“Well, Charlotte was saying how there are a lot of different ‘guy friends’ who come around.”
“No!”
“Yep. Let me tell you, Bianca wanted to crawl under a rock.”
Ryan sat up on the edge of the bed and faced him. “Marcus, cut to the chase. You seem happy, but what happened? Was an agreement reached?”
“Joint custody!” Marcus still couldn’t believe it.
“Straight up the middle?”
“Yep. Half and half.”
“Awesome!”
It would take them a while to figure out the details. Would this mean that Marcus would have to move back to Los Angeles, so that the kids’ school wouldn’t be interrupted? Or would he be able to figure out a way to have the kids go to school in Montana? “I don’t know how the specifics will pan out, exactly,” he told Ryan. “But this turned out so much better than I ever could have planned it, in my wildest dreams.”
“That’s great, Marcus, really.”
He reached forward and brushed Ryan’s hair behind her ear, then traced his finger gently along her cheek. “Thank you, Ryan. Thank you so much.”
“Thank me? For what? I’m the one who got you into all this trouble.”
“No. If not for you—the way you are with the kids, the way you are with me—I don’t think I’d ever have had the courage to fight for them.”
“Marcus…”
He kissed her once, rubbed her nose with his. “It’s like you showed me that I could be happy, and that I could be the kind of dad who could make them happy, too.”
Ryan kissed him back. “I don’t know what to say. I’m just so happy for you.”
“You know what’s really great, though?” He grabbed her by the waist and clasped his hands behind her back, gazing into her eyes.
“No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
Marcus laughed. “Don’t you see? We don’t have to hide anymore. We’ve seen the worst of what Bianca can do to us, and we won.”
“Are you sure? No more sneaking around?”
“And no more secret hand holding.”
“But don’t you think we should keep taking it slow, for the kids’ sake?”
“The kids know we care about each other. They know this is a positive relationship. And they’re crazy about you.”
Marcus walked to the kids’ door, and checked to make sure it was tightly shut. Then, before she could think of any more reasons to be cautious, Marcus swept her up into his arms and kissed her. He’d been thinking of her constantly, fantasizing about taking her to bed ever since he’d walked out of the courtroom. On the plane, he’d imagined all the things he would do to her until he’d broken out in a sweat. After waiting patiently for hours, he wasn’t going to hold back a second longer.
“Yes,” Ryan whispered. She kissed his neck and nibbled lightly on his ear. He laid her on the bed and undressed her slowly, taking his time.
They had nothing but time now.
Marcus woke up after just ten minutes, but he felt rested and totally at peace.
Ryan was propped up on one elbow, running her finger across his chest. “Aahh,” he sighed. “The afterglow…”
“Knock if off,” she said, playfully swatting at him.
Instead, Marcus drew closer to her. But Ryan pulled back, so slightly he barely noticed it.
“Oh, I’m more than all right. It’s just—”
“What?”
Ryan shook her head. “It’s so not a thing, I’m embarrassed to ask.”
“No, please. Tell me.”
She took in a deep breath, and exhaled. “Did you ever hook up with Jacey?” she asked at last.
“Come again?” Marcus sat up abruptly. Ryan had caught him off-guard. Alone with her, in the hazy serenity of the suite, Jacey was the last person on his mind.
“You’re not going to make me repeat it, are you? They’re your words, not mine.”
“God, no.”
“You’re sure about that?” She bit her lip. “If you did, it’s okay. I mean, as long as it was before we met.”
“Ryan, really—never. I mean, she is about as far from my type as you can get.”
“I believe you, I do.” She squeezed his hand tenderly, and he felt so relieved. He could imagine what it would feel like to lose her, how big of a loss it would be. “It’s just…you remember how you asked me to take my hair down for you? Right before we kissed, at the Ranch?”
“Of course, I remember.”
“Well, she said you used the same line on her once.”
