Chapter 11

Between jet lag and a restless night’s sleep, I was exhausted the next morning. Thank god for coffee, I thought as I rolled into our first meeting with producer Martin Terefe with a venti cappuccino from Starbucks in the cup holder of my wheelchair.

Martin was a thin, balding man who wore glasses and had a subtle Swedish accent that reminded me of our original producers, Max Martin and Denniz PoP. His recording studio, Kensaltown, looked like an old-fashioned loft, with worn hardwood floors and exposed wooden beams running across the vaulted ceilings. It was warm and inviting, and I immediately felt at home there.

After a round of introductions and a quick tour, we gathered around a wooden table to talk about ideas for the next album. “This is the first album we have complete creative control over,” Nick said excitedly. “We don’t have to worry about what the record company wants; we can make it the kind of album we want.”

“It needs to be us,” Brian added, his voice cracking. I took a quick look around the table to see if anyone else had noticed. If they had, they didn’t react. “I know the last album was called This is Us, but that… that wasn’t really us. We need to make a record that really represents us as the Backstreet Boys.”

“Classic pop songs with great melodies and rich harmonies,” said AJ. “That’s the formula that has always worked for us. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

I mostly listened rather than talked as the other guys discussed the direction they wanted us to go in. Already, the meeting had a much different feel from the ones I remembered sitting through before I left the group. Nick and AJ were more vocal now; they had strong opinions and clear visions of where they wanted the group to go. Brian didn’t waste anyone’s time goofing off with the younger guys; he was surprisingly focused and serious. Even Howie surprised me by playing devil’s advocate, bringing up differing viewpoints rather than automatically going along with the group just to keep the peace.

“But we also need to keep evolving,” Howie pointed out. “We don’t wanna sound dated, like we’re stuck in the nineties or still in our teens and twenties. We’re grown men now. Most of us are married or in committed relationships-” He nodded at Nick. “-and four out of five of us are fathers or will be soon.” He smiled at AJ. “Our songs should reflect that.”

Nick nodded. “More mature lyrics – and a more mature sound.”

I cleared my throat. “All of that sounds great, fellas. If I could just make one request, it would be that we try to feature all five voices and distribute the leads more evenly than we did in the past. I don’t wanna just be a backup singer anymore. My voice is all I have left to offer the group. I can’t dance anymore; I can barely play the piano – the only way I can really contribute to the performance is by singing. So, please, let me sing lead some of the time. I’m sure I can speak for D in saying he would love more solos, too.”

“I’m all for that,” Howie replied, shooting me an appreciative smile.

“Fine with me,” said Brian with a shrug. “You know the only reason AJ, Nick, and I got so many solos back in the day was because it was what the record company wanted. Now that we don’t have to answer to anyone else, we can decide for ourselves how to distribute parts.”

“We can definitely make it more equal,” AJ chimed in. “Everyone sitting here has an incredible voice that deserves to be heard.”

“Absolutely,” Nick agreed.

All in all, the meeting went well. We left the studio that afternoon feeling inspired and energized.

Afterward, we went out for a late lunch, then headed back to the hotel to chill. I wanted to take a nap, but I called Natalie first to figure out our plans for the evening. Despite my doubts, I had been looking forward to seeing her again all day. She could have easily ghosted me by not answering if she wasn’t interested in going out again, but as the phone rang, I silently prayed she would pick up.

“Hello?”

I smiled the moment I heard her voice. “Hey, Natalie, it’s Kevin.”

“Hi, Kevin!” replied Natalie. “I was hoping I would hear from you today.”

“I told you I’d call,” I said, pressing the phone closer to my ear. “Are you still up for doing dinner tonight?”

“Yes! Where do you want to go?”

“I was about to ask you the same question. Do you know any great restaurants in London?”

“Hm… how about an Italian place?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, smiling as I recalled our conversation about Italy.

“There’s a cool, modern Italian restaurant at Kensington Square, about a mile from my hotel. We could go there, unless it sounds like too much of a hassle to travel that far.”

