Meghan’s husband Jeff cleared his throat. He was over at the bar, mixing a mocktail for his pregnant wife.
“I’ll let the professional answer,” Meghan said. Jeff was a therapist specializing in couples counseling.
“It’s normal for Riot to set healthy boundaries,” he explained with his back turned to us. “Prioritizing himself, and his own mental health, isn’t a red flag by itself. Especially considering he’s been on a cramped tour bus for the last eight weeks.”
“But…?” I asked.
He walked over with the drinks, placing the non-alcohol one in front of Meghan and the potent one in front of me. “But,” he said with a grimace, “it would be weird if you two didn’t see each other at all over a two week period. Especially since you said he lives fifteen minutes away. That’s notthatfar.”
I groaned and downed half the drink in three gulps.
“I wouldn’t catastrophize just yet,” he said. “Give him a few days. See if he reaches out. Maybe he just needed some time to himself first. If he’s really that into you, then he won’t be able to wait the whole two weeks.”
“And if hedoesn’treach out?”
He dipped his finger into the mashed potato bowl. “Then I guess you should enjoy the rest of the tour before it ends.”
“Enough talking about the sad stuff,” Meghan insisted. “This is Thanksgiving! Tell us more about the tour!”
I gave them a toned-down version of the fun we had in the equipment van, which had the added effect of cheering me up. By the end of the night, I wasn’t worried anymore. I was sure that Riot would call.
But he didn’t.
45
Roxie
The next week dragged by, thanks to complete radio silence from Riot.
Cash and I exchanged texts almost every day. Milo called me three times to talk about his trip to West Texas—he was in this tiny little town called Marfa which apparently was famous among hipsters and Los Angeles celebrities. Even Violet shot me a text to make sure I was doing okay, and that I was still rejoining them when the tour continued.
But Riot didn’t reach out. Not once.
I thought about texting him, but I was curious to see if he wouldevercontact me. I hated these kinds of relationship tests, but I desperately needed to know if he would miss me enough to be the one to reach out first. That only left me frustrated and anxious.
I was a nervous bundle of energy when we met at the tour bus in the long-term parking lot. Cash and Milo hugged and kissed me, and asked how my break was.
“You know you missed me,” Milo said with a wink. “Or at least, you missedpartof me.” He gave the air a little hump.
“I missed your cock,” I agreed. “But I also missed the rest of you,I guess.”
He roared with laughter and hugged me again.
“Have y’all heard from Riot?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. He’s gotten a lot of work done,” Cash replied. “He was spamming me with clips of his guitar riffs.”
“We text every day,” Milo said. “About the Spurs and Mavericks, though. We have very strong opinions about our NBA teams.”
“Oh,” I said. So Riot only wanted solitude from me, not from everyone.
There was a hollow ball of aching anxiety in the pit of my stomach as Riot arrived. He smiled when he saw me, dropped his duffel bag on the ground, and spread his arms wide.
“There’s my muse!”
His hug was warm and his kiss full of passion, but it only calmed my nerves a little bit. I couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed between us over the break.
Or maybe I had deluded myself into thinking this was something more.
