Jane was laid on the floor, her feet kicked playfully at the shiny toys that hung overhead while you packed. You ignored the voice that told you this was a risky idea, challenged the fear like Cassie had encouraged and focused mostly on the fact that this was like a vacation–sort of.
"Do you know where my grey shirt is?" Harry's head popped out from the closet in the master bedroom, your bedroom, but you shrugged your shoulders.
"Believe it or not I don't keep track of your clothes."
He rolled his eyes and disappeared back into the closet. Jane let out a laugh on the floor when the Baby Mozart song playing from your phone started over.
"Please change it," Harry begged, distress written all over his face. "I can't do it again."
"This is the worst one by far," you agreed. "But of course it's her favorite."
Harry came over to Jane on the ground and looked at her with a smile. "Daddy loves you," he smiled sweetly. "But you have shit taste in music so far."
You let out a laugh, thankful she couldn't understand him. "She likes your music, so..."
"Not that–you have good taste there, Janey."
He headed back towards the closet when you folded a pair of jeans and put them in the suitcase in front of you. "Speaking of–did Jeff manage to find those headphones online?"
"Yep!" He called out. "Should be here tomorrow I think."
Thank God. The agreement was that if Jane was supposed to be on the road or in the audience, she needed headphones that could protect her tiny baby ears. Dr. Ramierez insisted and you did too.
You were quiet now, trying to ignore the same song on your phone when Jane wriggled on her play mat. After a few seconds, Harry came out again and sat on the edge of the bed as he folded a shirt.
"You sure you're okay with not going back to work right now?"
You looked up at him, pushed your lips to the side in thought. "Yeah–I mean, I probably won't last as a stay at home mom forever, but, I do appreciate your willingness to help financially."
He laughed at your words. It took him two long weeks to convince you to quit. The thought had already been in your mind, swirling around but never actually being spoken until he took you out to dinner one night and made the proposition. Quit your job, come on tour with me, be a family.
It took you a few days to make up your mind. A phone call with your mom and dinner with Glenne and Lexi before you were convinced that it wasn't crazy and you weren't stupid. You had a daughter, you had a boyfriend now, the three of you were trying to have as normal of an experience as you could, despite everything that made that difficult.
You figured heading back to work in the summer while trying to fly out to see him and raise a newborn wouldn't be the easiest. What felt like a logical decision was to quit your job with no notice, abandon the life in LA that you knew and pack up and hit the road with a guy you didn't even know for a whole two years. You sounded like a lunatic, and apparently that's what love did to you.
Most of your therapy sessions were now spent unpacking why on Earth planning things out had once provided you so much comfort and security. Somehow you'd done a full 180 and threw caution to the wind.
You looked back up at Harry now. He sat on the bed, a pair of socks in his hands, lips in a firm line like he was worried you'd change your mind.
"I'm sure–I can always go back later. You know, when she's old enough for daycare or school or something."
That helped calm the anxiety that buzzed inside of you. No decision was permanent. If you hated being home or on the road with him, you could go back to work. Maybe not at Facebook, but you had enough experience and a good enough resume that you'd be able to figure something out, right?
He bent forward and kissed the top of your head. "I love you, it means a lot that you're coming with me."
You stood from the floor to head for the dresser against the wall with your clothes in it. "With the last year we've had, I don't know if we could handle long distance."
He made a face at that–open mouth and furrowed brows, like you'd punched him in the gut or said the most offensive thing ever. "I think we could handle anything!"
You eyed him over your shoulder. "Yeah? Long distance a whole month and a half into our relationship with a newborn baby?"
He rolled his eyes at that and waved you off. "Love can climb mountains."
"Did you read that in a fortune cookie?"
"Maybe."
**
Jane was in your arms now, somewhere in the UK, mid April made the air chilly and even with his baby strapped to your chest, you felt a little out of place. The green room was busy, someone was brushing his hair and Jeff buzzed around with a look on his face that made you stay out of his way.
Luckily, Glenne was by your side to reassure you. "He just gets a resting bitch face when he's in manager mode."
