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How often do you find someone like this who gives and gives and gives, never thinking to take in return? How often do you come upon an innocent who wants you for who you are, and now the wealth, fame, and hullaballoo surrounding celebrity?
Oh shit.
How the hell are we supposed to give this up?
It would be a lot harder than anticipated for sure.11KateThe east coast was the best coast. I giggled to myself and climbed up the last steps to my parents’ little apartment in Brooklyn.
“Hey, Miss Kate. Good to have you back.” Little Mrs. Murtz called out to me from her stoop next door. She had been on that stoop since I’d known the elderly woman.
“Thank you, Mrs. Murtz. Good to be back.”
It was nice to be back home, but it was nothing compared to being on the road with the guys. Because even though I was about to have dinner with my parents for the first time in months, I just wanted to run back to our hotel room and fall into bed with my big alphas. Those blue eyes made me swoon.
Plus, it wasn’t all about the sex. As much as I loved the physical aspects of our relationship, there was so much more. Don’t get me wrong, the intimacy was incredible, but the guys are amazing in other ways too. I missed Gunner practicing on guitar even though he’d never play it at a show, Brody asking for my opinion on his new lyrics, or even simply playing cards with Hudson.
Hopefully, they missed me. I knew that I missed them. My heart swooned, wondering what they were doing at the moment. Is this what women in relationships do? Is this what it feels like to be married?
Because I think of Gunner, Hudson and Brody 24/7. They’re my everything, and I love all aspects of being with the men. But marriage? That’s a long shot.
I shook my head, even though nobody could have heard my thought. It was dumb. A four-way marriage was a reality that could never be.
Frowning at my own stupid thoughts, I rang my parents’ doorbell. Right away, the door flew open and my mother appeared. She had been waiting for me.
“Kate!” the bespectacled woman squealed.
Ethel fell all over me with hugs and another cry of happiness. As usual, she smelled like home-cooked food and sweet comfort. Her round face was full of smiles and pride.
“Mom!” We hugged and grinned at each other in the doorway. “I missed you!”
Hard Fought was so incredible. I had been so focused on them that I hadn’t thought about what I left behind.
“Oh, my sweet Kate!” she exclaimed, pulling me in for another hug. “We missed you so, so, so much!”
“Missed you guys too,” I replied, smiling. “How have you been?”
“Always good, Kate.” Mom pulled me all the way into the apartment and started chattering a mile a minute about seeing the band on TV and watching the crowd at the televised concerts. It was all to catch a glimpse of my face. “I never see you! The crowds are too big, maybe we missed you on TV?”
A giggle escaped me. She was so sweet.
“You know, I’m always in the background, Mom. Never on screen or anyplace people can actually see me. That’s what it means to be an assistant.”
“I figured, but it didn’t hurt to look for my baby.” She took my light coat and hung it up. “One day, we both might get a surprise and see you standing in the middle of them in bright, living color.” A mischievous grin dimpled her cheeks.
My curls flew as I shook my head and giggled. “Mom, please.”
“Sometimes us moms just know things,” Ethel chortled, flashing me a quick wink.
Once we got to the living room, I gave her the canvas bag of goodies that I’d lugged all the way from the West Coast. It contained some of my mother’s favorites: red wine from Napa, fresh-baked bread from San Francisco, and a California-style cookbook.
“Picked some things up for you while I was in San Francisco. Hope you like it.”
“Thanks, honey. You know you didn’t have to,” she said, but she looked so happy with her big, sparkling eyes. That was what made it all worth it.
She looked through the bag and squealed. “Real sourdough! You’re such a good daughter.” Mom liked to eat as much as me. It was one of many things that we had in common.
Still gushing about the gifts, Ethel rushed ahead to put the canvas bag in the kitchen as I trailed behind her.
The apartment was clean as always and neat as a pin, but things jumped out at me that I never noticed before.
It was small. The apartment was full of cozy, familiar knickknacks and the worn-but-comfortable furniture that had looked used even when I was young. Touring with Hard Fought had shown me a different type of lifestyle. The home was where I had grown up, but lavish hotel rooms made the Brooklyn apartment seem miniscule. It was tiny, there were no two ways about it.
