a lot bigger than you.”
“I can be meaner, even if I’m little,” Eric retorts.
“Little, he says,” Theo mutters.
Eric scoffs, gesturing at Connor. “I meant compared to him.” His brows furrow as he glances down at himself. “What exactly are you saying, Theo? It’s not… I mean… Babe!? Have I gained weight?”
Dmitri fights to hide his smile. “You know I love your belly.”
Eric’s hand falls to his stomach as he gasps. “That wasn’t an answer—you sidestepped my question!”
Dmitri stands and scoops Eric into a bridal carry like he weighs nothing. “Am I going to have to show you again how much I love that teeny belly?” he asks.
“Only if you’re on your knees while you do it,” Eric rasps. Everyone else collectively groans as Dmitri marches away with Eric. Once those two get started, we need earplugs and a blindfold to escape.
Connor grins, watching them go. “I take it there’s a story behind that?”
“Yeah, but don’t ask them or you’ll regret it. Those two don’t know the meaning of personal boundaries, and Eric’s a world record holder for over-sharing.”
“So, about what he was saying,” he nudges. “You wrote some songs?”
I wave him off with a burn on my cheeks. “I played around, but it was nothing serious. Just a way to release some stupid emotions.”
“Tai,” he says with a rare authority in his voice. “What is rule number one?”
I roll my eyes, making sure he can see. “No lies.”
He nods. “Let me ask again. You wrote songs?”
“A few,” I answer, more truthfully this time. “Without the intention of doing anything with them, though. They really were an emotional release—that part was true.”
“You should think about Eric’s offer.”
Panic reaches for me even as I consider it. Those are my thoughts—my innermost feelings. The thought of putting them out there for the world to witness and criticize is terrifying.
A strong hand lands on my nape and tugs me forward. “Breathe, sweetheart,” Connor murmurs as he tucks me into his neck. “I’d never ask you to do something you don’t want to do. I’m sorry if that was too pushy. Forget I said anything, okay?”
“Sometimes I need a push,” I admit. “I’ll think about it.”
London is appropriately rainy, a faint drizzle speckling our skin as grayscale clouds paint the sky in a depressing charcoal sketch. It doesn’t detract from the crowds, though, as we make our way through the packed, busy streets, driving toward our latest hotel.
Like with the other places we’ve passed through, our faces are plastered against the windows, sightseeing and people-watching as we roll through the city.
Homesickness is taking its toll on us, the exhaustion from being on the road mixing with the constant shift between unfamiliar beds and foreign noises.
I don’t talk much as we check in to the hotel and make our way to our room. I curl up on the bed and try to read, but the words blur into fuzzy lines in front of me. With a sigh, I roll over and stare out the window, watching the raindrops paint streaks on the glass.
The mattress sinks as Connor settles behind me, curling against my back and throwing an arm around my waist. “Where’s that beautiful head?”
“In the clouds.”
He hugs me tighter and kisses the spot where my spine meets the base of my neck. “You’re tired.”
“I am,” I agree. “You’d think I would remember how much touring takes out of you, but it surprises me every time. The adrenaline and excitement at the start makes you forget just how out of place you feel.”
“How so?”
“There’s nothing familiar to ground me. At home, when I get into a weird mood I can go to the studio and play my piano, or head to my favorite overlook and watch the sunset.
I can read a book in my own bed that doesn’t stink like lavender disinfectant, or cook dinner, or do something other than think about the next show.
” I roll over and tuck my face into his neck.
“I’m just exhausted. The tank is running on empty. ”
“We’re almost done, sweetheart,” he says as his fingers trace my spine.
“It feels awful to complain about all this.”
“Why?”
“For my entire musical career, this piece of me has been unsatisfied, and it makes me feel…” I trail off, shaking my head.
He gives me a gentle shake. “Feel what?”
“Ungrateful,” I admit. “Like I’ll never be happy, or maybe I don’t deserve to be.”
“That’s not true,” he argues.
“Look at everything I’ve got, Connor. Fame and money, private jets and international tours filled with screaming fans. All of this, and I just want to be at home in my bed.”
“You’re allowed to be burned out,” he says gently.
“Doesn’t feel that way.”
“Stop trying to be cool, Tai. You told me how much you hate it, so let yourself be messy. Be irritated and irrational for once, and fuck what anyone else says about it. We’re close to the end. One more show and then we’ll be on that jet flying home.”
We both fall silent as my eyelids get heavy, soaking in the woodsy smell of his skin as he holds me against him. “You are my home,” I murmur.
He plants a soft kiss on my hair. “You’re mine, too.”