"Are you sure we can stay in here?"
"Yes," Glenne nodded. She walked over to a table with snacks. "Want something?"
"No," you shook your head. "Too nervous?"
Harry, from only a few feet away, heard you. "Nervous? About what?"
The rest of the people in the room were too busy to pay you any attention, but you still felt heat rise to your cheeks when you spoke. "For you–first night."
Glenne popped a few grapes into her mouth but laughed. "He's fine. He's a pro at prancing around and shooting water out of his mouth."
"Hey," he pointed a finger at her. "I have incredible dance moves."
"Even I can dance better than you," you teased, picking up Jane's hands and dancing around with her. "Right, Janey? We dance to daddy's music all the time and I'm much better than he is!"
Harry frowned at that but reached his arms out to take Jane. You unclipped her and she giggled with excitement when he pulled her into his chest, kisses on her cheeks when his hairstylist ran her fingers through with some product.
"You know, there's wine somewhere out there. Maybe you should have a glass," Harry suggested, Jane slumped into his arms now and was content to just sit there, watching the conversation unfold.
"I don't need a glass of wine."
"You don't need one," Harry said. "But you could benefit from one."
Glenne laughed and you shot her a glare. "I've been much better about my anxiety."
"You have!" She agreed.
"I just want everything to go well. I want Jane to be able to fall asleep after a few songs when I bring her back here. And then I want to come back and enjoy the show while Kenzie stays here and watches her."
Kenzie–a highly recommended nanny from Jeff's circle of married friends–had joined you on the road to make things as easy as possible. Jane took to her well and you were glad to be able to pull double time, mommy first, girlfriend second, but still both.
Jeff came up next to Glenne now, right in time to hear Harry say: "If you miss any of the show I'll put on a private one for you tonight."
"You're obnoxious," you said to him, letting him tug you into his side. Jane looked up at you and you reached down to smooth her hair.
"And you love me anyway."
"Yeah," you said. "Most of the time."
**
Jane was mesmerized–mostly by the lights and the sounds through the big pink headphones that Jeff had ordered. But she also eventually put it together that the face of the guy on the screen was the same guy who sang her to sleep and still didn't really know how to handle a diaper blow out. She smiled and laughed when you passed her back and forth with Glenne for the first three songs.
But you pulled yourself away after a while, knowing that if she didn't sleep soon you'd only have yourself to blame the next day when she was cranky and tired. Kenzie had already set up a makeshift crib in Harry's dressing room, you swaddled her up and kept the lights low when you read her a story, all the while ignoring the screams still audible through the cinder block walls.
Eventually she was out, you passed the torch to Kenzie and headed back for the crowd. A few glasses of wine, two encores later, and finally you were in bed next to Harry, showered and exhausted when Jane's eyelids fluttered against her cheek.
"You were amazing tonight," you said, "prancing and all."
He smiled, rubbed at his eyes and then watched your daughter for a second. "I'm glad you're both here. Would have been weird to be without you."
"I'm glad, too. She definitely recognized you, by the way. At least on the screens–she didn't spend too much time actually looking at the stage."
He scoffed at that. "Rude."
You laughed, reached over to poke his nose. "One day she'll get it and she'll be proud."
He was quiet for a second. "Are you proud?"
"Proud of you?"
He nodded.
"Of course I am."
"I'm proud of you, too."
You eyed him skeptically. "For what?"
"For being a good mom. Even though you were thrust into it."
"You're a good dad."
"Even though I'm making you come all around the world with me?"
"Mhm," you said. "Tonight was easy, too. She went down easily enough, so we'll find our rhythm."
"Did you miss too much of the show? Need me to put on a private one for you?" He wiggled his eyebrows and shimmied his shoulders a bit.
"No," you laughed and gave him a playful shove. "Maybe tomorrow."
"Y/N?"
"Harry?"
"I'll give you private shows for the rest of our lives."
Talk of the future made your stomach flip, in a good way. You smiled and let him pull you closer. "Sounds good."