Page 41 of Gabriel's Album

“You’re not ‘leeching’ off me. I have never had money before. Until Cruise Control hit it big, I was pretty much on the bare bones of my ass. So forgive me for wanting to be generous with what I’ve now got.”

“It’s not your fault,” she tells me. “It’s my fault. I hate feeling this way, and I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“So what you’re saying is ‘it’s not you, it’s me’?” I say acidly.

“That’s kind of what I’m saying. I didn’t want you to buy those clothes for me today, but you did it anyway, and it only made me feel more worthless.”

“I bought you those as a gift, Ari. I was trying to be nice. I didn’t realize that you would turn it into something that was bigger than Ben-Hur, or I wouldn’t have bothered.”

I’m heated, and I’ve raised my voice at her. Ariana has tears in her eyes, and I feel like a piece of shit. I didn’t mean to yell at her or get aggressive, but I just feel like I can’t do anything right with her sometimes.

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have done it. Just go. It’s for the best.”

I glare at her for a few more seconds. I want to shake her and tell her that she’s being stupid. I want to tell her that she means everything to me and that I don’t give a shit about money. This isn’t healthy, though. My sisters would be ashamed of me for even yelling at Ariana, and I hate that I just did that, so I turn and walk out of the room.

I can hear her crying as soon as the door closes behind me, and I feel even worse as I make my way back upstairs. I’m not sure if she’s really going to leave or not, but she seemed serious about it. I swallow heavily at the thought of her going. The idea of it is painful as hell, and I fight with the desire to go back down to her room and beg her not to do it.

Thankfully, I don’t see anyone on the way to my room. I drop into one of the armchairs in the sitting area and sigh. I can’t control what Ariana does, but I can control what I do, and I don’t like myself right now. I stare at the blank screen of my phone, considering calling her to talk, but given the conversation we just had, I probably shouldn’t.

Maybe it would be better if she left. She’s not comfortable being with me publicly. As good as things are between us, I don’t know how long we’ll last if nobody can know about us and I can’t even buy her a present without causing an argument.

I hate myself for even thinking that, though. For a second, I think about how I would feel if she actually left today, and it hurts way more than I would expect it to. I’m sitting there and wondering if I should go down to see her, after all, when I hear a knock on my door.

God, I hope it’s her. I walk to the door and open it. Framed on the other side, she looks so fragile and beautiful. Her eyes are red, and I hate that she’s been so upset.

“I’m sorry.”

She croaks out the words before tears start to fall from her eyes. I stand aside to let her into the room and then lead her to my bed. I lie down next to her and hold her in my arms, rubbing her back as she cries.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whisper to her.

“I’m just so sorry. I was such a bitch.”

Of course, she isn’t. I need to acknowledge my part in this.

“You’re not a bitch, Ari, don’t say that about yourself. I was out of line. You said you didn’t want me to buy the clothes, and I should have listened.”

Ariana wipes the tears from her eyes as she sits up next to me. She looks into my eyes, and I want to apologize, to tell her how scared I was that she would leave me. How she’s been one of the best things about this tour and that the thought of continuing on without her is painful as shit.

I don’t get a chance to say any of those things before she kisses me.

7

The Seventh Song

I can hearthe shower running in the bathroom when I wake up. Ariana slept in my bed last night, and the other side of the bed is still warm from where she was sleeping. We didn’t really talk about the things I know we need to talk about, and I have interviews today. Maybe some time apart will help, somehow.

I have a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach, and my mind plays back a movie reel of Ariana telling me she wants to go home. It’s unsettling, and I distract myself by grabbing my phone and checking the time. My phone is counting down the minutes left on the snooze for the alarm, and I should probably hustle to get ready for the breakfast radio interview that’s first up this morning.

The door to the bathroom swings open, and Ariana appears in the doorway, wearing a bathrobe and smiling at me. “Good morning.”

She looks beautiful, even with red eyes that are still puffy from all the crying she did yesterday. I can’t help but grin at her, and I pat the bed next to me to indicate that she should come and join me.

“Morning, Ari.”

Ariana walks over and sits down on the bed next to me. I place my arm around her and pull her closer to me. She rests her head on my chest and I place my other arm around her to hug her. Whatever bodywash the hotel uses has made her smell like strawberries, and I smile as I inhale the scent of it mixed with the scent of Ariana. I close my eyes for a second and enjoy the moment, even though I know that time is a luxury I can’t afford this morning.

“I have interviews to do today,” I sigh. “I wish I could spend the day with you instead.”

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