Chapter 31
Tate
The crowd in Edinburgh is electric. We’re playing outdoors at Edinburgh Castle and everything about this gig is special.
Having a view of a historical castle that’s been around since the eleventh century is pretty damn cool, and I’m reminded of how lucky I am to be able to do it.
Sasha planned a private tour for all of us earlier today, and it’s up there with one of my favorite things I’ve ever done on tour.
We all grimaced a little when the guide showed us the room where Mary, Queen of Scots, gave birth—especially Summer.
But it really was a good time. And these fans are great.
They started cheering before we went on and haven’t stopped.
Looking into the crowd, I can see them singing the words to “Living on the Edge” and “Rough Around the Edges.”
They even know “Touch You,” the song Mick wrote for Taryn, that isn’t on the album. It was released last month as a single and people are digging it. Everything about this gig is magical, and looking over to see Summer, Ryleigh, and Taryn dancing in the wings is pretty fucking amazing.
I whip my guitar around my neck and then move closer to the edge of the stage, pausing to flick my pick at someone in the front.
She's got the lips, baby grinds and dips
But all I see is the sway of her hips.
She’s not mine, but my baby’s so fine
And I’m ready to sign that dotted line.
Let me touch you, baby, let me hear you sigh
Let me touch you, pretty girl, I’ll never make you cry.
Let me touch you, baby, take you for a ride
I’m always gonna touch you, baby, no one’s gonna hide.
There’s something about your eyes, they never tell me lies,
Your body makes me cry, our love is never gonna die.
It’s a taste of heaven when we kiss, closest thing to bliss,
I’m not a patient man, but you know we’re doing this.
Oh, yeah. This is where the magic happens and I don’t know how I would ever do anything else. We work hard, the travel can be a slog, and sometimes we make big sacrifices by being away from home so much, but the reward is off the charts.
I just hope Summer understands this part of me.
When we met over the summer, we were in a transition phase, playing small venues to keep the momentum going on our album, so she hasn’t seen this part of us yet.
The part that plays to huge crowds and gets called back for multiple encores.
The part that sells tens of thousands of dollars in merchandise and potentially has to order more because—according to Sasha—we’re running out of the popular sizes of T-shirts. And the signed CD covers are gone.
“Yeah, baby!” We run off stage after the second encore and I grab a towel from Graham.
The audience is still cheering, and the backstage area is packed. Friends, family, and local industry executives are all here, looking to say hello, get a picture, do a quick interview. I run to Summer first, pressing my lips to hers.
“Have a good time?”
“It was incredible,” she breathes, her eyes shining. “This was your best show ever!”
I chuckle, putting my arm around her waist and pulling her with me toward the dressing room.
“Thank you.”
“Would it be okay if we hang out to watch Nobody’s Fool?” she asks.
“Oh, I see how you are, Ms. I-love-Waylon-Jennings.” I smirk at her. “You don’t like rock music but you’ll stay for the headliners.”
“I don’t like most rock music,” she corrects primly, “but yours is growing on me and we should support our friends, right?”
“Absolutely.” I grab a bottle of water from the hospitality table and guzzle it down.
“Hi, Tate.”
A woman appears out of nowhere—how the hell did she get back here?—and sashays up to me in a dress so tiny it leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination. I glance up at her face and manage to stop myself from groaning aloud.
I remember her from the tour last spring.
Shit.
We hooked up in New York. Twice.
“Hey, Sherry.”
I need to be nice.
“Hey, baby. You looked good out there.”
“Thank you.”
Be nice-be nice-be nice.
“Sherry, this is my wife, Summer. Honey, this is Sherry.”
“Nice to meet you.” Summer’s voice is clipped. As if she knows exactly who Sherry is to me.
Jesus.
But it only gets worse from there.
Sherry arches one brow, as if she’s amused by the discovery that I’m married, and gives Summer a slow, assessing once over, stopping abruptly when she gets to her baby bump.
“Oh.” She has the audacity to laugh. “I read about it, but I thought it was a PR gimmick. Now I understand.”
“I don’t think you do,” I say quietly.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. See you around. Summer.” She saunters off toward Jonny, and I mentally brace myself.
I knew there was a possibility that stuff like this would happen, I just hate that it had to happen now. On a night that’s been so awesome so far.
“Sorry,” I whisper to Summer.
She shrugs. “It’s fine. I imagine there are a lot of Sherrys out there on tour.”
I can’t deny it.
“There were a lot of women before you,” I say gently. “I’m sorry if that hurts you, but when I told you there’s been no one since we met, that was the truth. I never stopped thinking about you after I left New York the first time. Wishing you’d agreed to fly out and see me or whatever.”
“I thought about you a lot too,” she admits. “And I wished we’d agreed to that too. I just didn’t think we had a chance…well, I didn’t think I had a chance.”
“We had a connection from the start,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers. “Deep down, I knew I was going to see you again. I didn’t know when or how, but I knew it wasn’t completely over. I think that’s why I couldn’t sleep with anyone else.”
Her eyes flutter closed and she leans against me. “I think I knew it too.”
* * *
All the travel and sightseeing seems to have caught up to Summer, and she’s asleep before I’m even done in the bathroom.
So I take a few minutes to enjoy the view and appreciate how peaceful she looks in her sleep.
How relaxed. Her hair is sprawled over the pillow in soft waves, and she’s curled up with the blanket.
I strip down to my boxers and get into bed. I nestle in behind her since she’s on her side, and she immediately wiggles her butt until her body is flush with mine. But then she’s fast asleep, softly snoring, and I’m not going to wake her no matter how much my dick wants me to.
She’s growing a whole life inside her—she needs her rest. I’m just glad she’s here with me for another five days.
It won’t be enough, nothing ever is, but at least we’re together.
Having fun, both alone and with our friends.
I hope she considers them her friends too.
She and Ryleigh seem to be bonding, which is nice because I want her to become as integrated into my life as I am with hers.
And I only have five days left to convince her that this could be her life too.
Our life. Even with a baby. She just has to be comfortable with it.
And understand that there are going to be a lot more Sherrys out there.
It won’t be easy for her to run into women I’ve slept with but she has a past too.
There’s just a much lower chance that I’ll run into anyone she’s been with.
Touring with a kid won’t be easy either, but once we’re past the infant stage, it’s doable.
We could wrangle a toddler, right? Lexi, the lead singer of Nobody’s Fool, just had a baby in December.
This three-month European tour is literally a test to find out if touring with a baby is possible, and so far, it seems to be going well.
She brought a nanny, of course, something Summer and I can’t afford yet, but we’re getting there.
Maybe I can arrange for the three of us to talk.
Beyond that, I think it’s going to boil down to how much of her life Summer wants to give up so we can be together as much as possible.
Because now that I have her, I don’t want to let her go.
But I also don’t want her to give up her dreams. The problem is that I don’t know what they are.
If she could do anything, would she go back to photography?
Focus on her baking? Open a bakery? Or would she be happy as a stay-at-home mom?
I don’t know the answers to any of those questions but it feels like I should.
Anyone you ask will say communication is key in any relationship, and I think Summer and I have been walking on eggshells a bit.
Not with everything, but certainly when it comes to conversations about the future.
We’ve been so focused on her pregnancy, finding our way as not just a couple but as a married couple, and getting through the European tour, we haven’t talked about what’s next.
This is the honeymoon period, both literally and figuratively, and while I don’t want to mess that up, I don’t want to have a potentially uncomfortable conversation over the phone or text. We have to at least start considering our options now, while we’re together.
And there are only five days left in which to do it.