“No, that should be fine.” So far, I had been impressed by how accessible London was, despite its age. “What hotel are you staying at? I can get us a cab and pick you up.”

“Okay!” She gave me the name of her hotel and arranged to meet me in front of it at seven, which gave me a few hours to rest and get ready.

I had Keith help me transfer to the bed so I could take a break from being in my chair and lie down for a while. I called my mom to check in and spent a few minutes FaceTiming with Mason while Keith turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until he found a show to watch while we relaxed.

Halfway through it, there was a knock on our door. Keith got up and went to answer it. “Oh, hey,” I heard him say.

“Hey,” echoed Lauren as she came into the room. She walked over to my bed and set a small shopping bag down on the side table. “Ro and I couldn’t find a jeweler who would repair the clasp on your necklace while we waited, so we just bought you a new chain that matches the pendant.” She pulled out a bundle of tissue paper, unwrapped a jewelry box, and popped it open to reveal a long, delicate chain.

“That’s perfect,” I said as she took it out of the box. “How much did it cost? I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I put it on one of Nick’s credit cards.”

She winked, and I laughed. “Well, thanks,” I said, watching as she took my pendant out of a pocket of her purse and threaded it onto the new chain.

“You’re welcome. Do you want me to put it on you?”

I started to nod, then hesitated. “I dunno… I actually have a date tonight. Is it weird to wear my dead wife’s wedding ring around my neck while I’m having dinner with another woman?”

Lauren shrugged. “Do whatever you wanna do.”

“No, really,” I pressed. “You’re a woman; I want your honest opinion. Would you think it was weird?”

She hesitated. “I wouldn’t think it was weird, necessarily, but it would make me wonder if you were really ready to start dating again,” she said gently. “Can your heart really be open to a new relationship if you’re still outwardly committed to the old one?”

“That’s a good point. I don’t know,” I admitted.

She gave me a sympathetic smile. “If you don’t feel comfortable going without the necklace, just wear it under your shirt like you usually do and don’t let her see it. But if you do decide to leave it off, it doesn’t mean you love Kristin any less.”

I nodded. “I guess I’ve gone almost two days without wearing it. What difference will a few more hours make?”

Lauren put the necklace back into the jewelry box and set it down on the table. “Good luck with your date tonight,” she said, turning to leave. “I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks. Me too.”

As I watched her walk away, I wondered what I was hoping to get out of the date with Natalie. Unlike the last woman I’d gone out with, Lisa, she didn’t even live in the same state as me, let alone the same city. A long-distance relationship may have worked when I was younger, but it didn’t seem as doable for a forty-year-old, disabled, single dad. I decided my goal was just to have fun with a beautiful woman and see where the night went.

About an hour before I was supposed to pick her up, Keith helped me get dressed for dinner, putting on a pair of gray denim pants that I wore with a black button-down shirt. I transferred back to my wheelchair, used the bathroom, and made sure my bag was packed with everything I needed for the evening. I layered a blue scarf and black leather jacket over my outfit in case I got cold when the temperature dropped back into the forties after dark.

It was still light when I went downstairs to the lobby, though the sun had already sunk behind the rows of large, brick buildings that lined both sides of the narrow street outside the hotel. I tilted my head back and turned my face toward the orange sky, trying to soak up the last rays of sunshine as the twilight crept steadily in.

The doorman hailed a taxi for me. Thankfully, the entire fleet of London black cabs were wheelchair-accessible. I waited while the driver folded up the back seats to make more room and connected a ramp to the cab floor so I could get in. Once I was in place with my brakes on, he fastened a series of straps to buckle me in securely, then folded down the seat next to me so Natalie would have a place to sit when we picked her up.

She was waiting outside her hotel as promised when the cab pulled up to the curb. “Hi, Kevin!” she said, smiling as she climbed into the back. I caught a whiff of her perfume, which was sweet but not overpowering. Her hair was down that day; it hung past her shoulders, straight and shiny. She wore a chic, beige mod coat over a black top and tight-fitting, pale pink pants with a pair of black flats.

“Hey, Natalie.” I smiled back at her. “You look great.”

