“I don’t. Not yet. But I will.”
“What if—and please don’t get mad because I’m framing this in the context of taking care of our baby—the next album flops?”
He nods. “I know. That’s always a concern. But we have to have faith. And one of our options would be to rent your house, so we have some kind of income coming in. I have to believe that even if the next album doesn’t do well, it will still sell enough to pay off our debt to the label and bring in some money. Just not double-platinum money.”
Moving to Minneapolis.
Selling or renting out my house.
Moving my mom to an out-of-state facility.
Giving birth with a doctor I don’t know.
I’m suddenly overwhelmed, and I sink down on the edge of the bed.
“Babe?” Tate sits next to me and takes my hand. “Talk to me. What are you thinking?”
“I’m scared. I think…” I pull in a breath. “No, I need to give birth in New York. With the doctor I’m comfortable with—she’s been my gynecologist since I was seventeen—and Dolly. Close to my mom and my house.”
“Do I not figure in that equation?” he asks quietly.
“You do, of course. But like you said, what if you’re on tour?”
“Right now, there is nothing on the books beyond this tour, which ends in December. Nobody’s Fool is in a holding pattern as well, as Lexi makes a decision about whether or not she can tour with her son long-term. If so, they’ll start a North American tour next year sometime, but we don’t know when. I’ve already let Sasha know that March is out for me. If something extraordinary comes up for the band, I spoke to Big Z from Onyx Knight and he said he would step in for me around that time.”
“You did?” I didn’t realize he was thinking ahead, and I’m suddenly a little embarrassed at my lack of faith in him.
“Of course. I don’t want to miss anything. This is our baby. A first for both of us.”
“Please don’t be mad,” I say gently. “But I need a little time to wrap my head around moving. I guess I just assumed we would live at my house when you’re not on tour or actively recording.”
He puts my hand between both of his. “My job isn’t like other jobs. There’s so much more to it. We write songs, rehearse, go in the studio to try out different sounds and experiment with instruments…we have to be in the same place a good portion of the time. I can travel back and forth to Minnesota if you don’t ever think you could live in Minneapolis. But it’s going to mean a lot more time apart. If we’re living in Minneapolis, I can be home for dinner or whatever. Come home early if you or the baby is sick. And we won’t waste a ton of money flying back and forth. My job becomes more normal, so to speak.”
I sigh and rest my head on the side of his arm.
It never crossed my mind that he would want me to move, but it makes sense. Selling my house allows me to donate a chunk of money to something new, something we buy together, which makes me feel like a contributing partner. But then I have nothing else. Nothing to fall back on.
But telling him that seems wrong, like I’m already dooming our marriage—our entire relationship—to fail. And he’s been nothing but good to me. Kind and supportive and patient.
“I know this is a lot,” he says after a while. “And it’s fair for you to want to wait until after the baby comes to make any big decisions. So let’s table this discussion for now, okay?”
“Okay.” I nod, but my head is spinning.
It feels like I’m going to cry, but I’m tired of this constant plethora of emotions guiding almost everything I do lately. I need to take a step back and consider all the options before I make any decisions.
“You okay?” he asks after a moment.
“Yes. I’m just going to let it all percolate for a bit.”
“Absolutely.” He kisses the side of my face. “Are you almost ready to go?”
“I need about ten minutes.” I stand up and hurry into the bathroom.
I still want to cry.
I step under the warm spray of the shower and close my eyes.
Then I burst into tears.
