Page 97 of Feuds and Interludes
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Annie and Bran both had their headphones in, and I doubted anyone else understood my conversation. The talking around me had all been in different languages.
“Because it’s one of my favorite things about you.”
He made a disbelieving huff on the other end. “Why the postcards?”
My heart stuttered. “Why? Are they bothering you?”
“No, babe. I love them.” He hadn’t called me babe since everything happened. “But you have so much going on, why bother?”
I got up from my seat and took the opportunity to stretch my legs. I was winding up to let him have it, and I didn’t want to take the chance that someone listening might recognize me and understand the conversation.
“Are you serious right now? Whybother? Oh, I don’t know, Shane, because I’m halfway around the world and I miss you like crazy? Maybe because I’m trying to plant seeds in your stubborn, hard head that even after everything, I fucking love you? For all the reasons?”
“I love you too, Boone. I was an asshole. I’m sorry I lost my shit. It was a wake-up call that I still have some shit to deal with and you, unfortunately, were on the receiving end.”
“God, I wish I was there with you right now.”
“I don’t know if I could be this honest if you were here, though.”
“Then tell me everything.”
He blew out a breath. “Okay.”
Over that conversation, and the others we had during the next few weeks, he shared the things I wished he would have on that ugly day, but he hadn’t been ready. He told me what his mom said to him. He told me he’d gone back to therapy and Al-Anon. He admitted that he’d hoped we would record our music together, and the fact that me being out on tour when he had nothing lined up was tough for him to swallow.
It went a long way toward healing the rift between us.I just wasn’t sure it was enough.
“Come to London,” I said during the last week we were in Europe. “Before I go to Australia and can’t see you for another month.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t leave Pops right now. His cardiologist referred him to cardiac therapy as an extra precaution. He admitted he hadn’t been working out regularlylike he did with me, so it’s good for him. I’m taking him four days a week. We’re also in crunch time for the gala. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I know you have your hands full. How are the wedding arrangements going?”
“You know? They’ve been close-lipped. I think those two are going to elope after the gala. They haven’t said as much, but I think they might do it.”
“How do you feel about that?” I asked him. I knew he’d struggled with the fact that it wasn’t Bruce and him alone against the world anymore.
“Glad I won’t have to wear a damn monkey suit.”
I burst out laughing, and Annie and Bran groaned. We were packed into a tiny hotel room because of some mix-up. Bran and me in a twin bed, and Annie in one alone with her gas. Not ideal.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
“Bloody hell, Butler. Get your arse on a plane and do this in person.” Bran’s British accent was actually quite good. We’d been practicing all over town, which had Annie so done with us.
“I already tried. Go back to sleep.” I climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom to give them a break. “I’d like to see you in a monkey suit. You were devastatingly handsome last year at the induction ceremony.”
“I was an asshole at the induction ceremony.”
“But look where we are now?” I joked about it, but we still hadn’t made any firm commitments to each other. I was still concerned that I’d return to LA and he’d tell me he’d rather we just work on being friends, or whatever the fuck you were when your grandparents married each other.
Love’s a fucking brutal bitch.
“Where are we?” he asked.
I whispered to him what he’d asked me all those weeks ago. “Where do you wish we could be?”
