Chapter 38
Jason
♪ Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea | Missio
Five weeks later
I was playing in Vegas. I was sitting on a cold metal folding chair backstage drinking my second Red Bull of the night when Sloan called. It was loud. Grayscale was almost done with their set.
It had been five weeks since I’d last seen her. I missed her so much it made me physically ill. I couldn’t sleep and I was getting headaches. Probably grinding my teeth, who the fuck knew.
This whole thing with Sloan was a complete and total transfer of energy. She was happy and light and rested, and now I was a mess. Saying goodbye to her had fucking wrecked me.
“Hey, babe. What’s up?” I said, rubbing my forehead.
“Did you get the cookies?”
I could hear the smile in her voice. She was always smiling now. I tried not to dwell too much on what it meant that she was so much happier not being here.
“Yeah. Thank you.”
“Your mom gave me the recipe,” she sang.
I arched an eyebrow. “Did she?” I set the empty can down and waved at Zane, pointing at it for another one.
“Yup. I can make them for you now whenever you want.”
I actually smiled a little, despite the throbbing in my head. “She must really like you. She doesn’t give that to anyone.”
She laughed. “Well, I had to barter for it. I let her post her favorite grouse recipe on The Huntsman’s Wife in exchange.”
“So she can be bought.” I chuckled dryly.
Mom loved her. Everyone did. Dad raved about my girlfriend every time I called home. But I’d actually been regretting sending her there instead of an Airbnb on the beach or something because my parents, though well intentioned, were a distraction.
Sloan wasn’t getting her work done.
I missed her. Every time I talked to her, all I wanted to ask was, “How long?” How much longer until she came back?
Her paintings took months. I knew that. And I didn’t want to rush her. She needed to focus, and me constantly asking when she’d be done with it wasn’t going to help things. So I never poked her. It was my number one rule. I inquired about how it was going, if it was coming out the way she wanted. But I never asked how long.
And then last night she’d sent me a picture.
It wasn’t even half-finished.
My heart had crashed and burned in my chest.
I don’t think she even started until Kristen left, so that was two weeks of zero progress. Mom was taking her antique shopping and to meat raffles. Dad was bringing her on hikes and having her over to the outfitter. I’d been right about the cooking thing—Sloan had started updating her blog again. But she and Mom together were a dangerous combination. They could be in the kitchen all day long if left to their own devices—which they were.
Under normal circumstances, I’d be thrilled that my family had embraced her. But these weren’t normal circumstances. I wanted her back.
I’d rather Sloan get two hours of painting done and come home to me two hours sooner than I get a delivery of Grandma’s cookies to my hotel room—even if they were my favorite.
“You want to hear something funny?” Sloan said. “Your mom says the next time we’re here together, we can share a room.” She sounded triumphant.
“Wow, that is big,” I mumbled. The bass from the stage vibrated from the floor to my brain and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“I think she’s hoping you’ll get me pregnant so she can keep me.”
I snorted. “Sounds like a good enough reason to me,” I said tiredly. “Let’s do it. Stop taking your pill.”
She laughed. “Wow, your tour has officially made you insane.”
“What?” I pinched my temples. “You want to raise kids with Kristen, don’t you? Let’s knock you up.”
She giggled. “How romantic. But pregnant? And then with a baby? On tour? That’s crazy.”
I squinted out at the curtains. “How is that crazy?”
She snorted. “Are you kidding?”
“Why would I be kidding?” I frowned.
“Pregnancy is hard, Jason. Look how run-down you’ve been, and you’re not carrying a baby. We can’t do that on tour.”
I shook my head. “Sloan, there’s always going to be a tour. We know that already. We can’t let that stop us from living our lives.”
“Jason, we don’t need to have kids right now. We can wait until it’s better.”
I shook my head again. “It’s not going to be better. We have to work with what we have.”
“Uh, by doing something nuts like dragging myself around the globe pregnant? And then what? Breastfeeding behind stage? A crib in the dressing room?” She sounded amused.
“Yeah, why not?”
“Are you serious?” She laughed. “Have you ever actually met a baby? You do realize that they require a routine, right?”
