Page 198 of The Comedown

“Just…hold on. That’s not what I wanted to lead with.”

“What did you want to lead with?”

“Us.”

I eye him. “Is there an us anymore?”

“Come on.”

He shows the way to a room on the first floor, my stomach twisting into a pretzel as he swipes the keycard to let us inside. The last time we spoke was in a hotel room.

“There’ll always be an us, Poohbear.” He lifts his t-shirt up, the t-shirt I gave him when we were still on tour together. It has my side profile on it and I’ve got my lips around a lollipop. Nothing says popstar like sucking on a lollipop.

Pointing at my autograph tattooed on his chest, he says, “You have my heart, remember?”

I pull his shirt down, leaving my fingertips hooked into the waistband of his jeans.

“And the rest of you?”

“You already know every fucking inch of me belongs to you.”

“I meant you. How are you?”

“I’m clean. Been clean for four months, two days, thirteen hours, and like…” He checks his diamond-encrusted watch. “…fifty-seven minutes.”

“Is that true?”

He shrugs, grinning. “I don’t know. People always seem to remember that shit down to the second, don’t they?”

We both laugh and it feels good. Freeing.

“No, but for real. I’ve been clean and sober for four months.”

“That’s amazing. Congratulations.” My arms beg to hug him, to wrap him up and never let go, but it still feels too soon. He looks and sounds like my Julian, but different. Better.

“What happened?” I ask again.

“I just… I wanted to be sober for you, but I didn’t have you, so I just kept going back.”

“Julian.”

“I know, it wasn’t the right reason. You were right. But hear me out. I was locked in that addict mentality. Any reason I had for getting sober was a reason for using, too. You not being with me made me want to try, but you not being with me made me want to give in just as bad. It’s easier to give in, Collette. It’s so fucking easy. So I did. Over and over again until I landed my ass in jail.”

“How’d David find you?”

“I found him. I knew, or I thought, you were still living there, so I called him. To see how you were doing, how Holter was doing. I was, uh, I was kinda hoping you were there, at his house, eating one of those family dinners yinz would always talk about, and I’d get to hear your voice maybe. You know, in the background.” His eyes grow red and watery.

“You used your one phone call to ask about me?”

“Yeah.” Stepping closer, his breathing deepens, changing the atmosphere. “There’s nothing else worth talking about.”

“Julian,” I warn with a twist of my head to keep my mouth from going straight to his. “What changed?”

“Me. Finally. After hearing about you skipping out on tour, and finding your own place with Holter, I hung up with David and something just clicked. I spent that night in jail, realizing where I’d end up if I didn’t stop. The next morning David surprised the fuck outta me by bailing my ass out, then he took me to his place and I saw where I could end up if I did stop.”

“He has a pretty good setup,” I agree. One I coveted every time I saw it.

“I’m done touring. I’m done making songs I hate. I want to make music my way, on my schedule, like David.”