Page 64 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

“Yes,” Gavin agrees, raising one eyebrow.

We all look at each other.

“So, we live in New York and she lives in California,” I say, explaining it to him like he’s five. God, just saying it feels like a knife to my gut.

“We’re on tour like ten months of every year,” Cash adds in.

“And we can’t just share a girlfriend publicly,” Slate finally says. “That’s… no one does that. It’s madness.”

Gavin’s standing up, arms crossed over his chest. He looks at each of us in turn with such confusion that I start to wonder if I’ve grown another head.

“Is that all that’s wrong?” he asks. “You’re all upset about logistics?”

Cash snorts.

“Yeah, we’re morons because we’re probably never going to see the girl we love again after Saturday,” he says. “God, what dumbasses we are.”

“I’m inclined to agree since you’re all acting as if you’ve never heard of air travel before,” Gavin says, putting the lid on the Trivial Pursuit box.

“I don’t want to see her sometimes, on weekends,” Cash goes on.

“It can’t work,” I agree quietly. “Long distance never does, no matter how many times we get on plane.”

“And we’re going on tour,” Slate interjects. He’s just staring off into space. “We all know tour is shit for relationships.”

Something twists in my chest at Slate’s face. The poor guy knows all about how going on tour is hell on relationships.

Gavin sighs and sits down on one of the leather sofas, perching on the edge, his elbows on his knees, his hands steepled.

“You’re all being absolute drama queens about this,” he starts.

“Fuck off,” I say. “You’re not upset at going from seeing her every day to hardly ever seeing her?”

“Of course I’m upset,” Gavin snaps back. “But I’d also rather figure out a solution than wallow in my own misery like pig in muck.”

“I’m not wallowing—”

“What’s your great solution, then?” Cash asks, cutting me off.

Gavin spreads his hands.

“It’s just logistics,” he says. “It’s quite a lot of logistics but it’s just that. People and things can move. We can get into airplanes and visit her. Hell, I’ve even heard they have recording studios in California, is there a real reason not to do the new album there?”

Slate and I lock eyes. He blinks once, like he’d never thought of that.

“Alan,” he says, naming our producer.

“Alan’s got no children and is recovering from quite a bad divorce,” Gavin points out. “He might well enjoy getting away from New York for a while. Or, I don’t know, maybe Larkin would like to stay in New York with us. Maybe we buy a penthouse and we all live there and eat pancakes together every Saturday morning. My point is, that part’s all solvable and you’re being quite idiotic about it.”

“You’d convince us better if you stopped calling us idiots,” I say.

Gavin just grins at me.

“There’s really only one important question, you know,” he says, looking at each of us in turn.

I raise my eyebrows, waiting for it.

“Do you love her?” he asks.

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