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It hasn’t been that long since we rescheduled stuff, but I can really say it was more than worth it just to be able to sleep full nights on our down days, to see Sly feeling better, and, most importantly, to see the haunted look leave my little beauty’s soulful eyes.
I’m going back to the roots of things, and I’m really enjoying every minute of it, even if we do look like a crazy space-bound caravan with our Palazzo mobile at the helm and three more luxury smaller buses that carry our crew following us on this surprisingly beat-up Italian road full of potholes and covered in dust.
We got keys to our Palazzo at the end of our UK tour. We took it for its inaugural voyage from London to our last venue in the country, in Devon. After our Home Park Stadium show in Plymouth, we left England for France and did our Paris venue, and from there, we drove to Italy.
We’re at the end of the southern leg of our European tour and just about done with Italian venues.
We did San Siro in Milan, the Stadio Olimpico in Rome, and the Verona Arena. Then we left for the Italian Riviera. We had a smaller show to do near Sanremo on a docked luxury cruise ship in the middle of the Ligurian Sea, of all things. Our fans fucking loved it, and we got to enjoy all the amenities it offered and recharge a bit on the two days off we took.
My baby has fallen in love hard with pretty much everything about the Riviera, and I’m already planning a nice long holiday for just the two of us after my band is done touring for the year.
It was our first time in this part of the country. I've got to admit, Liguria made an impression on all of us with its rugged cliffs and coves on the coastline, those nice little seaside towns and fishing villages, and all that pastel-colored architecture against the magnificent turquoise waters. I could feel the stress just ebb away from me on those shores, and my baby and I got down to some much-needed phenomenal hard fucking.
Right now, we’re still in the Riviera, but we’ll be leaving it behind for its French counterpart by tomorrow to do the rest of our Western Europe dates. We’re on our way to Nice for a show in Palais Nikaïa. It’s a smaller venue, an indoor concert hall, but we loved the idea of doing something a little more intimate for our fans after performing in front of more than 80.000 people in San Siro. We’re going to stay there just one day, and then we’ll have our show at the Matmut Atlantique in Bordeaux. That’s going to be our last date in France, and from there, we’ll be heading to Germany and our shows in Cologne, Berlin, and Frankfurt, after which we’ll get to do absolutely nothing for an entire week before our two concerts in Poland.
And when I say doing nothing, I really mean it.
I don’t think my wife and I are even going to attempt to leave our hotel room. I can’t wait.
But meanwhile, it’s not like we’re going to keep our hands off each other. Our mobile mansion affords us all the privacy we need in that sense, and even though we’ve been married almost five months, we’re still entrenched in the honeymoon phase of things —much to Rick’s and Sly’s annoyance.
I smile to myself, come to think of it, barring those four days of the month when my girl’s absolutely off limits because she gets pretty painful nasty period cramps and I’m in cuddle mode or incommand-me-I-am-your-willing-slavemode to make sure she has everything she needs, as long as we’re in the same place —which is most of the time now that she’s done with her exams— we end up tangled in each other.
We go longer than a couple of hours, and I get withdrawal symptoms. And it’s not just sexual. It’severything. My heart literally fucking hurts in my chest if I can’t at least get my eyes on her, and the pain only ever goes away when my arms are around her. I don’t know if it’s because our relationship is still new and we went long periods –or at least long for us— separated because of myBurning 21engagements and her school workload or if it’s going to be like this forever.
What I know is that I miss her like fuck when she's not around. Like right now. It doesn't matter that I was holding her less than half an hour ago; I still miss her like I would one of my limbs if I were to lose it. And I love this pain just as much as I fucking love the relief I feel when I get her back in my arms.
It’s an addictive kind of sweet sorrow. Shakespeare was definitely right.
And right now, I need her where she will always belong. In my arms again.
I takethe stairs two at a time, eager to get to my woman. My wife. I still cannot believe I have the privilege to call her mine sometimes. I’m so grateful to have her in my life, to have her love me as much as I love her that the knowledge does funny things to my heart every time I stop to think about it.
I must have really done something good in this life. There’s no other explanation for the happiness I feel and for how lucky I am.
* * *
I reachour room and find her sitting cross-legged on the massive king-sized bed in front of her iPad. She’s changed out of her jean-shorts and pastel pink crop top ensemble that was driving me insane with lust into a pair of comfortable-looking butter yellow leggings with one of my old tees that looks oversized on her, thrown over it, the half-sleeves going way past her elbows. Her little toes are wiggling as they burrow in the million-thread-count cotton of the sheets, tiny light blue toenails bright against the fabric.
She's signing quickly and smiling big. The little squeals of laughter coming from the device tell me she's Face Timing our little niece, and is just about to saybye. I catch a glimpse of Anna's tiny, rounded face and big blue eyes before they disconnect.
I slowly move into the room so as not to startle my wife. She hasn't seen me yet. For a moment, I just watch her, drinking in her beauty and in the love I feel for her. She puts away her purple tablet, sits up, and gathers her knees under her chin, pensive eyes now focused over the dancing flames of the glass-encased fireplace blazing in the corner of the bedroom, the only light in the quasi-darkness.
I can tell with utmost precision when her thoughts turn to me. A special light spreads in her eyes and over her features. A little smile curves her full lips putting her tiny, delicious dimple on display. The love and longing I can see on her face make my heart do a funny flip in my chest.
Just as I’m about to make my presence known, she turns to look at me, almost as if she could sense me. The smile on her lips grows bigger, and before I can get the “Hey, babe” completely out of my mouth, I feel her arms linked over my shoulders as she pulls me down on the bed.
She says “Hello” and plants the tiniest, softest kiss on my mouth, it’s like the flutter of butterfly wings, and as usual, the simple, unaffected touch manages to turn my inside to mush and my cock to stone in less than thirty seconds.
She pulls back a little as we lie in each other’s arms, but I bring her close again, my lips going after her, my tongue playing just past the entrance of her mouth and seeking her own.
She responds with the barest of flicks before pulling back again and making me groan.
She giggles, and I laugh, shaking my head.
"You're such a little tease," I mock-scold.
She licks her lips, eyes focused on mine to follow my words, and shrugs. “Don’t pretend like you don’t enjoy that I am, husband of mine,” she tells me with hands and voice.