My jaw flexed. “Sloan, I’m not joking about this. If we want to have kids, we should have kids.”
There was a beat of silence. “You don’t even get days off, Jason.” The humor had suddenly left her tone.
“So?”
“So I get pregnant and then what? Deal with morning sickness and jet lag? When would I go to the doctor? And would you even be there with the way they’re running you? What if I needed to be on bed rest? What if I went into labor on the road in a foreign country? What if the baby got sick or—”
“I would make sure you’re taken care of,” I said slowly. “You know that.”
“You can’t even take care of yourself out there. You’ve been having headaches for weeks, you’re not sleeping. And we both know how I do on the road.”
I tried to steady my breathing. “So you’re just what? Not going to have kids with me?”
“I didn’t say that,” she said carefully. “I just said I wouldn’t do it right now. It’s not practical.”
“Sloan, this is the best I can do. I can’t change it.”
“I know. But that means you have to be realistic about what you can have—what we can have—until this situation improves. Lots of couples put off having kids while they focus on their careers. It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. Not to me and not to her either, no matter what the hell she said to try to make me feel better about it.
The background music from the opening band came to an end. We both heard it. Zane handed me my Red Bull and held up a hand, letting me know I was on in three minutes.
Sloan’s voice softened. “Look, you have to go on. Let’s talk about this later, okay? You don’t need to be worked up about this before your show.”
I put my fingers on my temples. “Sloan—”
“Call me tonight, Jason. I love you.”
The line went dead.
I set my phone on my leg and put palms to my eyelids.
This separation was killing me. I was fucking unraveling out here. I couldn’t keep doing this.
It was nothing like it had been when we met. Talking on the phone wasn’t enough anymore, and at the rate she was going with her work, I doubted she’d even be able to meet me in Paris. And now this? How many more things was she going to have to give up?
I dragged myself onstage and went through the motions, but I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation.
I took a quick break halfway through my set and called her.
“Hey,” she said, picking up.
“I need to know you’ll do whatever it takes for us to have a life together,” I said without preamble.
“You want me to tell you I’ll be pregnant and dragging after you like a groupie while you go be a rock star?” she said, finally irritated with me. “Really? Why are you so dead set on arguing about this?”
“Why are you so dead set on making sure this won’t work? I’m a musician, Sloan. You knew this was what you were signing up for.”
“I signed up for touring with you. Me. Not babies who will grow up in hotel rooms. Not little children who won’t even be able to play unless it’s in a bus. It’s not fair to them. I wouldn’t even bring a puppy into this. Not until you have some balance.”
“I would have balance if you were here,” I said through gritted teeth.
“I can’t be your balance, Jason. I’m not doing it, I’m not further reducing the quality of my life just so you can check something off your list,” she snapped.
“Sloan—”
She let out a shaky breath. “Jason, I have to go.”
She hung up on me.
I hurled my phone against the wall.
Zane, who stood by the emergency exit texting, got pelted with shrapnel. “You know I’m not going to be able to replace that until tomorrow, right?” she said calmly.
“Fuuuuck!”
I clawed my fingers down my face and then turned my wrath on the nearest inanimate object and kicked over a fog machine. “No more goddamn motherfucking fog!”
My backup band milled around the water fountain, waiting for me, and they looked at me now like I’d lost my damn mind.
Maybe I had.
I yanked out my in-ear monitor and stormed off to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I leaned on the sink, trying to catch my breath.
So now what? The price for being with me had gone even higher? She had to trail after me for years on end, sick and exhausted, missing her friends and family, not painting, and now I was taking motherhood from her too?
I just wanted her to tell me that all of this was all right. That we’d figure it out. Get through it, do whatever we had to do. And she wouldn’t.
And why the fuck would she? None of this was all right.
Zane came in. She didn’t scatter after my rampage, which made me think either she didn’t have any self-preservation instincts or she thought raging, chronically exhausted, asshole rock stars were par for the course.
Fuck, maybe they were.
“Can you send Sloan some flowers?” I muttered, without looking up.
“You know what I bet Sloan would really like?” she asked. “For you to not be a dick.”
I looked up and glared at her. She had her arms crossed over her white T-shirt.
