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“No. I’m going to try and find them a job in my merch department. The label mostly handles that, but I’m sure I could pull something off.”

You shake your head, putting the toy back in its place of honor on the shelf.

“What did I do to rate a call this early in the morning?” you ask playfully. “I know you haven’t had whatever green juice you are drinking instead of coffee, and it looks like you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet.”

He breathes on his hand in a showy way. “What? Can you smell my morning breath over there?”

That makes you laugh.

He cracks a smile too, but his face goes serious. “We have to talk.”

“I hate those words.” You stop fidgeting in your chair, and tuck a half-eaten apple slice back into its bag.

“I know.” He pulls his hair back in his fist, making a loose ponytail with nothing to tie it back. On screen, he takes a deep breath. “I need to tell you something. ”

“What, are you pregnant? I hope I’m the daddy.”

“Seriously,” he says, gently stern. “You’re not going to like it.”

“What I don’t like is you dragging it out. Spill it already.”

He lets his hair go, and shakes it out. It’s grown halfway down his upper arm, now.

“I’m extending the tour,” he says bluntly. “In support of Golden doing so well. I’m going to announce it on stage tonight. Tickets for sale tomorrow. Shows starting next week.”

“What?” you say blankly. And then—“How long?”

“Seven more weeks in Europe,” he says. “Six cities. Not too, too long.”

You swallow, feeling your throat tighten. “Seven weeks? I’ll be back at OTAs in seven weeks.”

Sterling frowns. Rubs his forehead, and rolls his shoulders.

“You’re upset,” he states.

You slide down a bit lower in your chair.

“I’m just surprised,” you clarify. “Disappointed, I guess.”

He narrows his eyes .

“Don’t be like this, Kai,” he says, cajoling. “I’m surprised we have to have this conversation. My fans come first. Always. This is my career that we’re talking about. That’s always going to be my priority.”

Maybe he meant it that way, maybe he didn’t, but the words hit you like a slap.

“I never said that it shouldn’t be,” you say quietly.

Sterling cracks his knuckles.

“Shit, Kai. That came out badly.” He looks offscreen, in the direction of where you’re guessing the bedroom door is.

Discomfort bubbles in your stomach. You wish he had just texted you, or something.

Maybe even that you had just read about the tour on the internet, just like everyone else. “I made it sound like…”

“I’m not asking to take priority over your career,” you say boldly. “I never would. Because it would be wrong, and also because I know what your priorities are. This doesn’t need to be a thing. I wasn’t trying to make it one.”

His face softens. Looks achingly, hauntingly appealing.

“You are definitely one of my priorities,” he says.

The statement twists your gut up. It should be pleasant, all that unexpected sweetness, but you still feel like you are wading in shark-infested waters, and you want out. So you duck your head.

“It doesn’t need to be a thing,” you repeat, in the direction of the ivory area rug under your chair.

Sterling pauses for a moment. You aren’t looking at the screen, but you can tell that he’s staring at you.

“Kaius,” he says.

“Hmm?”

“Kaius,” he repeats. “Look at me.”

You meet his eyes, brown to blue.

“What is this really about?” he asks.

His fucking eyes. They are so direct and forthright. They are capable of melting you like butter on a hot pan, or seeing straight through you. His gaze is disarming, and, not for the first time, you realize that you have no choice but to tell the truth.

“I wanted to spend time with you,” you admit. “I was looking forward to it.”

Sterling nods. “I see.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“I was looking forward to spending time with you, too,” he says. “The label suggested extending the tour, and that was actually my primary objection. ”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. It’s been a long run, and I’m excited to go home again, but I wanted some free time. And I wanted to see you.”

“Oh,” is all you say.

“Why don’t you come with me?” he asks, naturally as breathing.

You surely didn’t hear him right. “Excuse me?”

“Come with me,” he echoes. “Pack your bags, and I’ll fly you over.

Come on tour with me. It will be better than either you or me crossing the ocean and making that miserable flight more than once.

I’ll be away on the nights I’m performing, of course, but they’re putting me up in a house in London for the duration of the extension, so I have a home base.

” His voice is growing in confidence, like the fomenting idea in his head is exciting even to him.

“Seriously. Just come next week. Meet me in London.”

You tilt your head, confused.

“You didn’t want me on tour,” you remind him. “You have routines. Remember? We talked about this.”

Sterling nods, knotting the sheet in his hand. “I did say that. And, at the time, I meant it. But that was then, and now is different. I want to see you, Kai. I want us to do this together.”

It’s the second time in one conversation that his words have physically affected you, but it’s happening again. A slow-but-sure quickening in your chest, the queasiness dissipating like snow melt and becoming something new. Warmer. Brighter.

“Let me get this straight,” you say slowly. “You are asking me to come spend seven weeks with you in Europe? On tour? Just the two of us?”

Sterling laughs. “Well, the two of us… yeah. But also eight backup singers, twenty dancers, several dozen roadies and crew members, countless publicity agents, my overseas tour manager, probably Maeve here and there. Oh, yeah, and the junior PAs that she hired for the extension…”

“I get it!” You put your hands up, snorting a laugh. “Just us and a couple hundred of our closet friends. A real intimate soirée.”

“Will you?” he asks. And, if you didn’t know better, you’d say that Sterling sounds impulsive.

“Yes,” you say. You haven’t even thought out the particulars—you need to stay in shape, you have meetings to attend, you have other things that will need setting up—but you already know that, by hook or by crook, you are going to work them out. That, no matter what, you are making this happen .

On the screen, Sterling breaks into a goofy smile and drums his hands on the bed happily.