I hesitated then, fingers hovering over the keyboard, cursor blinking like it was waiting for me to decide something bigger than words. The thought had been sitting in my chest for weeks, growing roots I couldn’t ignore anymore.
“Can I tell you something that might sound… stupid?” I asked.
Cal immediately closed his notebook. No hesitation. No distraction. Just full attention. “Nothing you say is stupid. You know that.”
I took a slow breath, letting it steady the nervous flutter in my ribs. “I’ve been thinking about moving. Not now. Not anytime soon. But… someday. Oregon.”
His brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. He just watched me, attentive in that steady, grounded way he’d learned after rehab, like he was listening with his whole body, not just his ears.
“I keep seeing pictures,” I continued quietly. “Forests. Rain. Small towns where nobody cares who you used to be. I keep imagining Asher learning to walk somewhere green instead of paparazzi sidewalks. Eli having space. Maybe a little house witha garden. Something… quiet. Something that belongs to us. Not to your fame. Not to my past.”
Cal’s gaze softened, something emotional flickering there like a reflection he didn’t try to hide.
“Oregon,” he repeated slowly, like he was tasting the word, testing how it felt on his tongue. “That sounds… peaceful.”
“I don’t want to run,” I added quickly, my pulse picking up at the vulnerability of admitting it. “That’s not what this is. I just… I want a life that feels calmer. And I don’t know if LA will ever be that for me.”
He nodded, thoughtful, then leaned forward, forearms resting on the table, fingers lacing loosely together.
“The band’s already winding down,” he said carefully. “We’ve talked about a few more albums. Maybe a few tours. After that… I don’t think I want to keep chasing stages forever.”
My heart tightened at the vulnerability in his voice, at the quiet admission that fame wasn’t filling him the way it used to.
“If you moved to Oregon,” he continued slowly, “I wouldn’t want to be across the country from Asher. Or Eli. Or you.” He swallowed, eyes dropping briefly before meeting mine again. “I’ve been thinking about opening a restaurant. Small. Farm-to-table. Something local. And a music school for kids, free lessons for the ones who can’t afford it. I always pictured doing it somewhere quieter.”
My chest warmed painfully, emotion threading through me like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
“You’d… move there?” I asked softly.
“If that’s where my son is?” he said. Then, quieter, more honest than he’d ever been, “If that’s where you’re building your life… yeah. I think I would. Not to follow you. Not to pressure anything. Just… to stay close to what matters.”
Emotion caught in my throat, heavy and unexpected.
“That’s a really big thing to say,” I whispered.
“It’s a really big thing to feel,” he admitted. “I’m not asking you to factor me into that decision. You pick what’s best for you. For them. I’ll figure out how to fit around it. That’s… kind of what love looks like for me now.”
I stared at him, overwhelmed by how different he was from the man I’d once begged to choose me, how much quieter and stronger his love had become.
“I’m proud of you,” I said quietly.
His jaw flexed slightly, emotion flashing across his face before he masked it with a small nod. “Means a lot coming from you. More than you probably know.”
Asher started crawling at five months, fast, determined, straight toward Cal every time he walked in the door, like he had a built-in radar for his father’s presence. He looked more like his dad every day: dark hair curling at the ends, dimples when he smiled, that same serious little frown when he was concentrating on something like grabbing a toy or attempting to eat furniture.
Cal called him “mini-me” and pretended to hate it, rolling his eyes dramatically whenever I said it out loud, but I caught him staring at Asher like he couldn’t believe he’d helped make something so perfect, so innocent, so untouched by the mess that had created him.
One afternoon Cal was on the floor with Asher, rolling a ball back and forth across the rug. Asher giggled, loud, delighted, drool collecting at the corner of his mouth, and Cal laughed too, the sound deep and unguarded, filling the house in a way music never quite did.
“You’re such a daddy’s boy,” I teased, sitting on the couch with my textbook balanced on my knee.
Cal looked up, eyes soft, a smudge of spit-up on his shoulder he hadn’t noticed yet. “I’ll take it.”
Eli burst in then, backpack slung over one shoulder, sneakers squeaking across the hardwood. “Maya’s coming over. Can we order pizza?”
“Sure,” I said, not looking up from my notes. “But homework first.”
He groaned like I’d personally ruined his teenage reputation but sat at the table anyway, already texting her while pulling out his math book.
