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A loud bullhorn startles us both. Jesus. It’s just past nine a.m. The influencer house next door begins its daily assault on our little oasis. House music thumps to life. Loud, raucous voices can be heard just below us on the beach. Connor lifts me off him and wordlessly hands me my joggers. He tucks himself into his jeans.
“Little feckin’ bastards,” he mutters when he holds out his hand. I take it and we head up to the house. Yolanda is waiting with the boys dressed for the park. She reaches for her sweater, but Connor holds up his hand. “Maybe you can box up some of the clothes they’ve outgrown for the donation bin? Barry and I will take the boys this morning.”
She gives him a puzzled look but heads to the nursery.
“Thank you,” I say when she’s out of earshot, feeling a bit ashamed that I had an iota of weirdness.
He doesn’t make me feel foolish. Instead, he leans down and kisses me. “You go kick ass, my love. Your tribe of men will be here when you get back.”
Our talk and sexcapade gives me a boost. Now I’m ready to take on the world. I’ve always been ambitious. My ambition has led to great success.
But having the love of a man like Connor behind me?
I truly feel like I can do anything.
SupportingRonni’s career and putting mine on the back burner is not too shabby. A man could get used to it, so he could. At least I could. Spending all day with my wee lads is more fun than I ever thought it could be.
For the past several weeks, we’ve been living in Vancouver BC in a two-bedroom suite at the Sutton La Grande Residence. Our little entourage takes up an entire floor. Yolanda has her own one-bedroom. Ronni’s personal assistant, Paxton, has another. Our security boyo, Barry, has the fourth. Yolanda and Paxton are now BFFs. Between the two of them, they’ve been phenomenal in helping us manage Ronni’s brutal filming and production schedule.
I’m hopeful my pep talked helped. Although she always seems stressed, she’s juggling both the series and preproduction for the movie like the champ she is.
As for me? It’s not bad living in the middle of a big city. LTZ stopped here on tour, but I’ve not spent much time in Vancouver here even though it’s so close to Seattle. Now that my schedule is so flexible, immersing myself in such a thriving, cosmopolitan location is an exciting experience.
With Barry in tow, Tristan, Torin, and I spend clear days taking a dander around Stanley Park, eating lunch on Granville Island, or strolling along the pathway by Coal Harbor. When it’s pissing down, we duck into the aquarium or Science World. Sometimes we stay in our hotel suite in loungewear all day.
At night, once the boys are asleep and Yolanda’s on nanny duty, I sometimes nip out to the pub for a Guinness. Visit with some of my fellow musician friends who live here. Just last night I hung out with Brody Mason, who manages both Dirty and the Players, bands we’ve played with on and off throughout the years. We mostly caught up, but I walked away with excellent perspective on how to vet new management for LTZ.
Even with a little business thrown in, all in all Vancouver’s been like a vacation. A vacation with a feckin’ amazing opportunity to immerse myself into my boys’ lives each day.
It’s the one thing I stressed about when Ronni got pregnant. LTZ spends months on end on the road, and I refuse to miss my kids growing up. I’ve never felt love like I do for my wee lads. Fatherhood is a tremendous thing.
Tristan is slightly bigger than Torin. He’s run the show from the day and hour he came out of Ronni’s womb. Now that they’re getting older and interactive, he’s the boss. Just as I predicted. Tristan decides what games they’ll play. He picks the books. He was always the first to nurse, and now he’s the first to eat. Torin is laid back. He watches his brother and follows suit.
The one thing I’m a bit glum about is Ronni's missing so many things in their little lives. She's already gutted about it. I try not to go on and on about each new milestone. It’s not like she has a choice, there's no reason for me to make her feel worse than she already does.
Tonight, she's off early. Which, for her, means eight p.m. I’ve ordered dinner from the hotel restaurant. The doorman is keeping an eye out for her and will signal the kitchen to deliver it once she’s home. The boys have been bathed and are now down for the night. I’ve got roses set up on the dining room table. Candles lit. A little rosé on ice.
I might not be the most romantic bloke around, but there’s something to be said for taking extraordinary care of your woman when she’s worked hard all day.
Shortly after eight thirty, I’m in the bathroom running her a bubble bath when I hear the key card. “Connor? What’s all this? Where are you?”
“I’m in here.” I swish my hand in the water to test the temperature. The lemony-lavender bubbles fill the air with a fresh, soothing scent. Ronni appears in the doorway, looking like the day’s flattened her. “Come take a bath, my love. I’ll wash your back.” I hold my hand out.
“It smells amazing.” Like a mermaid to water, she moves toward the oversized tub. I swoop her into my arms and rain soft kisses along her cheeks. Taste her lips. I deepen our kiss until she literally melts into me.
She’s already shoeless, so I set her down and peel her tight, black jeans down her legs, taking her tiny black thong along for the ride. Unclasp her black bra. Slide my palms up her waist and tug her black t-shirt over her head. When she’s fully undressed, I pick her back up and place her into the bubbles. Take off my own t-shirt and sit on the tile ledge beside her.
“Connor, this is heaven. Pure heaven. I was about to tell you I had work to do tonight, but no. Just no. I need this.” She sinks lower so just her eyes and forehead are visible.
I grab a little pink puff and squeeze some lemon-vanilla body gel on it. Dunk it in the water and begin to wash her. Ronni’s eyes remain closed as I cleanse her inch by glorious inch. When I’m done, I wonder if she’s asleep, so I whisper, “Mae, are you hungry?”
“Famished. Utterly and totally famished. I could eat an entire pizza myself. That’s how hungry I am.” She doesn’t bother opening her eyes.
“Up, you.” I kiss her forehead. “Let me dry you off.”
I help her step up and out from the water. Her rosy-pink nipples pucker when the cool air hits them. As I towel her off, it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to bend down and taste them, but this isn’t about my desires tonight. This is about taking care of my woman, who's clearly been zapped of all energy. I wind her hair up in a towel. Help her slip into the oversized, cozy bathrobe.
By the time we’re done, Barry let the hotel staff in, and dinner is set up on the dining table. “Connor, are you serious?” Ronni’s eyes are wide when I lead her out to the living room.
