As everyone turns to talk with one another, Chris gets out from his chair. He works his way through the tables, giving high-fives to various people before he slides into the room with me.
“That was amazing. I don’t know why you were so worried about your speech,” I say, closing the door and hugging him.
“Well, what can I say, move over Alexander, there’s a new star in town.” He stretches his arms out wide as he steps back from the hug.
“You never told me you were a stand-up comedian.” I dust off bits of ash from his suit jacket.
“Well, if there’s one thing us Brits can do, it’s humor,” he says, taking a bow.
“Well, I can think of another thing,” I say, grabbing at the band of his trousers.
Christopher coughs and I let go as Stacey reenters the room.
“Don’t you have a show to be getting to?” he asks.
“Yeah, but I didn’t want to miss your speech, and I’m so glad now I didn’t.” I reach out to adjust his bow tie.
God, he looks so handsome.
“What time will you be back?”
“I’m not sure. They want to do an end of tour wrap party for the crew, but I’ll message you when I’m en route, okay?” I grab his shoulder and shake him.
“Okay,” he sighs.
I don’t want to go either, but after this last show we can spend more time together.
“Right. Go enjoy yourself.” I tap my finger on his nose and motion him back out the door into the ballroom. Then I turn back to Stacey, who walks me back out to Rob. He’s standing with Freddy, who is ready to go.
One more show.
One. More. Show.
The backstage bar is a buzz afterward. There’s a celebratory atmosphere now that the tour is officially wrapping. I get several hugs and high-fives from the band and the crew, along with a few tears.
Nathan is jubilant at the studio version ofStolen Moments.
Lucy and Erica are both excited to finally get back to their own beds.
My parents are happy to be off to see Windsor Castle tomorrow.
Paul pauses us mid-conversation to gather everyone around and have one final team talk.
“One hundred and twenty-two shows, over ten months, across five continents, with nearly one point eight million tickets sold. None of this would have been possible without every single one of you in this room. So, thank you,” Paul says, to cheers and raised glasses.
Paul motions me to come forward as Lucy brings out a plaque from behind the bar.
“Alexander, you are the hardest working person I’ve ever met, and I know this tour and I have been tough on you, but I’mso proud of the work you’ve put in, and for the man you’ve become.”
Paul shakes my shoulder.
This breadcrumb of praise stirs up emotions in the pit of my stomach.
I swallow down the feeling, not wanting to get overwhelmed in the moment, or too comfortable and familiar with Paul’s praise.
Why can’t he be like this more often?
Like fifty-fifty percent asshole, rather than ninety percent asshole and ten percent caring.
