Page 111 of Five Summers

As I wait for the town car to arrive, Alex is happily playing in the sandpit. It's so great to see him playing outside and what I'm doing for the next eight weeks is all for him, so he can do this every day.

Yesterday I heard from Mrs. B. She was so upset. She rang to tell me that her daughter suffered a stroke during her surgery and she needs to be with her family. And that it could be a few more weeks before she returned. Surprisingly my mother was happy to have Alex for that length of time.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't forget anything for Alex," I say, coming out the back door to stand with my mom as she watches Alex play in the sandpit. "I think I'll stand over there so I can see when the car arrives." I move to the side of the yard for a better view of the street.

My mother walks over and waits with me.

“I’m going to call you every night.” When I hear a car pulling up, I quickly turn my head. "That's my ride," I say, moving in to hug my mom. "Thanks, Mom, for doing this for me," I say.

I release the hug and notice the driver is already out of the car.

"I'll be there in a second," I shout out, before going over to say goodbye to Alex. It's heartbreaking that I won't be with him, but I have to do this for our future.

"Alright, buddy, I'm gonna go now," I say, tears welling up.

He stands and rushes over, his arms and legs covered in sand, but I don’t mind because as a mother, those little things no longer bother me. Not anymore. There was this one time when Alex was a baby that I went to the supermarket and unknowingly had baby vomit in my hair.

“Bye Alex,” I say, holding him in a tight embrace. However, I can feel his excitement to get back to the sandpit. “I love you.” The moment I release him, he dashes off, as if the sandpit holds the utmost significance in his world.

"I love you too!" he shouts, grabbing the red bucket and spade, and returning to his digging.

I make my way back to where my mom is and continue circling the house. Just as I’m about to enter the front yard, I pause for a moment to steal one last glance at Alex. He’s got his head down, totally engrossed in the sand. I turn away, grab my bag from the front patio, and head towards the front gate, where the driver patiently waits for me.

“Miss Poppy Reeves,” the driver says.

“Yes,” I add.

“Hi, I’m Nigel, and I’ll be chauffeuring you to the airport.”

He takes my bag, heads to the car, and pops open the back door so I can get in.

As I settle into my seat, he shuts the door. I steal a quick look toward the spot where my mother was standing earlier, only to find she’s already left.

Once Nigel puts my suitcase in the trunk, he hops in and starts the engine. I give my old childhood home one last look as the car leaves, already missing my son.

Four hours later, following a business class flight and another town car ride from the airport, I’ve checked into the most luxurious hotel I’ve ever laid eyes on. Without wasting any time, I indulge in a delicious meal and take full advantage of the mini bar, while treating myself to a binge-watching session of the latest season of my all-time favorite show, The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. It’s a rare opportunity for me to catch up, as it has been years since I’ve had the chance to sit and enjoy a binge-watch marathon like this.

Ace kindly left an envelope for me at the front desk, informing me that a car would pick me up early in the morning. So, I avoid drinking any alcohol, as I certainly don’t want to oversleep and miss my wake-up call.

Chapter forty-four

Xander

For the past two weeks, the walls of my house have felt suffocating. I know it’s too big for just one person, but that’s what you do when you have money and come from nothing. You splurge because you never want to go back to that.

Years ago, we stumbled upon a large block of land and decided to divide it, constructing three houses on that block. We never fenced off our houses, so the environment felt like a family estate for me and the rest of the band members. My house is positioned in the middle. It’s slightly smaller than Ace’s, which has a recording studio. Theo and Nate live on the other side of me. Each of us needs our own space, and we’ve agreed not tobring any chicks or groupies back to our sanctuary. This place is our haven, where we can be our true selves, flaws and all. Over time, our bond has strengthened to where we feel like a family, the four of us. Out of all of us, Nate was the lucky one who had a supportive family that pushed him to chase his dreams, and from what I’ve heard, his parents practically raised Theo. He used to live three doors down the street from Nate. I thought my childhood was tough growing up with an asshole of a father, but the night Theo opened up and shared his childhood experiences, it was nothing compared to what he went through.

I have more respect for Nate's family after hearing that. I enjoy it when they come to visit. Even though they’ve been here only a few times in the last three years, his mom reminds me a lot of my mom in the way she takes care of her son. His dad is really funny, and I enjoy sitting and having a few beers with him. I haven’t met his younger sister yet, but from what I’ve heard, she’s following in her brother’s footsteps. Word has it she's killer on the drums and determined to make a name for herself in the music scene.

Sitting on my couch in nothing but my sweatpants, I gaze at the white grand piano that takes up most of the room. I impulsively bought it when I moved into this place. It was a foolish decision to invest in an instrument that serves as nothing more than a dust collector. I suck at playing the damn thing.

Still today I have no fucking idea why I bought it in the first place. I've tinkered with it a few times and honestly thought I could teach myself to play, but man, the piano is a whole different ball game compared to a guitar. I think watching Poppy easily switch between the keyboard and guitar made me think I could do it too, but it never worked out. She's super talented in that area compared to me.

Ever since I saw her the other night, I’ve been spiraling downward again. It's a tough pill to swallow knowing she doesn’twant anything to do with me. And honestly, who can blame her after what I put her through. But what I love is she’s still that fiery girl I remember, the one with the sharp tongue who refuses to tolerate anyone’s shit.

I find myself absentmindedly soothing the pain in my chest, near the tattoo etched on my skin. I got it years ago and only Theo knows its significance. The music staff, embellished with music notes, wraps around a flower - a red poppy. In addition to the intricate design, there are also tiny inscriptions, but you need to get up close to read them.

I hide it away from the prying eyes of the media, ensuring its secrecy. I always make sure it remains out of sight. This tattoo serves as a reminder of what we used to have. How she carved her name into the depths of my heart, and it has never faded.

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