“Thanks! So do you.” She buckled herself into the seat next to me and told the driver where the restaurant was.

It didn’t take long to get there. Before we’d even finished making small talk about what we’d each done with our day in London, the taxi stopped in front of a tall, brownstone building with a red awning. Natalie stepped out first, then waited on the sidewalk while the driver unfastened the straps from my chair and reconnected the ramp so I could exit the cab. I paid the fare, giving him a generous tip for his extra time and effort. Getting me in and out of the taxi had taken as long as the trip itself, but I knew I didn’t have the strength or stamina to wheel myself more than a mile down the winding London streets.

Thankfully, the restaurant’s entrance was flat. “After you,” I said, motioning for Natalie to go first. I followed, reluctantly letting her hold the door open for me as we went inside.

The interior was small and cramped, but the muted colors and modern, minimalist decor kept it from feeling claustrophobic. The waitress seated us a table for two, taking away one of the chairs to make room for mine. She set our menus down in front of us, then left us to look at them.

“Have you been here before?” I asked Natalie as she pored over the wine selection.

She nodded. “Once. It was really good.”

“Everything sounds good,” I said, scanning the menu. As usual, I weighed what sounded the best with what would be easiest for me to eat without making a mess. Italian food could be messy because of the sauces, but at least most of it was soft and easy to scoop. As long as I didn’t get a dish with long pasta that required twirling around my fork, I would be fine.

When our waitress came back, we each ordered a glass of wine – red for me, white for Natalie – and a plate of bruschetta to share as an appetizer.

“Do you have favorite restaurants to eat at in each city you fly to?” I asked Natalie as we sipped our drinks.

“Not really. I like to try a different restaurant every time, but I tend to remember the really good ones,” she replied. “Do you?”

“In some cities, yeah. I’ve been to so many places around the world, they start to blur together, but I do have favorites in the cities I’ve spent a lot of time in, like Stockholm and Tokyo.”

“I’ve actually never been to Stockholm, but Tokyo is a cool city,” Natalie said, nodding. “The flight is a killer; it takes fourteen hours to fly directly from Atlanta, but it’s worth the trip once you get there. I’ve only worked that route a couple of times.”

“Tokyo is one of my favorite cities,” I said. “I did a stint as Billy Flynn in the musical Chicago over there a few months before my son was born, but I haven’t been back since. This is actually my first overseas trip since my accident.”

“Oh, wow. Good for you! That has to be hard, traveling with a wheelchair,” she said sympathetically. “But, hey, now that you’ve gotten over that hurdle, I hope you can go back to Tokyo soon.”

I nodded. “Me too. I’d love to take Mason there someday. And you should go to Stockholm if you get the chance. It’s a beautiful city. I spent a lot of time there with the Backstreet Boys when we were recording our first few albums. It’s always fun to go back.”

“Maybe we can meet there sometime,” Natalie said, smiling.

“I’d like that,” I said, smiling back.

The waitress returned, setting a plate of bruschetta down on the table between us, and took the rest of our order. Natalie ordered a ravioli dish, while I went with the malfatti – Italian dumplings made with spinach and ricotta cheese served in a pesto cream sauce.

“Can I fix you a piece of bruschetta?” Natalie asked after the waitress went away. The bruschetta had come with the tomato mixture in a separate bowl on the side instead of already on top of the toast.

“Yes, please,” I said appreciatively. She must have noticed that my hands didn’t work the normal way; I would have a hard time spooning tomatoes onto the toast without dripping olive oil all over the table. Natalie made quick work of it, placing a piece of bruschetta in my hands without spilling a drop. “You must have pretty steady hands from all that practice at pouring drinks thirty-six thousand feet in the air, huh?” I said before taking a bite. The toast was still crispy and warm, while the cold, fresh tomatoes on top provided the perfect contrast in flavor and texture.

She laughed as she spread more of the seasoned tomatoes onto a second piece of toast. “Yes, but sometimes accidents still happen… as you saw the other day.” A faint blush rose in her cheeks as she flashed me a mischievous grin.

