I laugh, and he grins. There’s a cute little mole on his cheek that rises whenever he smiles.
“I figured—with all the success you’ve had, you could do whatever you want. Ride a horse. Fly to the moon. I don’t know.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, it probably looks that way on the outside, and some of that’s true, I suppose. I can wear the clothes I want. Buy whatever things I want to buy. But they’re justthings.” I suddenly realize what I’m saying might come across as ungrateful—conceited—and I cringe.
I glance over to check his expression. He’s watching me intently, but there’s no judgment in his eyes. It makes me want to share more.
“Everything else in my life is regimented,” I say with a shrug. “Planned to the minute. There isn’t any room left to just…breathe. Be alive, you know?”
He nods. “Yeah, I know.”
The way he says the words—confident and clear—it’s like hedoesknow. But he doesn’t.
“No. You don’t understand.” It irritates me when people say they get it, because even if they think they do, they have no idea how different my life is. “Nobody does. It’s not—I don’t live how other people live.”
“I get it.” He’s looking at me with compassion, but I’m getting increasingly frustrated, wanting someone to understand all the pressure and exhaustion, the lack of privacy and control, but knowing he can’t.
“Youdon’t, though!” His chin juts back, and I realize I’m raising my voice. I know I shouldn’t be taking it out on him, but it’s all bubbling up inside me, and I want to get it out.
“Yes, I love my job. Yes, I love being able to sing my songs and dance for millions of fans for a living. It’s a dream!” I’m shaking my head. “It’s an absolute dream, and I’m so thankful for it. I am! But also, I’msotired!” My eyes sting, and I spin back toward the water to hide the emotion on my face. “There’s too much pressure, and I never know who I can trust.”
His hand comes to the back of my arm. “Harper, I know.” He says it so softly that tears fill my eyes. I have to flip the eye patch up to blot them away with my fingers so my makeup won’t run.
“Hey.” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “You don’t have to be cheerful and thankful all the time. It’s OK to be tired.”
I turn to meet his gaze, and he presses his thumb to my cheek, dabbing a tear away. There’s something gentle in it that catches me off guard.
“Everybody needs a break sometimes,” he whispers, and it soothes something raw inside my heart.
I nod. “Ever since the new management came in, they’ve been running me into the ground. It’s nonstop between rehearsals and the packed schedule for this tour. I don’t have time to catch my breath.”
He’s quiet for a while, then he says, “Sounds like you might need new management.”
I laugh. “Yeah, maybe I do.” It sounds obvious when he says it, because itistoo much, and I’m not happy with my life anymore. None of it feels the way it used to, when it was all about the music. My fans.
Maybe I’ve been so busy I haven’t been able to think straight.
“Hmm. Is this you using the special training you got for celebrities?” I joke, swiping my hand under my nose to make sure it’s not running. “Talking them down from tantrums and wiping their tears away?”
His jaw tenses.
“Sorry, I was just teasing.”
He nods. “I know.” His expression is all business again, and I’m not sure why things shifted.
He glances around to check for anything suspicious, then his eyes settle back on the water.
“What is the training anyway?” I say.
“Huh?”
“The special training.”
“Oh. It’s not— It’s nothing like that. It’s just?—”
He seems flustered all of a sudden, and I spin to face him. “What’s wrong?”
He stares at me for a moment, then he sighs loudly. “Look, I don’t have special training,” he says matter-of-factly.
