The Tour (18 page)

Part way up, I ask to rest. I sit down on one of the steps while Kolton and Devon lean against the metal inside. The only light is coming from the stairs; the only sound is our collective breathing.

We start to climb again and make it to a tiny spiraled staircase that leads into the crown. Kolton pushes me up the last step and I feel the world spin, so I lean my hand on the metal between two of the windows.

There’s a man inside, a guide, wearing a brown uniform. “Is this your first time?” he asks.

I hear the wind, sounding like coffee brewing in a coffee pot. I find my feet again and come up to one of the dirty windows. They’re pushed open from the bottom, so you can look straight down. But when I do, my feet tingle and the world spins. I close my eyes and feel the breeze, hear it once more. I feel Kolton come up behind me and with him here to support me, I’m able to open my eyes.

Out in the distance is the island of Manhattan and, behind me, Kolton takes my hips and leans in until we’re touching. I feel his warm breath on the back of my neck and the side of my cheek. He reaches around and takes my hand. It reminds me of one night when Kolton texted me part of a song. It was about holding my hand and making me his. It said,
I wish I could take you places and hold your hand, and you’d be mine in some time.

“It’s spectacular, Mia,” he says, sounding happy. I turn to see his face and he’s smiling—he got his wish. His cheeks are a healthy bright pink and his beard isn’t as wild. They’d groomed him before the performance last night; I almost miss the scruffiness he had going on before. “I’ve never been up here before,” he whispers, and I turn back toward the window. I feel a shiver go up and down my spine, settling in my stomach.

A few other people come up into the crown with us and he stiffens. “Are you ready to go back down?” I ask.

“Did you want a picture taken?” the guide asks and I nudge him with my elbow.

“Yeah, thanks,” Kolton says, handing him his phone. We pose for two shots, but I wonder if anyone will even believe it’s us in our disguises. Hats and sunglasses.

“Some people like to get a picture of her arm and part of her crown. Right here,” the guide motions toward the window nearest him. But we’ll have to walk by the other people who are now taking selfies. We slide against the railing and stand next to the guide. Kolton puts his arm out the window, as the guide helps him. From where I stand, her arm is just in view. She looks like pieces of metal bolted in place.

When he pulls his arm back in, he shows me the picture. “Riley is gonna love this,” I say, feeling his arm reach around my back so he can hold me close.

“Next time, she’ll be tall enough,” he adds. I look over at the other group, and they’re busy comparing the view from the various windows. Devon is standing guard near the staircase.

“Did you see, Devon?” I ask and he shakes his head. His teeth are clenched, and his eyes look steely and detached. He’s on duty. It’s probably nerve wracking to be up here with us when that group could recognize us and freak out. “Let’s go show this to Riley,” I coax Kolton.

He nods and looks at Devon. Something silent passes between them. Kolton takes my hand and positions himself in front of me before he takes a step down. Then Devon follows behind me. I realize they’ve sandwiched me in. In fact, on the way up, Devon was in front of me and Kolton was behind. They’re both protecting me.

I feel a smile transforming my face. The steps down are a lot easier than the steps up. I trip once, but catch myself on the rails. Devon’s breathing behind me is a little worrisome. He is an older man and without a gym to workout in for these last weeks since the fire, it has been a tough work out for all of us.

In fact, I think I’ve put on some weight. My hips feel rounder, my ass a little bigger. Sitting around the house will do that to you.

As we finally make it down the last round of stairs, we find the rest of our group sitting around a table eating the food we’d brought. I think the blanket might have been uncomfortable. I remember Deloris telling me her back’s been hurting from sleeping on the twin bed in Kolton’s baby room. “Seagulls!” Riley yells when she sees me. “They dive bombed us.”

“What do you mean?” I question.

“They took my whole piece of apple! Then another one took Deloris’ chicken wing!” I look up and see a few more stalking us.

“I’m hungry, though. Do you think we should risk it?” I ask her. She makes a sideways smirk and shrugs her shoulders.

“If you’re brave.”

“Are you brave enough, Kolton?” I ask. He says nothing, but gets a plate and hands it to me, then one to Devon, and gets one for himself. Above us, some seagulls dance and squawk.

“Ladies first,” he says. So I grab the sandwich marked ‘vegetarian’ and some potato salad, along with apple slices.

I sit down next to Riley, lean in and say, “I think he’s brave enough, don’t you?” and she giggles.

“Keeping secrets, girls?” he says as though he’s mad, but he’s not.

“Never,” I claim with mock distress. But the reality that very real secrets lay between us isn’t lost on me. And, by the distant look on his face as he stares off toward the city of Manhattan, it’s not lost on him either.

Missed Notes

“W
hen are we going back?” I ask as I stand here, my muscles sore, looking out over the city from the window in the master bedroom portion of our huge suite. I hope he says never. Although his parents’ house is a refuge, it also feels like a cage. I’d gotten used to living on top of the world in his apartment. This feels a lot like that.