Marcus rubbed his chin, trying to remember. Had he said anything like that to Jacey? Alex had pestered him a little over a year ago, asking him to come up to Spokane to catch this hot new singer-songwriter who happened to be the daughter of Alex’s mentor in the music business, Clint Richards. Marcus hadn’t wanted to go––he was in the midst of a terrible depression––but Alex convinced him, telling him that a little road trip would be the best thing for him. When he saw Jacey and her band, that amazing Brady kid on guitar, and a cracker-jack rhythm section, he knew the girl had the potential to be huge. She had a set of lungs on her, an even better set of songs co-written with Brady, and the look and stage presence of a young Shania Twain.
“Oh my God,” he said finally “I remember now. She was wearing her hair in a ponytail on stage, and I told her it looked too controlled, too uptight.”
“That sounds like you.”
“If you’re thinking of our bike lesson, it wasn’t like that at all.”
“How was it, then?”
“She asked me to critique her image––the whole band’s image––so I did. I told her she had a great look, but that she should have her hair down on stage. I suggested that she tone down her fashion sense a little––she was wearing designers, looking super LA. Audiences don’t like performers who look like they’re in total control. They like performers to walk on the wild side a little, to give up a bit of control in service of the show.”
Marcus couldn’t tell whether he’d satisfied her. For an instant, though he knew he probably wasn’t out of the woods yet, he let pride flicker through him. Had he made the imperturbable Ryan Evans lose control, just a little bit? Had he actually made her jealous?
“Okay, so you definitely did not sleep with her, then?” He couldn’t tell—was she doubting him again, or just teasing?
“Did she say that?” he asked.
Ryan hesitated. “She definitely implied it. She said you were with her every night.”
“On tour with her every night, sure. But not in bed. What a little liar she is.”
After a moment, Ryan laughed. “If that tour was anything like Canyon Ranch, she must have been throwing herself at you every five minutes.”
“More like every five seconds.”
“And she’s a good-looking girl.”
“She’s very pretty.” Marcus shrugged. “But she’s not for me.”
“Yeah? And I am, huh?”
Marcus brought her hand to his mouth, and covered it with kisses. Then he said, “I’m going to tell you something now, just so you know what you mean to me.”
He paused for effect. He couldn’t help it. It was the performer in him.
“What?” Ryan said. “Out with it!”
“You’re the first person I’ve…been with, since the divorce.”
“‘Been with’?” She smirked.
“You’re the first person I’ve kissed, made out with, slept with, whatever you want to call it.”
She looked at him like he’d just told her he’d been raised by wolves in a post-apocalyptic future. “Shut up!” she said, slapping his hand.
“Swear on my children.” He smiled, though she was still eyeing him skeptically. He didn’t care if she believed him or not. Eventually, she would realize he was telling the truth. That he always told the truth.
“But you’re a total exhibitionist!”
“And you’re pathologically shy, but who the hell
cares?”
Marcus leaned forward to kiss her, but Ryan held him at bay and yelped in frustration. “I can’t tell what’s real with you and what’s a performance.”
“This isn’t a performance. I haven’t wanted anyone, and I mean anyone, for four years. At first, I thought maybe that time in my life had ended, that my job at this point was just to be the best parent I could. The romanatic part of me just seemed, I don’t know, dead. I would look at a beautiful girl and feel absolutely nothing, no connection. But now I know that this whole time, I was just waiting for you.”
Hearing that must have done something to Ryan, because she went for him this time, pressing her lips against his, running her fingers through his hair as she kissed him passionately. Marcus was so happy she believed him. He would never lie to her, not about this, not about anything.
Ryan swiveled on top of him and straddled him. Marcus peeked beyond her, just to make sure the kids’ door was still closed and locked. Then he looked at Ryan above him, bathed in gentle light from the bedside lamp, her hair falling over her naked shoulders. She was so, so beautiful. “You’re ready again, so soon?” he teased.
“You know what?” She smiled. “I think I am.”
