Page 78 of Heart Strings
“Okay.” His breath is still ragged. “Good talk. Now how do I exit out of this thing?”
He reaches for the mouse like he’s about to close out our video chat and leave me alone with a towel-covered speaker and an empty computer screen.
“Aidan!” If he was here, I’d toss the soiled towel at him and that wicked grin.
“How was that for a private performance?”
“Not bad, rock star.” As if it wasn’t abundantly obvious. I collapse onto the bed, taking my phone with me. It’s probably at a horribly unflattering angle, but right now it doesn’t seem to matter. This is the part where we’d jump into the shower to gently lather each other in between drowsy kisses.
Thanks to the distance between us, all we can do is watch each other. My hands scream to comb through his beard and trace that smile on his lips. His last tour was three months long, sending him across Europe. It’s only been a handful of days since he left and already my heart aches.
What have I opened myself to? What kind of pain am I potentially bringing into Aidan’s life by letting him get close when I might be getting sick again?
“I miss you,” I admit. We’ve been making good on our plansto communicate via text and phone each day, but I want to lay my head on his chest in moments like this, not watch him through a screen. “Put on a kick-ass show, then come right back.”
“I belong to you. Of course I’m coming back.”
He’s said that I belong to him and that he belongs to me—but what have I done to show him that’s true?
“Aidan…I’m gonna tell my mom about us. Is that okay?”
A tenderness enters his face. “Yeah, of course. Are you sure?”
“I want her to know that I found someone special.”
He’s told the whole world about us in song, but I never got around to telling my own mother about him. I’d been thinking of waiting until we’d been together longer, but this feels right. I’m already hiding a piece of potentially life-changing news from my mom. I want to at least be honest about my heart. Aidan is too important to keep hiding.
I just want to curl into his protective arms and tell him about the bloodwork. But this isn’t the right time; I want him to land his dream producer, not distract him. When there’s something concrete to share, I can tell him in person. Right now, the elevated levels of my labs are concerning, but they’re too vague. It’ll only endanger one of the biggest shows of his career.
Just a few more days and I’ll have answers.
Chapter 29
Aidan
Adrenaline courses throughmy body as I thank the audience one last time and step offstage. I feel electric. If only I could share this feeling with Cielo, fly her out with me. Cut her a sidelong glance as she listens from the wings, knowing which lyrics are meant for her. A performance of this scale is nothing like playing a pub, and I want her to share in the intense experience.
Sound techs begin shuttling our equipment backstage, and the band is already deep in a lively conversation in the wings. Personal assistants and roadies shuffle back and forth. Backstage can be chaotic, even more so with a tight festival lineup.
I pull out my mobile and bring up the text conversation with Lo. Feck, I miss her. There’s a tap at my shoulder before I can even type a check-in message.
“Excuse me,” a striking redhead says. A VIP lanyard dangles from her neck over a bohemian outfit. She’s familiar, but I can’t quite place her. Then it hits me. Emma Kinnane. Usually she’swearing Victorian clothes in a beloved BBC drama. “I just wanted to say that was a great set.”
“Oh, erm, hi. Thanks so much.”
“Was that last song new? It was amazing!”
Pride balloons in my chest. If she loved it, Nigel might feel the same. Martin didn’t want me to introduce any new work tonight, but I added it to the set list anyway. Maybe now that he’s seen the audience’s response, he’ll agree that it’s worth fighting for.
“Yeah, tonight was its debut.”
“Is it going to be on the next album—sorry, I’m a big fan but I don’t mean to interrogate you.”
“No, no. It’s nice to hear it. I’m not sure about the track lists on the new one yet,” I tell her honestly. If I can’t strike a compromise with the label, the next album might sound nothing like how I envision it. “I’m a fan of your show. The second season was really powerful.”
I know our teams felt being spotted together would be mutually beneficial, but I don’t know how Emma felt about it, or if she was offended that I declined. I pray she doesn’t bring it up.
The touring bass player claps me on the back. “Is this the girl you were tellin’ me about?”