“Yes, they do,” I replied, feeling my own face burn with embarrassment. “I’m just glad that one happened in front of people who were understanding. Not everyone is.”

“A little ‘apple juice’ is nothing,” said Natalie with a wink. “I’ve seen so much worse. You wouldn’t believe the messes some passengers leave behind. Human beings can be pretty disgusting.”

I chuckled, picturing some of the more unpleasant messes I’d made in the past. “I believe it. You don’t have to clean up that kind of stuff, do you?”

“Oh, Lord, no!” She shook her head vigorously. “We have a cleaning crew who comes aboard after the plane lands to take care of that, thank goodness!”

“Good,” I said, relieved to know she hadn’t had to scrub my seat herself.

With the ice broken, it was easier to ask her for help when I needed it. When our entrees came, she put on my plate guard for me. “It’s so cool to see what kinda gadgets people come up with to make life a little easier,” she commented when she saw my set of adapted utensils. “Ingenious, really.”

I nodded, dipping my fork into my dish of malfatti. “Until I got hurt, I had no idea most of this stuff even existed.”

“Why would you?” she said with a shrug as she glanced down at her plate, slicing a piece of ravioli in half. “But I’m glad it does.”

I did the same with my malfatti before bringing part of one of the dumplings to my mouth. Bathed in cream sauce and stuffed with cheese, it was warm and delicious. “Me too,” I agreed, thinking back to the early days after my accident, when I didn’t have enough arm function to feed myself. “Who wants to be spoon-fed their dinner on a date?”

“Now, I dunno,” said Natalie, raising an eyebrow. “That could be kinda romantic if done right…”

I shook my head. “Not after you’ve had your mom or some random nurse in the hospital do it. Nothing romantic about that; trust me.”

She giggled. “I know; I was just kidding. I wouldn’t want that either. I broke my right arm falling off the monkey bars when I was eight, and my mom had to help me with almost everything ‘cause I was so bad at doing stuff left-handed. I hated it even then.”

“I’ll bet,” I said knowingly. “I used to be left-handed. I guess I still am, but my left hand doesn’t work any better than my right one these days.”

“That has to be hard,” she said sympathetically. “I dunno if I’d be able to handle it as well as you.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t have much of a choice. It was either adapt or be completely helpless for the rest of my life. When you suddenly lose control of most of your body, you learn to make do with what you have left.”

“Well, either way, I admire you for overcoming all that you have. It can’t have been easy.”

I just shook my head as I chewed another bite of my meal. Even that took more time and concentration than it used to. I had to be extra careful not to let any food go down the wrong pipe or get stuck in my throat, since I couldn’t cough well enough to clear my airway if it became clogged. The abdominal muscles that controlled that function were paralyzed, just like everything else from my chest down. I had choked on a hot dog once, a few months after my injury, and I would never forget the terrifying feeling of fighting – and failing – to get any air into my lungs. Between that and the week I’d spent on a ventilator after the accident, I would never take the ability to breathe for granted again.

“So, what do you do nowadays when you’re not busy being a dad?” Natalie asked, changing the subject.

I swallowed. “My friend Keith and I own a music studio and academy in Louisville, so I work there a few days a week, teaching classes and mentoring aspiring musicians. I’ve been trying to get back into making music myself – not just singing, but playing and writing songs. I played the piano before my accident, which isn’t so easy with paralyzed fingers, but I’ve been relearning how to do it with a pair of adapted styluses, one in each hand.”

“Wow, that’s awesome!” She smiled. “I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

Sometime. It was the second time she’d said that, as if she was hoping to see me again after that night, after we both went home.

“Maybe you will,” I said, smiling back at her. “Otherwise, I work out a few times a week with my P.T. and-”

“P.T.?” she interjected. “Is that a physical therapist or a personal trainer?”

“Whichever you want it to be,” I replied with a smirk. “For me, they are one in the same. I call my physical therapy sessions ‘workouts’ because… well, they kind of are.”

“Of course, they are!” she said quickly. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“No worries,” I reassured her. “But, yeah, when I’m not doing that or hanging out with Mason, I mostly sit on my ass at home and watch sports.”

