Timeless (9 page)

He repositions himself to block the light from my face. “But you did mean what you said? You want to have another baby?”

I can’t tell if he’s hoping I did or didn’t mean it
—
or maybe a little of both. Nervously, I nibble on my bottom lip and nod my head. “Yeah, I know we’ve talked about having more, but I didn’t want to until we were off the bus permanently and settled. As many great memories we made with the kids traveling all over the world the last few years, I don’t want to do it again.”

“We were pretty crazy, weren’t we?” His warm laugh intoxicates me, and I’m thankful we can joke about our not-so-conventional way of raising a family.

“Yes, we were
—
and sometimes still are,” I reply softly, reaching up to tenderly trace my finger over his morning stubble. “We’re always a good crazy though.”

Grasping my hand, he kisses my palm then abruptly sits up, the gray sheet pooling around his waist. “Speaking of kids and crazy, we need to get up and get busy. They’ll be home tomorrow night and this place is a wreck.”

“Okay, I promise I’ll get busy, but I want to show you something first. Let’s get dressed and make some coffee.”

Fifteen minutes later, Mason and I
—
each holding a piping hot mug
—
are sitting on the living room floor surrounded by the photos I’ve been reminiscing over for the past day. I show him all the ones I’ve been through thus far, and we laugh over most of the memories. I notice his eyes get a little glossy when he sees the pictures with the authors holding the babies. He’d been extremely upset he wasn’t there when they were born.

Reaching into the storage bin, I pull out another set
—
ones of him and the twins
—
and a huge grin stretches across his face. It was the day he introduced the world to Everett and Ashlynn.

No amount of reading, searching websites, or listening to other parents could’ve prepared me for what life with newborn twins would be like. Holy fucking shit—and I mean that exactly how it sounds.

The babies and I were both released from the hospital three days after their birth. They both weighed-in at just over five pounds and had no health issues whatsoever, so they sent us all on our merry way—no instructions, no handbook, just a stack of papers explaining what we owed. Mason brought us to our makeshift home of a hotel suite, and we literally looked at each other and said, “What next?”

Sophie pretty much moved in with us for the first few weeks until we figured everything out and developed somewhat of a schedule. It took us nearly a month, but eventually, I became proactive instead of reactive; I began to anticipate their needs and was prepared. Mason was amazing with the babies, always asking what he could do to help or watching them while I rested. He often felt bad because he’d be gone ten or more hours during the day as they recorded their third album with the new producer, but I understood they had a specific timeframe to get it all done before leaving for the third tour. Thankfully, Sophie continued to come over daily to help me out.

The third tour—that’s when things got really interesting.

Owen arranged for Mason, the twins, and me to have our own smaller bus that followed the larger one while we traveled throughout the states. I offered time and time again to stay in California or move back to the apartment in Houston until the tour was over, but Mason wouldn’t hear of it. He refused to be apart from me and the babies for any length of time, so when the twins were five months old, we packed up our family and moved onto our little bus for a six-month stint on the road. Crazy as shit.

The night of their opening performance in San Francisco, I was completely caught off-guard when Mason asked me to bring the twins on stage, and the band then closed the show with a cover of “A Father’s First Spring” by The Avett Brothers. Pride soared through me with such intensity I was afraid my heart would explode. I couldn’t have asked for a better father for my children, or a better caretaker of my heart.

Over the next several months, we learned how to live as a family on the road. Some days were harder than others, but as long as we were all together, we were home. Before Ashlynn and Everett turned one, they’d crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, seen the Grand Canyon, stood under the Gateway Arch, and had even been to the top of the Empire State Building. Our family had been interviewed by TV shows such as Ellen and The Talk—everyone always wondering how in the world we managed two infants in the confines of a bus. I’m not sure we even knew; we just made it work.

The US portion of the tour wrapped up in mid-January, giving us ten days off before we travelled overseas. It was the first time the twins actually stayed in our true home in Houston. While we were gone, Andi and Mina had transformed the spare bedroom into a nursery for them, which was absolutely breathtaking. Walking into the room, I felt as if I’d been transported into a serene rainforest; sage green bedding, trees painted on the walls, a sound machine playing nature sounds…they’d thought of everything. Unfortunately, ten days was just long enough to get used to being back before we had to leave yet again.

Our ten weeks in Europe and Asia was extremely challenging, yet exceptionally rewarding. Flying from place to place and hopping from hotel to hotel—often not speaking the native tongue—with the babies was much more difficult than being on the bus. We could only take with us what would fit in suitcases, which meant no swings, exersaucers, or anything else to keep them from crawling around and getting into everything, and most of the hotel rooms we stayed in were not infant-friendly, to say the least.

