Page 102 of Anything But Lonely

But I can’t.

Because I don’t know what happens when we take off the rose-colored glasses. When we’re off the road and back to our real lives—where I’m just a freelance artist and a part-time barista, where Mateo is trying to find where he fits in a world without Cross My Heart.

I don’t know how to answer his question because I don’t know where any of this leaves us.

So I settle on the only truth I know. “I hope so.”

“Part of me still thinks you’re actually messing up my hair when you do this every night,” Mateo says, his mouth just inches from mine from where we’re hidden in the stage wing.

“Ems wouldn’t do that,” Crew says from just below us, holding his oversized headphones in his hand while Cross My Heart waits for their cue, the backstage buzzing with everyone preparing for tonight’s concert.

“Oh, I think she would,” Mateo laughs, bending down to pick up Crew, balancing him on his arms as the two of them peek out into the crowd.

Someone from the stage crew announces the five-minute warning, so Mateo sets Crew down, tapping on the headphones in his hands. Crew smiles and puts them on, knowing the show is about to start.

Crew grabs my hand, ready to lead us to our spot closer to the front of the stage, just off the wing, and I turn over my shoulder, whispering a quick good luck to Mateo rather than telling him “don’t mess up” like I usually do—but for some reason, tonight, I can’t look him in the eye when I do.

“Hey,” Mateo says, catching my arm as Crew’s hand leaves mine to try and reach Theo and Silas’ high-fives, so I turn to face Mateo.

“What’s wrong?” Mateo asks.

I shake my head, pasting on a smile. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Don’t do that,” he whispers. “You can tease me; you can tell me to fuck off. Hell, you can do your whole “don’t be so dramatic, rockstar,” he says, trying—and failing—to imitate my voice, “but don’t lie to me.”

I look over my shoulder to make sure Crew is still with Theo and Silas just before I feel a hand below my chin, urging me to turn back.

“Look at me,” Mateo offers, and the steadiness in his voice is refreshing. It’s like he’s allowing me a minute to not be the one holding it all together.

“Just feeling a little blue tonight,” I answer, deciding to go with a half-truth.

“Why?” He drops his hand to his side, and I immediately miss the warmth of his touch.

I try to find the words to explain how I feel without confessing something I don’t think I’m ready to even admit to myself.

Am I going to see you once Daddy is done singing?

I wrap my arms around myself. My skin feels prickly with vulnerability, like you can see right through me.

“It’s all almost over.” There’s a crack in my voice, and I don’t even know what the it I’m referring to is, but with the way Mateo is looking at me, it’s like he understands without me having to say.

There’s a soft smile on his face as he leans in a little closer. “I’d argue it’s only just begun.”

The stage lights go down, and Theo, Silas, and Eddie make their way on stage, and I reach my hand out instinctively, feeling Crew’s fingers in mine—finding each other in the darkness.

The three start a rendition of Cross My Heart’s opening song, and the crowd is going absolutely wild.

The closer this farewell tour gets to the end, the crazier the crowds get—like a growing crescendo to the bittersweet end.

I hear the beats leading up to Mateo’s cue as he tears his gaze from mine, turning to face the stage, his shoulders rising high with a deep breath before he exhales.

The music builds slowly, signaling Mateo's entrance.

He marches straight to the microphone stand set out just for him, the crowd somehow getting even louder as they make out his silhouette. The screams echo through the arena, thousands of voices rising to meet him before he's even sung a single word.

And then he does.

His voice pours through the speakers, wrapping around me from every direction.