And that was it. There was no demand from our bodies to do more or to find a release with each other. Just talking to each other was enough after a bad day.
And dammit, I was worried about him.
I was worried about him because…
Nope.
I wouldn't allow myself to go there.
I couldn't be in love with my husband.
Except I was pretty sure I was, and I needed to figure out how to deal with that. Sometime, in the recent past, I'd gone and let my heart get involved. This was about realizing that I had feelings for him, and I seriously didn't know what to do with that.
And then I realized what had to happen, and it couldn't wait thirty days. I needed to talk to Hans.
Lucky for me, Hans didn't keep normal working hours, so when the buses pulled up to the next stop, and I knocked on his door, he let me in.
Hans was built like a lineman, but he dressed like an investor always heading into an important meeting. So it was odd to see him without his tie and suit jacket. Though he probably didn't wear those all the time—especially when he was basically off duty.
"What's going on, Maya?" he asked, gesturing for me to join him.
"I need to go see Sloan," I said. I hadn't run to Hans' bus or anything, but I was still out of breath as I spoke. "It's important, and it's a conversation that needs to happen in person."
Hans frowned.
"Hans, it's important," I said, emphasizing the last word.
"Let me see what I can come up with," he agreed. "How soon do you need to be there?"
That was sort of the problem, wasn't it?
"As soon as possible?"
Hans frowned deeper and thought about it. "I could maybe make Thursday happen? Get you there, get you back before the show?"
I grimaced. "He's got a game."
"Then we'll have to finagle the times. You sure this is something that can't wait?" he confirmed.
"Yes," I said. "No. I mean, it can't wait. Sooner is better."
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
MAYA
The week dragged on, but Thursday finally came. The black Cadillac SUV with tinted windows rolled up near where the tour buses sat parked outside the stadium. I started to sweat, but not from the heat. I brushed back my hair to keep it from sticking to my forehead. I felt a little sick, and it wasn't about divorce or annulments.
"Thank you," I said to Hans. He would've come along with me to Denver, but he had to stay and keep things moving here.
"You have one hour there, and then you're back on a plane. Straight here for the next show." Hans opened the door, holding his hand out to help me into the vehicle.
It took some work to figure out the logistics on this trip, and he wasn't thrilled about it, but he understood that I needed this salt and pepper conversation with my husband.
He made it happen.
That's how I found myself settled into the backseat of the SUV, pulling up to Dimefront's private jet at the airport. Everything about the way the world looked seemed to be subtly muted right then. Like somebody had pushed the sofa too far to the left, and the flow was all jacked up.
I left the car and scooted across the tarmac while calling Finn.
