Chapter 11
Tate
Something changes in her demeanor as soon as I mention leaving for Europe.
Probably because any hope we had of seeing each other again pretty much went out the window.
Granted, it’s only the end of June so there’s still plenty of time for me to get her out to a show, but what’s the point?
It’s pretty clear we both have responsibilities that will keep us apart no matter what we want.
“Europe sounds amazing,” she says quietly. “I spent a semester abroad my senior year of college. In Edinburgh. I think that was the best four months of my life.”
“I’ll bet it was incredible.”
She nods. “It was amazing. The city, the classes, the people… Patrick and I hoped to go back together at some point but that didn’t happen since Mom got her diagnosis right after we graduated.”
“Is Patrick an ex?”
“Yeah.” She wrinkles her nose. “My college boyfriend. We were serious, like talking about moving to Philadelphia together and getting engaged serious. So, he was the big one who broke my heart, saying that he didn’t sign on to be a caregiver at twenty-two.
In retrospect, I can’t blame him. It hurt at the time, but it’s been six years.
I’m over it now, but it’s happened more than once since then. ”
“Well, it was his loss. Not only are you a great catch, but your mom is amazing. It’s not her fault she has that awful disease.”
“I know. That’s the part I don’t understand.
But he got a job in Philadelphia. The plan was for me to go with him, but I couldn’t take Mom out of state.
And back then, she wasn’t sick enough to be put in a nursing home, so how could I leave her?
If we moved, I’d have to work, and who would watch out for her?
At least here we have neighbors to check in on her.
Anyway, let’s not talk about that. It’s depressing. ”
“I’m sorry, honey.” I reach across the table and lay my hand on hers.
“Not your fault.” She smiles, and I’m reminded again of how pretty she is. How sweet. How good the last thirty-six hours have been.
If only there was a universe where we could make it last even a little bit longer.
But I have to get to Montreal, and she’s needed here.
No one ever said adulting was a walk in the park.
“What will your day be like tomorrow?” she asks as we eat.
“Well, if there are no delays, I’ll get to Montreal in time to check into the hotel and change.
We’ll probably have an early dinner and then head to the venue for soundcheck.
I don’t have my schedule in front of me, but I think we go on at nine, so we usually hang at the club until it’s time to play because it’s a hassle going back and forth to the hotel. ”
“How long do you play?”
“Our set is ten songs, and we space them out a little with some banter, a few solos, to make the show about ninety minutes.”
“Is that short?”
“It’s actually long for us because we only had an hour when we were opening for Karnal Death.”
“Do you rehearse so that you know exactly how long everything takes?”
“Yeah. We have the set down now, so we can play it by ear if we want to switch things up.”
We talk about music and touring, and she tells me funny stories about working in the diner.
We’re up half the night talking, baking, sneaking samples of the pies, and then making love.
So much that I’m actually a little worn out, but I can’t get enough of her and I’m sure she feels the same way, so leaving is going to suck more than I thought it would.
It’s possible to make it work long distance but it wouldn’t be easy. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
And it will be exponentially harder for us because of her situation with her mom.
Angus and Ryleigh spend time apart because she flies back and forth, but she runs a music magazine so she can do that from wherever.
She spends a lot of time with us, depending on how she’s feeling.
With the club tour, she’s been spending more time at their house in Minneapolis because traveling on the bus is a pain in the ass.
Still, Angus is a closet billionaire, so they can do anything they want.
Mick and Taryn only recently got engaged and she’s an up-and-coming model, so she’s away working a lot. She hasn’t joined us since we started the club tour because she has a son who’s been sick, but he’s getting better, so she’s coming next week and will probably stay a while.
Sam’s girlfriend, Kirsten, is in college in New York, but this is summer.
She’s visiting her family right now but planning to join us in the next couple of weeks for a month or so, and I don’t know what their plans are going forward.
But they weathered her freshman year of college without any issues that I know of, so long distance relationships can work.
Despite how great this break has been, I love my life so I don’t know if I’m ready to get serious with someone.
I just wish I hadn’t met someone as amazing as Summer at this stage of my life and career. She deserves a man who can dote on her, support her, and make her life better. Not a guy who’s off on tour, partying every night, and living his best life without her.
That wouldn’t be fair.
To either of us.
I wrap an arm around her as we stand in the foyer waiting for the car service to arrive the next morning.
“Call me, let me know how you’re doing,” I say softly.
“I will.” She nestles against my chest, warm and safe, like she belongs there.
Fuck, this is ridiculously hard.
I stroke her back and press light kisses on the top of her head. I’d give almost anything to not have to let go, but I see the big black Escalade pulling up to the curb so I don’t have a choice.
“I’m sor—” I start to say, but she quickly puts a finger on my lips.
“Don’t do that. We knew it was just two stolen days together. I’m a grown woman. I’ll be fine.”
“I know. I just wish…” I don’t finish my thought because there’s no point.
“Just let me know what the guys think of the pies, okay?” She smiles brightly. “I want to hear everything.”
I chuckle. “Should I give them your number? Because they’re going to love them.”
“SummersSweetsNY is my hashtag on social media. If they tag me it helps me get more business.”
“Will do.” I kiss her, one last time, our mouths moving together hungrily, and then, regretfully, I pull away.
Our eyes lock and I see the longing in hers.
I’m sure it’s reflected right back at her in mine.
“Safe travels,” she whispers when the driver comes up the walk.
I put a hand on the side of her face, staring down at this beautiful woman whom I would have made mine under any other circumstances.
“Be well, honey.” I wink, grab my duffel, and turn to the driver.
“Ready to go, Mr. Jeffries?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He takes my duffel, and I force myself not to look back as I climb into the big SUV.
But my heart isn’t having it, and I turn my head at the last minute—one final glimpse of the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.
Standing in the doorway of her house, one hand on her heart.
And without meaning to, I roll down the window and mimic the motion.
Then we pull down the street, and she disappears from view.
Fuck.
I honestly didn’t expect leaving to be quite this hard.