On the upside, we got to experience these foreign cities on a first-class ticket. Many of the places I’d dreamed of visiting were a part of the tour—London, Paris, Venice, Moscow, Frankurt, and the list went on. We celebrated the twins’ first birthday atop the Eiffel Tower—something they’ll never remember, but I’ll never forget. They both took their first steps in foreign countries—Everett in Germany, and Ashlynn in Spain. One off-night while we were in Italy, Sophie and Aaron kept the babies overnight to give Mase and me a much-needed break and alone time. We had dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant, followed by a ride down the canal on the famous gondolas, and with big plans of a long night filled with hot sex…we both fell asleep before midnight. Thankfully though, we became masters of utilizing the kids’ nap times wisely to fit in our sexcapades. I had more sex in hotel room bathrooms than I ever dreamed possible. We did what we had to do in order to keep the spark alive, and through it all, our relationship grew stronger and more resilient, and our love matured and flourished.

Glancing over at Mason as we get to the end of the stack of pictures
—
a year of our life summed up in photographs
—
I see the memories affecting him the same way they have me.

“Crazy. It seems like just yesterday, but so long ago at the same time,” he murmurs, still gazing at a photo of the four of us standing in front of the Sagrada Familia Cathedral.

I rest my head on his shoulder, sighing softly. “Always a good crazy.”

MASON

Damn Scarlett and her good distractions. I know we really need to get to work unpacking all these damn boxes, but between her tempting me with that sexy-as-fuck body, and getting me lost in the memories of the two little ones I cherish more than anything in the world, I’m not being very productive. The three of them have introduced me to a life I never knew I wanted, and now couldn’t live without. Growing up with less-than-spectacular parents, before I met Scarlett, I had no intention of ever settling down with one woman, much less having a family. I never wanted to disappoint anyone the way my parents did me. But once I fell for her, I knew I’d do whatever it took to make her happy, and as fucking pussy-whipped as that makes me sound, I don’t give a rat’s ass
—
full pun intended.

Our journey to this point hasn’t always been good
—
shit, it was downright God-awful at times in the beginning
—
but here we are, our love stronger than I ever could’ve imagined. It’s hard to believe it was over eight years ago when my dark-haired, green-eyed beauty walked into my bar, exuding an innocence that first captured my attention, and later stole my heart. There’s no point in rehashing the ways we fucked up or the choices we made; it all happened the way it was supposed to in order to get us to this place. Happiness.

Looking at all the pictures from the past six years, I’m reminded of our trek here, and if I had it to do all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. Many people don’t realize it, but Scarlett sacrificed a lot to make our relationship work. When she left to go on tour with me, she gave up the notion of going back to school and stopped playing her own music, stepping into a life of attention-starved whores and headline-hungry journalists that stripped her of her privacy. Yet she never complained. Not fucking once. She gave up everything so I could pursue my dream, always there when I needed a reassuring word, always there when I needed to fuck away my frustrations, and always there to support me unconditionally.

When I strongly suggested that she and the twins go on tour with me
—
probably for more selfish reasons than I’d like to admit
—
she was onboard. I know life like that wasn’t easy, especially for her since she was with the babies twenty-four-seven, but she did it so we could be together. Then for the next three and a half years, as the babies grew into toddlers, she continued to travel with me, always just because I asked her to.

I’ll never forget the day I decided to give it all up, which turned out to be the best decision of my life. We were in New York a week after my twenty-ninth birthday, and I’d gone out for an early-morning run. As I passed by a newsstand, a picture on the front of a magazine caught my eye. Immediately, I stopped cold. It was a photo of Everett and Ashlynn skipping down a sidewalk while holding Scarlett’s hands. The headline read:
Traveling Tots: Life on the Road with Twins.
I purchased the magazine, and then found the closest bench to sit down and read the article. The entire piece was very flattering, complimenting Scarlett on how she’s managed to raise the kids while always on the go. I’m not sure what it was exactly, but something inside of me changed at that moment. Call it a wakeup call, a slap in the face, a turning point
—
whatever the fuck you want, all that matters is everything was different. As much as I loved music and performing, I loved my family exponentially more, and suddenly it became so obvious to me
—
I’d been so greedy and so self-centered to have them make such sacrifices, but they went along with it just to make me happy.

That night, we performed at Madison Square Garden, and I couldn’t wait to get off the stage and back to my family in the hotel. Suddenly, as if my rose-colored glasses had been stripped away, I saw everyone around me for what they really were
—
users and abusers. Other than my bandmates and a few select others, all of the people surrounding me didn’t care about what the best thing for me was, nor did they didn’t give two shits about my family. Their only concern was how I could help them improve their own lives.

As soon as I returned to the room, I woke everyone up
—
I hadn’t cared what time it was
—
and informed them of the decision I’d come to. The twins were really too young to understand, but they cheered anyway because I seemed so excited. Scarlett was hesitant to show any emotion, confused over why I’d had a change of heart and, as usual, putting my feelings first. I promised her I was one hundred percent confident in my decision; as soon as the current tour we were on was complete, I was finished. Done. Terminado. Finito. I wanted to give Scarlett the wedding and marriage she deserved, the kids the stability they needed, and for the four of us to enjoy the life we were blessed with.

It’s been almost a year since that day, and not one single moment have I regretted it.