I don’t know who to watch: Liam or Noah. My watery eyes are moving back and forth between the two loves of my life as they play this song for me. Harrison and Jimmy have chimed in and are playing the melody behind my guys, with Harrison even singing backup. The group effort isn’t lost on me, even though I’m focused on the Westbury men.
Before I know it, the song is over and I’m bum rushing the stage, pulling both of them into my arms. Noah’s arms are wrapped around my waist as I cry into Liam’s shirt. So much for him looking dapper tonight, now he looks like a snot rag. Maybe that will deter any women from speaking to him on the plane...
“I don’t know what to say. Is this why you wouldn’t play in front of me?” I ask Noah.
He looks up, still holding on to my waist. “Yes. Dad tried to get me to sing, but that’s his thing.”
“It was beautiful, thank you so much.” I let my fingers comb through his hair, which is just slightly longer than Liam’s right now. He looks more like his dad with each passing day. I know deep in my heart if Liam hadn’t come back when he did, I’d be looking for him.
When I glance at Liam, he’s beaming with joy at Noah and his accomplishment.
“Thank you for this. I really needed it.”
“Anything for the woman we love,” Liam says, kissing me chastely on the lips.
The crowd behind us erupts in a cheer, much to my embarrassment. Noah takes my hand and leads me off stage so the guys can put on the show they promised their fans. Peyton slides one seat over to the left, instead of moving closer to her mom. She wants to sit by Noah who is all too eager to start talking to her. I know there’s going to come a time when he won’t have anything to do with her and that’s going to be hard on Peyton. Not sure how Katelyn will prepare her for that day. I just pray it doesn’t happen anytime soon.
The motorcycle speeds by, dangerously close to the limousine. Sam is yelling at the driver to step on it while the driver is cussing at her in some language I’ve never heard before. We’re a wreck waiting to happen.
“The windows are tinted and we’re over an hour early for our flight. What’s the rush, Sam?” Harrison asks, as he pulls the strap on his seatbelt. His gesture reminds me to put mine on, and I kick JD in the shoe and motion for him to buckle up as well. I can feel Sam glaring at me, but I don’t care. I’m not a free spirit like her.
“It’s the rush, Harrison. You’re rockers. Live on the edge, be free, and take a fucking risk every now again.”
“I have a son, which means he needs me.” Harrison pushes the button that drops the window between us and the driver. “Slow down my friend. We’re in no hurry. Don’t listen to the crazy bitch.”
“Ah fuck,” I mumble as Sam’s face turns red. If she were a cartoon character, steam would be billowing out of her ears right now. Harrison doesn’t give a shit though, and neither should I, but I’m always the one that gets stuck with her.
As luck would have it, she doesn’t say anything. For now, that’s a good thing, but he’ll likely pay later. Harrison has asked me repeatedly what I see in her. Truth is, I’m not sure. Most of the time she’s a ragging bitch, but other times she’s sweet and can be one of the nicest people I know. I don’t know if she’s suffering from a bad case of PMS or what, but she and Harrison do not get along.
The second we pull up to the terminal my seatbelt is off and I’m out the door. I’m not waiting for the driver to come around to let me out. That’s not who I am even if that’s who Sam wants me to be. I can also carry my own bags and wheel my own suitcase, another habit that drives her batty.
At LAX the paps are everywhere. It’s harder than hell to get through the terminal without getting your picture taken. And there’s no point in fighting it. So while the car is being unloaded, Harrison, JD and I stand here with our bags in our hands while our manager is barking orders at anyone who will listen. Why we’re flying when the rest of our crew is on the tour bus, I have no idea, but I don’t like it. I think treating them differently is wrong and the fact that they’re leaving their families for months on end to live on the road, is a sacrifice they’re willing to make and I should be making it too.
Flash bulbs are going off like crazy. Our names are being called and told to look in their direction. We ignore them, but don’t move from our spots, giving them ample opportunity to get their images. We’re asked personal questions. Most of them invade our privacy. My favorites are about my mystery love child, mine and Sam’s wedding (which will never happen) and if I’m sleeping with the newest ‘it’ girl.