…
Ryan lay in bed for forty-five minutes, staring up at the artfully drapped mosquito netting on the four-poster bed while Marcus lay asleep beside her. In five minutes, I’ll go, she thought. No matter how definitive Marcus’s victory at the hearing had been, she did not want Charlotte or Miles to wake up and find her in their father’s bed. It didn’t matter whether the risks had disappeared or not; for now, Ryan was the children’s nanny. I’m not really “just the nanny” anymore, am I? she thought. Still, the kids should be introduced to the idea after the tour was over, in a more stable environment: home.
She watched Marcus’s smooth, muscular chest rise and fall with each breath, and she thought that if the two of them were living in a bubble, away from the complications of the music world and the media, she would probably fall hopelessly in love with him. They’d never live in a bubble, she knew. But would they ever be able to create a life for themselves? Two days ago, she’d have said it was impossible. He was a rock star, too famous to just disappear into a life of anonymity. He complained about touring and performing, but she could tell he loved at least part of it. And she had goals and dreams of her own that didn’t involve following a man and his children around. Where was the middle ground here?
But being with Marcus and the kids felt so good and so right, and they had just achieved an incredible victory in a situation that had seemed totally hopeless before Marcus had boarded that plane to LA. All of a sudden, this relationship felt like it was meant to be. It felt like she and Marcus could do anything, as long as they made the commitment to stay together. All they had to do was figure out the details. How hard could it be?
At 5:45 a.m., Ryan kissed Marcus on the cheek. He smiled in his sleep and turned toward her. Careful not to wake him, she slipped soundlessly from under the covers, dressed, and went back to her room, wanting him, but knowing that, if she were patient, she’d be back with him soon enough.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Living in the Bubble
At some point during the tour’s nearly week-long stint in Texas, Charlotte and Miles had started counting pro-beef bumper stickers––“Cows are Meat,” “Meat: It’s What’s For Dinner,” “Whatever Happens in Vegans, Stays in Vegans.” Today they would cross the East Texas border of Louisiana, and they were up to eighty-seven.
For the first three weeks after the hearing, the tour, to make up for the interruption the Canyon Ranch visit had caused, zig-zagged wildly across the country. In the second week of August, the crew flew from Kansas City to Portland, Maine, where the bus met them and they began a three-week stint along the entire Eastern seaboard.
Ryan thought more about that phrase, “living in a bubble,” and how accurately it described the touring life. She would forever remember, of course, the magical details that distinguished one landscape from another: the rocky shores and craggy cliffs of Maine, the impossibly lush rolling hills of Vermont, and the moment she and Miles (alone while Charlotte breakfasted with her father) spotted, on Boston’s Charles River, a lone rower powering a pencil-thin scull through water that shone like steel. But these were stolen moments, rare interruptions in a life on the road that was mostly characterized by a dizzying sameness: theaters and stadiums looked identical after a while, and the blueprint of Marcus’s suite––the bed with its frou-frou pillows and unnecessary mosquito netting, the plump blue couch––was exactly the same, no matter the city.
On a lunch break in Silver Spring, Maryland, Ryan and the kids followed Marcus through the aisles of a Target where they’d stopped to buy both of the kids a refresher set of PJs. “It’s just like the one in Kalispell,” Ryan said. “Like, exactly the same.”
“I know, isn’t it great?” said Marcus.
“Is it?” It dawned on her that no one had forced Marcus to stay in the exact same hotel chain with the exact same suite with the exact same furniture at each and every tour stop. Marcus must have wanted it that way.
“My whole life has been filled with changes. I went to six schools in four cities by the time I was nine. I can do change. But I need some things in my life to stay consistent.” He grabbed her hand and smiled before jogging to catch up with the wandering Miles.
Ryan smiled to herself. A rock star who yearns for the comfort of routine? Marcus continued to puzzle her at every turn. But what did his need for sameness mean? Was it a natural response to the unpredictably of life on the road? Or did it mean that somewhere under his rocker’s facade, Marcus Troy wanted, if not to settle down outright, then to adopt a slower, saner life, not just for his kids, but for himself? If they could just figure whether to live in Montana, Michigan, California, or some fourth option that hadn’t presented itself yet, they could make this work, he knew it.
