Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I couldn’t have been prouder. I especially loved that they’d highlighted Tristan’s vocal prowess. He’d done everything he could to overcome his vocal challenges. After having surgery shortly after the last album was released a couple of years ago, he’d gone on an anti-inflammatory diet, practiced meditation, and adhered to strict silent periods whenever possible.
About halfway through the article, I noticed my name.
As motivated as I was to write my son’s music, it was a difficult and emotional experience. I couldn’t have made it through without the most amazing life partner. Having Emily by my side has meant everything. I couldn’t do any of this without her.
Placing my hand over my heart, I felt a rush of unexpected emotion. “That’s so sweet.”
“It’s all true.”
After we finished the article, I wanted to read it all over again, but we needed to get ready for our backyard barbecue today. Atticus and Ronan were in town, along with some of the band’s management who’d flown in for the weekend to celebrate the magazine feature and the release of The Rocker’s Muse later this week.
“I’m gonna put up those outdoor lights I bought,” Tristan said.
“Okay. I’ll run to the market and get the remaining items we need.”
I grabbed the keys to Tristan’s SUV. As I drove, I thought about how much he and I had accomplished in the past couple of years since I’d moved out to L.A. with him. Between his surgery recovery, the completion of another small North American tour, and recording The Rocker’s Muse, it had been nonstop work for him. And I’d been busy, too. I hadn’t been able to join Tristan for most of that tour last year because of the marketing job I continued to hold with Amity Records. The company was currently paying for me to get my master’s in marketing while I worked for them, developing campaigns for album promotion.
Now, though, we’d finally have a break in Tristan’s schedule to travel. And I’d taken three weeks off of work so he and I could spend some time at a villa we’d rented on Italy’s Amalfi coast. We were leaving in a couple of days, which was one of the reasons we’d stopped here in Shady Hills first, so my mother could stay with our dog and rabbit. I didn’t trust strangers.
I still struggled with feeling undeserving of this life, but I’d come a long way. I’d likely always be scarred by my past, but I’d gotten enough therapy to start letting go of some of the guilt, even if I wasn’t perfect at it. Recovery, I’d learned, doesn’t have to be a hundred percent. As long as I was better than before, that was progress.
I arrived at the grocery store and made my way in and out as quickly as possible. Before I knew it, I was back in the car, headed to my man. Whenever I drove one of Tristan’s many cars, I felt so freaking fancy and laughed to myself, thinking about the run-down car I’d left behind when I moved to L.A. That old Corolla would likely always be what I felt I belonged in.
I’d recently written Tristan a check for that million dollars he’d given me and insisted he take it back. It was bad enough that I lived with him in that enormous house back in L.A. and he’d bought us a second home here in Shady Hills. He also spoiled me any chance he got. I didn’t want to have that money hanging over my head. It made me feel better to give it back, and to my surprise, he’d taken it.
Back at the house, I put away the groceries and went to the backyard to check on Tristan’s progress. I stood at the glass door overlooking the pool and watched in amusement as Tristan climbed a wobbly ladder and became entangled in a bunch of lights he was attempting to hang across the greenery in the yard.
“Need some help over there?” I shouted.
“Yeah, I could use a drink.”
“Not sure you should add alcohol to whatever you’re doing. You’re wobbly enough on that ladder.”
“And here I was thinking you were the only person in my life who wasn’t a ball buster. Guess I was wrong.”
I giggled. “You’re adorable when you’re frustrated, but maybe forget about the lights. They’re unnecessary.”
“Nah. I’m gonna figure this shit out. They’ll look cool at night.”
I left him there and returned to the kitchen to arrange plates of appetizers. When I came back to the patio, Tristan had made some progress, but the majority of the lights remained tangled and unhung.
“What the fuck is going on here?” a voice called from behind us.
Tristan and I turned to find Ronan holding a case of beer. He and Atticus had keys to our houses, so they always just let themselves in.