My heart slams to a stop. I know this man like I know my own skin. Something’s not right. I take a few steps back inside the closet until I’m standing in front of him. I step between his legs, forcing the muscled thighs to widen and bracket me. I slip one hand behind his neck and the other cups his jaw, tilting his head up until our gazes lock.
“Tell me,” I whisper, searching his eyes for the answer he hasn’t offered yet.
“I thought you had a meeting.” His hands slide up my thighs and he squeezes my ass.
“Five minutes. I can give you five minutes.”
He nods but gently pushes me away before standing and heading toward our bedroom.
“We need more than that,” he says. “I’ll wait.”
“No. Tell me.” I’m nipping at his heels, and grab his elbow, turning him back to face me. “Baby, what is it?”
“It’s what I said.” He reaches up and spears his fingers into the hair brushing my shoulders. “I miss you.”
“But I’m right—”
“Don’t say you’re right here,” he interrupts sharply. “You know that isn’t what I mean, Bris.”
“Sex?” I ask, a frown knitting my brows. “Is this because we went a week without having sex?”
“That’s just a symptom.” He caresses my cheekbone with his thumb. “This is not what I signed up for, babe, and I’m not gonna tolerate it.”
“Not tolerating what?”
“Half measures. Glimpses of you. Snatches of time. Weekly fucks. That is not who we are, and I won’t settle for it.”
“It’s a season,” I say gently. “Everyone has kids and a job and commitments that pull them in different directions for certain seasons.”
“We don’t have to. I love our kids. I’d give my left nut and my whole life for them. You know that, but they aren’t the reason I married you.”
“But, Grip—”
“And I love my career. Love performing and doing all the things I get to do, the things you help make happen for me, but I don’t want those things more than I want you.”
“I get that, but—”
“If we aren’t first, nothing else feels right, and I want to adjust things before they ever feel wrong.”
“Agreed.” I finally get a word in. “After the tour—”
“No, before the tour,” he cuts in softly. “On the tour.”
I tip my head back to study the implacable lines of his face.
“What do you mean on the tour?” I ask. “I was thinking I would work from New York while you’re away. So what do you mean on the tour?”
His beautifully sculpted mouth tightens and turns down at the corners.
“I want you and the kids to come on tour with me.”
My eyes widen and a frown pulls my eyebrows low.
“Babe, there’s so much going on. I can’t possibly drop everything to trot off after you around the world.”
“I’m not asking you to drop everything,” he says, his voice taut with irritation. “And I sure as hell would never ask you to trot, but you have to admit we’ve been seeing less of each other.”
“I’ve got shit to do, Grip.”
“So do I, Bris, but none of it is more important than this.” He presses my hand to his heart, which thuds the rhythm of his love and devotion against my palm. “More important than us.”
“Of course not.” I step closer, resting my forehead against his chin. “Of course not, but we have responsibilities. We can’t just—”
His thumb lifts my chin so we’re staring at each other.
“We can do whatever the fuck we want to do,” he says decisively.
He dips his head and seals his lips over mine, invading my mouth with powerful strokes of his tongue until my knees go weak and my bones melt. By the time he’s done, only his wide hands holding my hips and my fingers clinging to his shoulders keep me standing.
He bends to leave kisses on my neck. I tilt my head back so he can lick me, bite me, whatever he sees fit to do. His lips brush my ear with feather-soft words.
“I pulled out of the campus tour,” he whispers, sending a shockwave over me.
I jerk back, peering up into his face. He and Dr. Hammond, his former professor, have continued the Contagious campus tours, raising awareness and money for community jail funds and legal representation for the wrongly accused. It’s vital work that I know gives Grip a sense of purpose like nothing else does.
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s important. You have to do it.”
“It is important,” he agrees. “And I will do it. Later.”
“This is just a season, Grip.”
“Exactly. For this season, I can’t do the tours. Not and grind in the studio for this record and prepare for this tour and be the father I need to be.” His dark eyes caress my face. “Be the husband I need to be, which of everything, is my most important role. We only get this life together, Bris, and I don’t accept that there’s a season where you and I aren’t as close as we can possibly be. There can be a season where I’m less active in the issues that I care about. There can be a season where I don’t record as much or where I don’t tour. But there will not be a season where we miss each other.”
A dark chuckle vibrates from his chest to mine before he adds, “Or only have sex once a week.”
I swallow, emotion scalding my throat. There are so many things I’d have to adjust to take our family on tour with Grip. So many responsibilities I’d have to delegate. So many opportunities I might miss.
“Just think about it.” Grip drops a kiss onto my lips and swats my butt lightly. “Don’t be late. Go get Kai that movie.”
I’d forgotten all about the meeting.
“Okay, yeah.” I step back, slanting a glance up at him. “Tell me we’re okay, Grip. I can’t—”
I look down at the floor and shake my head, unable to wrap my mind or heart around us being on the outs.
“We’re okay,” he reassures me. “Hey, look at me.”
When I do, I see the open honesty in his face.
“We’re okay, but I’m gonna make sure we stay that way. I don’t want to drift, Bris. This business breaks marriages. You know that. I’m protecting us. I’ve pulled out of the campus tour. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I nod, stepping away to grab my purse and my iPad from the bedside table where I left them.
“Frieda’s here for the kids,” I toss over my shoulder.
“Oh, I’ll send her home.”
“Send her home?” I stop and turn. “I thought you had a meeting this morning?”
“I told them I’d call in.” He shrugs and offers a rueful grin. “I’ve been gone too much.”
I nod, wondering if maybe I’ve been gone too much, too.
Three
Bristol
“Your brother’s gonna kill you.” Kai laughs when we reach our cars in the parking lot. “He loves me too much, and we have sex a lot, so I’m safe. But you? You, he’s gonna kill.”
I chuckle, clicking my car unlocked and propping my hip against the hood.
“Hey, you just scored a role in one of the biggest movies of the year,” I say. “Rhyson will be proud and happy for you.”
Fingers crossed.
“He will be.” Kai nods, her dark hair blowing across her face. “You got them down to partial nudity, which is more of a concession than I expected.”
“Well, the director really wants you for this role.” A cynical grin tweaks my lips. “And he doesn’t want to alienate one of the most powerful men in this town, your husband.”
Kai smiles and rolls her eyes.
“Well, Rhyson will be happy for me,” she says. “That’s part of loving someone, right? Wanting to see their dreams realized. I want everything for him, and he wants everything for me, as long as there is no full-frontal involved.”
It occurs to me that Rhyson and Kai are two high-powered entertainers making their family and their careers work. Maybe she has some insight.
“Kai, can I ask your advice on something?”
She looks at me curiously. I’m not really one to seek advice from people. I’m usually barking orders and telling everyone else what they should do. Know-it-all is a prominent strand in my DNA.
“Sure,” she says, an eager note in her voice. “What’s up?”
“You had a hit album and were doing Broadway shows, and Rhyson had so much going on with his career. Did you ever feel like you were . . . I don’t know. Missing each other?”