“You doing okay?” she asked dryly.
“Fine,” I muttered.
“You don’t look fine. You look like shit. And you sound like shit too, come to think of it.”
I narrowed my eyes at her through the mirror, but she leaned on the wall and crossed her legs at the ankle, unperturbed. “You’re taking an Ambien tonight and I don’t want to hear any crap about it,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re taking one every night until Sloan gets back. You’re not sleeping and it’s making you an asshole.”
I looked away from her and let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I just…I just miss her.”
“I know. She misses you too. But you need to get it together. Pissing her off isn’t gonna fix anything.”
Nothing was going to fix anything.
Last week I’d talked to Sloan about recording the bullshit my label had sent over. I was getting desperate. I needed to start working toward an end date and I still hadn’t been able to write anything worth a damn. But she’d blatantly refused to let me do it. She was so upset about it I’d had to swear never to bring it up again. She said she didn’t want me singing astronaut cats, that she’d be deeply disappointed in me if I ever compromised my music like that.
So then what was I supposed to do? What was the out? It was like no matter what I did, I was making her unhappy.
I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten. Ernie’s words, that I couldn’t have my fame and have Sloan, streamed through my head like a prophecy come to fruition. And I didn’t fucking know how to fix it. There was no solution to this.
“Can I use your phone?” I asked, looking over at Zane.
She pushed off the wall, pulled it from her pocket, and slapped it into my hand. “Don’t fucking break it.” Then she left.
I called Sloan.
She picked up on the third ring. “Zane?”
“Sloan, it’s me. Don’t hang up.”
“What do you want, Jason?” And then she started to cry.
It was the kind of crying that didn’t sound like it was beginning. It was the kind that sounded like it was continuing. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. My chest got tight and I had to clutch it with my free hand. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Sloan. You’re right. I shouldn’t be asking you to do more than you’re doing.”
“I hate this,” she sobbed. “I hate fighting with you.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” I said, a lump growing in my throat. “I just can’t handle hearing you won’t have kids with me. I already feel like I’m ruining your life…I just…I have to know we’re gonna be okay.”
I wanted to walk out of that bathroom and take the next flight to Minnesota. If I hadn’t been in the middle of a concert, I would have already been out the door, even if I got to see her for only an hour before I had to get back on a plane.
“You’re not ruining my life, Jason.” She sniffed. “I know what you want me to say to you. You want me to tell you that we can have everything. And you know what? Maybe we can’t. Maybe we just have to accept that our life isn’t conducive to certain things right now and be okay with that.”
How? How the fuck was I supposed to be okay with systematically taking everything from her?
I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to say what I’d been thinking for a while, the thing that had haunted me incessantly since the first time I noticed she wasn’t handling the road well. “Sloan…have you considered that maybe us being together isn’t the best thing for you?”
She went silent on the other end for a long moment. “Why would you say that to me?”
“You’re miserable.”
I heard her swallow in the silence. “Jason, I don’t want to hear you talking like that again. We’re not breaking up. How can you even suggest that?”
I put my forehead in my hand. “You want kids.”
“And we can have them. When we can offer them more stability.”
I shook my head. “When? Ten years from now?”
“I’ll only be thirty-six,” she said. “I won’t exactly be an old lady. You know, life doesn’t always give you what you want, Jason. Being in a relationship means compromise.”
I scoffed quietly. The only one compromising was her.
We went quiet. The audience began to chant my name. They were getting restless and I was going to have to go back.
Fuck it, let them wait.
“Why did you call me from Zane’s phone?” she asked.
“I broke mine,” I said, not volunteering the details.
She sighed. “Jason, I love you. I choose you. And I know you feel guilty because of the way things are and you don’t have to.”
I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see it. “I want you to have a life.”
“I have a life. With you.” She laughed a little. “Also, you should know that the number one reason I wouldn’t have kids with you right now is because we’re not married. Until you make an honest woman out of me, I’m not open to any negotiations.”
I could hear the smile in her voice. She was trying to cheer me up. Make light of this.
There was nothing funny about it.
I had the ring, but I wouldn’t ask her.
I didn’t want her to be like me, trapped in a long-term contract that she’d grow to regret.