…
Ryan hadn’t spent the night in Marcus’s bed again, not since the night after the hearing. The two of them had agreed that they would at least try to wait until the tour was over, for the kids’ sake. Ryan had voiced her concerns, told Marcus that she didn’t want to confuse Charlotte and Miles, and she’d expected resistance. But Marcus instantly agreed with her. “There’s something pretty fun about the stolen-kisses strategy. I’m thirty-four, remember. Feeling like a teenager again, even with all the restrictions that come with it—well, it’s not so bad. And like we said, ‘All good things…’”
Marcus looked around him, saw that no one on the bus was looking, and gave her a sweet, swoon-worthy kiss.
“‘…come to those who…yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ryan said after emerging from the kiss. The man sure knew how to take her breath away, there was no doubt about it. And their self-imposed abstinence made every kiss, every touch, that much sweeter. Leaning back in her chair, Marcus’s hand on her arm, she pondered the advantages of dating a more mature man who knew how to savor life’s little pleasures.
Still, as September loomed in the not-so-distant future, neither of them brought up what would happen to them at the end of the tour. Only Charlotte, hanging out with Ryan in the back of the bus while her dad conferred with Alex ten rows ahead of them, had had the courage to mention it. It was scary to think that a ten-year-old was more mindful of her future than Ryan herself.
Somewhere between Baltimore and Philadelphia, Ryan had woken from a nap to find Charlotte inches from her face, the little girl’s fierce eyes examining her with the detached interest of a scientist.
“I need to ask you something,” Charlotte said, calm but intent.
“How long have you been sitting here watching me like that?” Ryan smiled, though sometimes Charlotte’s scrutiny did unnerve her.
“A few minutes.” Her eyes continued to wander, from nose to forehead to cheekbones, not quite connecting with Ryan’s. “When the tour is over, are you going to come and live with us?”
&nbs
p; To buy some time, Ryan sat up in her seat and stretched, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. It would be useless to try to talk Charlotte out of this line of inquiry––by now, Ryan knew her well enough to realize that––so she had to think of something fast.
“Well, as far as I know, you guys will be going back to your mom’s.” All she had to do was tell the truth, right? “You have school in September. But you’ll also be spending lots of time with your dad. I’m not sure if they’ve worked out the specifics yet, but I’m sure they will soon.”
“Yeah, but will you go live with Daddy in Bigfork? Will we see you for Thanksgiving?”
Ryan took Charlotte’s hand. “You really like school, right? You have good teachers, and you don’t mind the homework too much?”
Charlotte nodded vigorously.
“Well, I’ll be going to school in the fall, too, in Michigan,” Ryan said. “I’ll be studying how kids learn to read and write.”
Charlotte pouted. “How far,” she asked, “is Michigan from Montana?”
Ryan smiled. The answer was simple. “It’s only a plane ride away.”
Charlotte nodded, grinned, and trotted off, and the ease with which Ryan had satisfied her serious question felt like a revelation. Could she simply continue with her life, do everything she wanted, and continue to see Marcus? But a long-distance relationship—didn’t people say they never worked?
Still, Ryan felt emboldened by the unexpected conversation with Charlotte. She looked behind her, where Marcus and Smitty were sprawled out in the back row, trading guitar licks. Just seeing Marcus filled her heart with joy. Could it really be so simple? The two of them had proved themselves pretty gifted in the patience category. Could they see each other long-distance for the two to three years it would take Ryan to finish her coursework, and then take things from there? Could a rock star handle that?
Could she?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Love of My Life
Marcus knew that it was too soon to be using the word––even if he was only forming it silently in his brain––“co-parenting,” but he couldn’t help it. Before Ryan, he’d never liked the term, which sounded self-help-y and pretentious. But now, he realized he’d probably disliked it because he’d never experienced it. With Ryan at his side, Marcus had begun to see how––he didn’t want to say easy, because these were children, after all, demanding and unpredictable by definition––but how clear-cut and direct and sensible parenting could be. He’d never been a better dad than he’d been in these last few weeks, and he owed it all to Ryan.
Love Songs for the Road Page 17