I don’t really know what love is supposed to be like. My parents didn’t love me in any kind of way that I could feel nurtured by. If they did, it was a selfish love that was more about using me and controlling me than it was about supporting and cherishing. My brothers loved me but in an imperfect sibling way. Looking back, I don’t know how much of it was real love and how much was about duty and desperation to have something to cling to when everything around us was falling apart.
In the movies, love takes two forms: the sickly-sweet love of Christmas movies where even the most difficult of challenges are easily overcome, or the crazy psycho love that drives people to do all kinds of insane things.
As much as I’d like to believe that these men have feelings for me, I’m obviously kidding myself. They have a duty to protect me that I’ve built into some greater level of care. They’re good, responsible men, and that’s blinded me to the fact that this situation is all my creation.
Men love sex. They’re biologically driven to fuck as much as possible. So, if a woman offers it on a silver platter, they’re likely to take it. Sex for women has a greater emotional element. Sex for men is a functional need.
All I’ve done for them is fill a desire for physical release and provide them with some fun on the lonely nights on tour. The same as they’ve done for me, except I’ve been an idiot and let my heart get involved.
If I tell them how I feel, would it make a difference? If they fought to stay with me, what would the end result be? I’d lose my contract with Blueday. That’s a certainty. We’d all end up resenting each other. Their life is on the road, and mine is too. I convince myself that this thing only worked because of the forced proximity of the tour.
Swallowing everything down tastes as bitter as the drink I almost swallowed yesterday. To my dying day, the loss of these men and that terrible experience will have the same flavor.
For all of our sakes, the best thing I can do is let my bodyguards walk away.
25
BEN
It's raining in London; weather fitting with the mood we are all doing our best to conceal. As we disembark, the stewards shoot us pearly-white smiles that don't quite meet their eyes. When we're through the immigration checks, we're stopped by a troop of men in black.
"Steel 7 Security?" the biggest one with the shaven head asks.
"Yes." Connor's shoulders rise as he takes a steadying breath, and my knee feels weak.
These are our replacements.
"We'll take it from here," he says. "Miss Evans, your car is waiting outside. I'm Mr. Wright, and this is the rest of your team. Can you follow me, please?"
"Hang on a minute," Asher says. "We're going to need to see some documents before we release the primary. Show us your contract."
Mr. Wright reaches into his inside pocket, pulling out a roughly folded bundle of papers. "Here's the contract from Adam at Blueday. I take it that it's the same one as they sent to you."
Connor looks over the details, nodding as he reads the relevant sections. Mr. Wright takes a step forward impatiently, but Connor puts up his hand, and the rest of us gather closer to Luna. Eventually, he turns to her. "Luna, these men are going to be looking after you from here."
I can't decipher her facial expression because her eyes are obscured by her oversize sunglass. She can't speak either.
Connor reaches for her hand, but Mr. Wright clears his throat. "Can I suggest that goodbyes are kept to a minimum? Who knows who's watching and recording right now? Luna needs to maintain distance."
As Connor's hand drops to his side, my heart feels like a missile dropped from the belly of a plane. We're not even going to be able to say goodbye properly. I'm never going to feel the soft press of her lips on mine or the gentle touch that told me I was enough.
"Luna, we wish you all the best with the rest of the tour. If you need anything, please call any one of us anytime." Connor's voice is flat and defeated, and I get the urge to shout the words from his tattoo: Tada gan iarracht. There's never been a moment in our lives when it has meant more.
Nothing without effort. It would take effort for us to fight to be together. Luna would lose the most. She'd have to give up her career and the wealth that it's set to bring her. It's a lot, but we've never asked her how she feels about us. We've never given her the chance to make a choice.