“That’s what I was going to talk to you about,” he says, sauntering into the beige and black marble bathroom, and I hear him turning the water faucet on for the enormous tub. I walk toward the doorway as he adds some of the fancy Oscar De La Renta bath gel to the water. Immediately, I smell spice and florals, and my muscles ask to be soothed by it. I feel it in my neck and shoulders, my legs, and my back.

He dims the lights, and I watch as he takes off his grey sweatshirt and white, long sleeve shirt underneath and tosses it on the floor. His abs constrict and tighten, his hips angling perfectly into his loose jeans. I have to swallow. “What did you need to tell me?” I ask.

“We can’t stay much longer. But I want to enjoy this while we can.” I follow his lead and pull the black tunic over my head, dropping it onto the back of the chair. He bites his bottom lip and his eyes devour me, taking in my every curve. He makes me feel so desirable, so sexy. He sits on the edge of the tub and his hands come to rest on his thighs. I have to suck in a breath when his palms and long splayed fingers run the length of his legs. “And soon you’re leaving on tour,” he says, his tone somber.

His eyes stay on mine for so long that it begins to hurt deep inside. He watches the changes in me. My heart beats for him fast and sure. I feel my cheeks heat up with a blush. He blinks slowly, and when he opens his eyes, he says, “Unbutton your pants.” I swallow hard and move my hand to my top button. As I loosen it, he moves his hand to his button, too.

I pull the zipper down and wiggle out of my jeans, sliding them down my legs. When I come up and step out of them, he takes himself out of his jeans. Seeing the way he handles himself has me shaking with need. The way he moves his hand up and down, I have to close my eyes or I feel like I’ll burn up. Combust.

“Pull my pants down, Mia,” he directs. I come to stand in front of him, kneel, and do as I’m asked. “Take me into your mouth,” he breathes.

It’s been so long since he’s let me return the favor, and I lead with my tongue. He tastes like salt and man. As I take him deep, his head tilts backward; his eyes shut so hard there are deep ridges around his eyes.

I feel the power I have over him in this moment. How much he needs me and wants me. He pulls me up so I’m standing, turns off the water, and removes my bra with a flick of his fingers. Running the tips of his fingers down my legs, he removes my panties. I’m breathless as he pulls his finger up and down my spine and then nips my earlobe with his teeth. “I never want to forget the way you look right now,” he praises me, but there’s fear in his voice, in his eyes when he pulls back and looks me up and down. It’s like he thinks he could really lose me.

He steps into the water and helps me in, too. Our lights are dim inside the bathroom, but anyone who steps on their balcony next door to us might see us. I reach for the white roman shade and, after it falls, he kisses me, slow and deep, his tongue coaxing me, leading me, forcing a response. He lowers us into the steamy water and then pulls me onto him by my hips.

As he fills me slow and deep, my back arches. His mouth and tongue on my neck. “Would you love me, Mia,” he moans out. “No matter what?” he questions, our skin hot, and the steam rises up around us like a fog. Then he moves down and his teeth sink into the rise and fall of my breast. The water circles around us, like the confusion in my mind.

The scent of musk and primrose fill the air, and the pressure of his thumb rubbing circles, his mouth as it forms around my nipple, pulling, builds me up and up. “Promise me you’ll understand,” he murmurs, and when I think he can’t be deeper inside, he rocks his hips again. Agonizing pressure, building and building. I can’t process his confession now. My senses are too open. I am undone.

It’s as if there is a cord wrapped around my heart, constricting and plugged into his. I hold him as he empties himself into me, rock my hips and clench down. “My love will never end,” I reassure him, as he cries out, his voice mixing with the steam.

And as we cling to one another, I worry how I’ll ever leave this man—especially when we’re so new and fragile. In this moment, I realize there is a difference between needing and wanting. And I’m scared that he needs me to make up for losing his parents because I’ve lost mine, too.

We have to be two whole people for this to work, but we’re broken. And when I leave, with all these secrets between us, how can we heal? How can we become whole enough to love with our whole hearts?

*     *     *

He dries me off with the softest towel I’ve ever felt, while letting water drip down him in long streams. I press my finger tip along the scar above his heart. It looks so much better—maybe his heart is healing, too. I take another towel and dry him off. And then he picks me up, like a bride over the threshold, and carries me to the turned down bed. As I get under the covers, my sensitive naked skin is so awake to the feeling of the soft, cool sheets, and the heavy warmth of the white duvet.

He climbs over me and nestles the two of us under the covers. My legs are just beginning to feel sore from that climb. Three hundred and forty-four steps. “What did you mean, Kole?” I ask, worrying about his cryptic confession. My arm stretches up and I run my fingers through his still wet hair.

“Hmmm?” he mumbles and opens his eyes, heavy with sleep.

“Never mind,” I say, nuzzling my nose into the spot just under his chin. When I look down, he’s moved the sheet enough I can see him in all his glory. He’s beautiful and strong, and healthy. I lay my hand on his chest and listen to his heart beat and the ebb and flow of his breathing. I decide I’ll ask him later, just before I drift away.

*     *     *