“What happened?” I think I know but bringing up the stalker in the middle of the night when Luna’s already upset wouldn’t be sensitive.
“The stalker. He sent something else. The bra that went missing from my dressing room in Berlin, covered with more blood. My bodyguards have given it to the police but I’m freaking out. How the fuck is he getting so close to me, and no one is catching him in the act? I don’t understand. To get backstage you have to have a pass. Whoever it is has followed me from city to city.”
“We don’t know that everything is connected. What happened in Australia could be someone totally different.” I say, trying to find a way to calm her. Is it better to tell her the truth or pretend I’m not sure? We’ve always tried to keep the darkness away from her, and in the middle of the night, when she’s so far away, how does it benefit her to know?
“More than one stalker?”
“I’m just saying that it hasn’t been confirmed.”
“He’s getting closer all the time,” she whispers. “It doesn’t matter how many burly men I have around me, he’s there.” Her breath hitches with what sounds like real fear and my arms break out in gooseflesh.
Rubbing my hand over my face, I take a deep steadying breath. My grip tightens on the phone as my frustration passes through every limb into every tendon. “I wish I could be there with you,” I say. “I wish we’d done things differently.”
“You think what we did was a mistake?”
“No. I could never see it as a mistake. It was a mistake that we weren’t more careful.”
Luna exhales lightly, and her phone rustles as she shifts around. It’s hell to hear her voice and not be able to hold her. It’s hell not to be able to help her directly when she’s in distress, but at least she called me. At least she still reached out.
“Mo was on the phone to the police in Australia yesterday. They’re making progress, honey. We’ve just got to be patient. Stick closely to your new team of bodyguards. Don’t go anywhere that isn’t an absolute necessity. Don’t eat or drink anything that they haven’t checked first, okay?”
“Okay.”
Seconds of silence tick past while all of the things I want to say to her stick like wool in my throat. It’s not fair to tell her that I miss her when there’s no hope of anything happening between us. It’s not fair to draw her into something that isn’t going to bring her happiness. The scandal will die down in time and she can go back to the career she’s so driven to pursue. Protecting that has to be all of our priorities.
“I miss you,” she whispers. “I know that wasn’t part of the plan for any of us, but I do.”
I slump against the wall, the biting cold of the tile against my skin matching the ache in my heart. “I miss you too,” I say, my resolve drifting away. “We all do. But you have so much going on and none of us want to mess it up for you.”
It’s her chance to tell me what she wants. It’s her chance to step forward and say that our relationship is worth fighting for.
The silence between us echoes louder than church bells. Is she angry with me? Did she want me to say something different? Every man in my crew would fight for Luna if we felt that it was the right thing. Letting her go has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but it’s for her own good. If she chose us over her career, there would always be a part of her that would regret it.
“How are you all?” she asks eventually. “How was the journey home?”
“We’re all good,” I tell her. “We’re still in London, taking some time off. Elijah ran into his brothers yesterday so it looks like we might stay for a few more days.”
“You’re in London?” Somehow the news that we’re close has made Luna’s voice brighter.
“Yeah. Probably not that far from you.”
“For now,” she says.
“When do you move on?” I ask, not remembering the tour schedule in detail.
“Two more days,” she says. “I have a TV show tomorrow night. Blueday have briefed them that I won’t be answering any questions about the pictures, but that doesn’t mean that they are going to listen.”
“You think they might try it on?”
“I think they’d be mad not to get the scoop if they could.”
“Shit,” I say. “What will you do if they ask?”
“Smile and thank them for letting me perform my new single on their show. At least, that’s what Blueday have told me to do.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say slowly, worrying that things could get very awkward for her in front of a huge TV audience. “Are you sure that you want to go through with it? Could you make an excuse?”
“It’s great exposure,” she says, but there is definitely doubt in her voice. “I have to brave it at some point. I can’t hide at my own shows forever. The tour needs to build publicity. That’s the whole point of it.”
“It must be tough, always thinking about pushing yourself further into the public eye.”
“You wouldn’t like to be a famous artist?”
“I’d like for people to love my work, but if that could happen without anybody ever needing to see my face, I’d take the anonymity over fame any day.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I never believed that anything like this would ever happen to me. It started off like a fairy tale, but it’s starting to feel like a nightmare.”
“Don’t say that,” I say. “It’s just a temporary blip and when it’s passed, you’ll feel like you’re in the fairy tale again. How could you not? You’re a superstar, Luna.”
She sighs softly and I hear the rustle of her bed covers as she shifts position. “I’m just a girl, Asher. Whatever happens in my life, however famous I get, I’ll still be just a girl.”
“You’re so much more than just a girl,” I say. “You sparkle like the brightest diamond. Don’t ever forget how special you are.”
The cool tiles of the bathroom floor are starting to make my feet cold and outside, a car horn sounds despite the late hour. If I could click my fingers and find myself in Luna’s bed, tucked up warm and tight away from the world, I wouldn’t hesitate. Even though seeing her again would make our eventual separation harder, I’d put myself through it if I could be a comfort to her.
“If I forget, all I have to do is look at your drawings of me,” she says. “You drew me in black and white, but somehow those drawings seem to convey me in vivid technicolor.”
“That’s all you, sweetheart. I just captured what I could see.”
I think she smiles then, at least, I imagine her pretty face resting against the pillow and a soft curve to her pink lips. I imagine her delicate collar bones and strong toned arms revealed by the sheet, and a swathe of shiny chestnut hair spread out behind her.
“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?” she asks.
“You know we would in a heartbeat if it wasn’t going to mess with your career,” I say.
“My career.” She says it as though her teeth are gritted. Two simple words laced with a bitterness I can almost taste.