She was the last part of the packing to do before the tour, and it was gutting to put her things in boxes and begin moving them. It was only for three months, but in baby time, that was a lifetime. She could very well forget all about us.
There had been a lot of debate about who would take care of her while we were gone. Both sets of her grandparents wanted her full time. I spent almost three weeks fielding phone calls from all four of them. They’d call Tate and me to pitch their homes and reasons as to why she should stay with them. It got to the point where I started letting them go to voicemail.
Eventually, we settled on an agreement. My parents would have her four days a week. Tate’s parents still worked full time so they would have had to hire a nanny themselves or take time off in order to keep her during the week. My parents took the weekdays, save for Wednesdays. His parents got every weekend. Overall, it felt like a win win. Well, as winnable as it could be. Both sides were still being snarky, but they could figure that out amongst themselves.
With that decision finally made, we started focusing on making the most out of our time with her. We took her to the beach, the park, and started introducing her to food that wasn’t entirely liquid. It was so much fun seeing her reactions to things like lemons versus ice cream.
Finally, six weeks passed. It had felt like true eternity for restrictions, but only minutes for time with Cara. The doctor removed everything from my stomach and gave me the all clear.
“I don’t know if you’re ready mentally, but physically, you should be okay to resume sex,” he told me as the last thing before he left me to get redressed. I nodded and thanked him. I wasn’t sure how to process that. He was right, I wasn’t ready mentally.
Tate understood fully and was by my side through all of it. He didn’t push or even ask about it. I knew that he was ready when I was, and we’d figure out our way back to each other in that sense when it was right.
That moment didn’t happen until our last night at our apartment, and it was beautiful.
Tate was careful. His fingers tracing my skin were soft and slow. His kisses were tender, yet passionate. His lips, his mouth, his hands, were encouraging, but supportive of my needs.
We chose to go incredibly slow with every movement and when we were finally ready to make love, it was unbelievable. I cried after my crescendo. Not because of the pain or heartache, but because of how amazing the man I did this with was. I had never asked for perfection, but he blew any expectations and hope out of the water. He was everything a person could ask for in their life partner.
That night, as we held onto each other, naked, spent, and slipping into relaxation, I felt the powerful emotions over it all and tears slid down my cheeks. Tate wiped them away with his rough, calloused thumb. It was something I always noticed, the feel of a man’s fingers. The true sign of a musician. I wouldn’t want them any other way.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Tate kissed my shoulder over and over again until I stopped sniffling.
“I’m fine, I’m just a little overwhelmed.”
His hand went down to my flat stomach and rubbed it in slow, lazy circles.
“Are you sure you’re alright? Was it too soon?”
“No, it was perfect. All of it,” I paused as I tried to gather my thoughts. “I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you.”
He chuckled, his voice low and seductive. He sat up on his elbows and turned my body to look up at him. He brushed my wild hair away from my face and bent down to kiss me ever so softly. It was almost a whisper.
“I feel the same way about you every single day. We’ve been through so much in such a little amount of time. I can’t wait to see what our future holds.”
I raised my arms to his head to pull him back down to me, and our slow, tender kisses turned harder and more desperate. I reached for him, pressed firmly against my hip. He stopped kissing me to stare deep in my eyes. His face was serious suddenly, his eyebrow raised in hesitation. The silent question played in his emerald eyes.“What do you want me to do?”
I bit my lip and let a small laugh escape my lips. Over the last few months, Tate’s confidence in the bedroom had seeped into me, making it easy to tell him exactly what I wanted him to do. Which… was…
“I want you to fuck me like a rock star on leave.”
He grinned so wide and with one quick roll of his body, was parallel with mine.
“You got it, boss.”
* * *
That next day, we grabbed Cara and the last of our things. The apartment was locked up, and we headed to Tate’s parent’s place. All the grandparents were having dinner tonight before mine took Cara back to their home and started their routine. It was incredibly hard to leave. I cried, Tate shed a tear or two, but he was definitely trying to act like it wasn’t hitting him as hard as it was me.
My dad, who had been through this a dozen times over, was watching him. I knew Tate was feeling like he had to prove something, even though I promised him he didn’t. My dad was a softie, even if he didn’t show it to everyone. Tate could be too, especially when it came to his only daughter.
We met everyone at the bus station. The rest of The Homewreckers were there, waiting for us. Along with the rest of the touring bands. We’d be riding with a full bus. Sharing it with another band we knew and were friendly with, Hysterica. They had a scheduling issue and had to join the tour late too. It worked out well enough. The bus was full along with a few other business people, Levon, Hysterica’s manager, and some people to help with our equipment and merch tables.
Once we were able to process that this was actually happening and relax, Tate and I joined everyone else in the fun. We climbed onto the bus and prepared for a long trip. Our first show was going to take us all day to get to.
I glanced at the schedule. It was busy. Not as grueling as some of the other ones I’d been on, but we would only have a day or two if that between shows. We did get one four-day break at the halfway mark. Tate and I already had tickets to fly back home for those days.
The bus was alive with excited energy for our first show. It was contagious, easily bringing us out of our mini depression. As bad as it sounded, we both started to forget for just a moment what we had left behind. Or rather, who.
