Not mentioning that she’d loved her home-town and struggled to adjust to living in the big city, mostly alone with the kids. Jared’s trajectory with Rage had been so fast, catapulting him from unknown to famous in one reality show season, then on a world tour within weeks.
No mention either of how involved she’d been in the community they’d left, or whether she missed her friends, or Jared’s large family and her mother. Kayla’s brother wasn’t someone you missed.
But he wasn’t surprised she was playing it safe with feelings. How many times had he shut her down when she’d tried to tell him she was finding things hard? Don’t rain on my parade, baby. It’s all about me, finally living the dream.
He’d been annoyed by her inability to understand the immense pressures on him, without ever acknowledging she faced the same pressures in adjusting to a rock star’s lifestyle.
He’d seen the money, the new house, the cool parties as more than compensating her for having to give up her world for his. Forgetting he’d had the support of his bandmates and his mentor to guide him while his wife navigated her way mostly alone, because of his touring schedule.
Which was why he’d arranged for his family to travel on the European leg.
His wake-up call came when Kayla took their kids home early after a major fight, leaving him shell-shocked, terrified, and finally willing to take a good hard look at who he was becoming. Through the remaining weeks of the tour, he’d sworn to put her first. He’d been home for over a month now, living a “normal” family life. And his wife was faking orgasms.
He picked up the beer recommended by the waitress and knew he wouldn’t like it. A craft ale from England, served at room temperature. “You went on a tour leg with him…tell me about that.”
Ignoring the handle on the glass mug, she cradled it between her hands, absorbing the warmth. “Private jets, five-star hotels, rock-star husband…what’s there to say? I’m living the dream.”
“And yet here you are, Betty.”
“To have fun, Bob, not to bitch and moan.” Lightly said, yet he flinched. His words. There were so many he wished he could take back. Too many hurts now reliant on being forgiven.
She looked at him over the rim of her glass. He saw a spark of anger, the ash of resignation. “Besides, you wouldn’t find it interesting.”
“I would now,” he said quietly, and she assessed him. He kept himself still, kept himself open, channeled non-threatening Bob, not the guy she expected to see, her ego-driven husband.
A ghost of a smile played at the corner of her mouth, suggesting she was onto him. God, he’d missed her. “How about I talk about what I’ve learned instead, Bob?”
“Sure.” He braced himself.
“I’ve learned how to say diaper in six different languages, including the Queen’s English—nappy, couche, windel, luier, pannolino, panal…” Putting down the glass mug, she smiled at him.
He smiled back.
“I’ve learned that big league rock stars stay in exquisite hotels full of designer pieces that break easily under little hands, and that no hotel room is ever big enough for two pre-schoolers. Nor is a private plane.”
Kayla had a habit of twisting her wedding ring when she was reflecting. She touched her ring finger now and glanced down.
“I have it safe,” he said.
“I’ve learned that little kids never overcome jetlag if they’re constantly traveling and that no tour nanny—however helpful—will be on call at four a.m. when they’re wide awake and ready to start their day.”
Jared been out cold by then, finally released from the post-concert adrenaline of performing in front of fifty thousand screaming Rage fans. Kayla glanced over, checking his interest levels, and he nodded encouragement.
“I’ve learned to travel with home-brand milk formula and cereals so that when they’re starving at four a.m. I have something they’ll actually eat, and that no matter how good a party is, it’s no substitute for getting two hours extra sleep.
“I’ve learned that when it rains every day for two weeks, a hotel bathtub provides more hours of entertainment than any museum or coffee shop.”
She picked up her mulled wine and sipped it, the words flowing easily now.
“I’ve learned that London parks are full of dog poop and to carry extra kids’ shoes. I’ve learned that ten minutes of Daddy being fun—because that’s all he’s got to spare—will result in exactly two hours of follow-up whining.” She looked into her mug, frowning. “Which is weird, because an equal amount of Skype time at home while Daddy is away leaves them perfectly happy.”
Jared had forgotten the endless wet weather in Great Britain because it hadn’t mattered. To him. The same way that it hadn’t mattered that he’d revved up the kids with wild play and sugar rushes to appease his guilt at not being able to spend much time with them.
She seemed to realize who she was really talking to, because she smiled again, too brightly.