Page 26 of Gabriel's Album

“The very same. I’m also sure that you’ve heard the rumors about him.”

“Well…yeah. I’ve heard some.”

Oh, shit. Awkward. It’s starting to make sense to me now. All of the puzzle pieces begin slotting into place as Ariana continues her explanation.

“The first time I knew about those rumors, I was nine. I came home, and my aunt was at our kitchen table with my mom and crying into a bucket of ice cream. I didn’t know at the time, of course, but the media had just found out and published that he was having an affair with his co-star on the movie he was filming at the time.”

She lowers her gaze and looks down at the seat, running her fingers along the stitching in the leather as she continues with her story.

“He’s cheated on her with three different women, to my knowledge. Though, from what I know, he hasn’t done it at all in the last seven years. They’ve had therapy together, and she’s forgiven him. They’re in a pretty good place now.”

When she looks back up at me, there’s a tiny smile on her face. It’s only there for a second before it vanishes completely. She shakes her head and then sighs.

“That doesn’t stop the stories, though. Every time he’s even just a little bit too close to a woman, they publish another story. It doesn’t matter that it’s not true; they just make shit up to sell magazines or get clicks. My cousins, who I absolutely love to death, have grown up seeing this bullshit about their family time and time again. They caught hell at school, and I know it’s embarrassing, and it gets them down. It’s just a life that I swore I would never have for myself.”

There’s silence again as she finishes her explanation. I take a moment to process what she’s just told me. I can see how that would help someone to form some pretty strong opinions on celebrities and their relationship with the paparazzi. I’m left with one empty piece to this puzzle, and I search for it by asking her the question that’s burning in my brain.

“That explains so much. There’s one thing that I don’t understand, though, Ari.”

“What?”

“I don’t get why you ever agreed to go on a date with me in the first place.” I shrug in confusion.

“As if I even had a choice,” she replies, surprisingly quickly.

“What do you mean by that?”

Ariana gets a panic-stricken look on her face and I don’t know what about my question has her looking like that. I turn her words over in my brain, ‘as if I even had a choice.’

I watch her and wait for her answer to my question. I’m disappointed when, instead of explaining, she tells me the worst thing she could tell me.

“It doesn’t matter, really,” she says, sounding sad. “I’m enjoying spending time with you, but I’m hyper-aware that in two weeks you’re going to be leaving to go on tour for months on end. I mean, I hate to say it, but in the face of that fact, what we have can’t really go anywhere until you come back, anyway. So why would I be expected to give up my privacy and lifestyle for the sake of a night or two out a week before you leave me?”

I’m stunned, and I don’t know exactly what she’s saying. Parts of it are rattling around in my brain, but one phrase is lit up in my head like a neon sign.

“You don’t think what we have can go anywhere?” I blink at her.

I hadn’t really considered what would happen when the tour started, beyond her being there for the first concert.

“Well, not until you come back. I can’t commit to anything, and I wouldn’t want you to, either. You’re a famous rock star, and you’re about to go on your first tour. How could I expect you to stay faithful to a person you’ve barely started dating? It’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault; we just have super shitty timing.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I can’t keep the hurt and disappointment out of my voice. “It sounds like you’ve really given this some thought.”

This is the part that hurts the most, I think. All I’ve been thinking about is how much time I can spend with her, but she’s been thinking about basically ending it with me.

“It’s been on my mind for a while, yes,” she replies. “I don’t want to end all contact with you while you’re on tour. I still want to talk to you; we can email and text and call each other, but we’ll just be friends—we won’t be tied to each other.”

“And you want this arrangement, not so that you can sleep with other men, but so that I can sleep with other women?”

It’s so far beyond my comprehension that this amazing woman basically wants to call it quits so I can live a lifestyle like Sebastian’s while we’re on tour.

“That’s correct.”

Pass, thanks. She has no idea that I don’t want that lifestyle. I absolutely enjoy the company of a beautiful woman, but I don’t stand onstage staring through the crowd, looking for someone that I can hook up with after our gig. Except, you know, the night I met her.

“There is another option that you haven’t considered, you know,” I tell her with my heart racing a thousand miles a minute as I think about suggesting this.

“What would that be? I won’t tie you down, Gabe, I just won’t.”

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