“I love sports!” Natalie said, her eyes shining. “What’s your favorite one to watch?”

“I’ve always been a football guy.”

“NFL or college?”

“Both. We don’t have any pro teams in Kentucky, where I’m from, so I grew up watching college ball and cheering for the Kentucky Wildcats. But my wife was a Kansas City girl, and she turned me into a Chiefs fan. So, now I have an NFL team to root for, too.”

“Same here,” said Natalie, taking a sip of her wine. “I mean, I try to follow both, too, but for me, it’s the Atlanta Falcons and the Georgia Bulldogs. Gotta root for my home teams, you know? Football’s one of my favorite sports. I grew up watching it with my dad, and I was on the cheer squad in high school.”

“Oh, yeah? I can see that.” I smiled as I pictured her in a cheerleading uniform. It wasn’t hard to imagine; she had the perky sort of personality I associated with cheerleaders. “Believe it or not, I played football in high school.”

“What position?”

“Tight end.”

“Nice.” She raised a forkful of ravioli to her mouth, and I helped myself to more malfatti.

“So, what else do you do for fun?” I asked her when I finished chewing.

“I like to stay active,” she answered. “I work out when I can – usually yoga or Zumba. I love to go for walks or hikes.”

“Me too – or, at least, I did. That’s one of the things I miss most about being able-bodied,” I said, my throat tightening. “I still love getting outdoors, but it’s not the same now that I’m in a chair that can only go on flat ground. I used to hike through the hills all the time when I lived in California, just like I did as a kid in Kentucky.”

“That must have been a hard adjustment,” she said sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not your fault.” I wished I hadn’t said anything; I didn’t want her to feel sorry for me. “I really shouldn’t complain. I know I’m lucky to be alive and lucky to have as much function as I do. I’ve met other people with spinal cord injuries who have it much worse than me.”

“I’ve never known anyone with a spinal cord injury,” Natalie admitted. “I mean, of course, I’ve interacted with plenty of people in wheelchairs out in public and on my flights, but it’s not like I know any of them personally.”

I nodded. “I know what you mean. I was the same way – I’d met fans with disabilities, but I didn’t have any friends with spinal cord injuries before I got hurt and joined the club. It’s just not all that common.”

“Well, I’m happy to have met you,” she said, smiling at me.

“Same here. I hope we can stay in touch after we go back home,” I said, trying not to sound too desperate. “I mean, you do have my number.”

She nodded. “And you have mine. I’d love to stay in touch.”

Once Natalie had taken the last bite of her entree, our waitress came by to take away her plate. “Still working on that?” she asked me, looking pointedly at my plate, which was still half full.

“No, I’m finished, too,” I said, pushing it towards her. “Thanks.”

“Can I tempt you with dessert?”

I looked at Natalie, who shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m stuffed.”

“Wanna share a piece of tiramisu?” I offered. I normally tried not to eat too much when I was out in public so as not to risk upsetting my stomach, but I wasn’t ready for the date to end. Ordering dessert would drag it out a little longer.

“Well, all right… twist my arm, why don’t you?” she said with a wink.

The waitress smiled. “I’ll bring that right out to you.”

After she walked away, Natalie gave me a questioning look. “Was your meal not very good?”

I remembered her asking me the same question about breakfast on the plane. “No, it was delicious. I just don’t have much of an appetite anymore. I dunno if it’s because I burn fewer calories being in this chair or because it takes me so long to eat that I get full before I can finish a meal or because it’s harder for me to tell if I’m even hungry in the first place. Like, I know when I need to eat because I’ll get light-headed, but I don’t really feel hunger pangs the way I used to. Weird, huh?”

“Wish I had that problem,” she replied with a laugh.

No, you don’t, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud, not wanting to make her feel bad. People said that sort of stuff to me all the time without realizing how insensitive they sounded, but I would never wish any part of my disability on them. They had no idea how hard it was to feel detached from over three-fourths of my body. Sure, I didn’t feel hunger or pain below my level of injury, but I didn’t experience any pleasant sensations down there either. I couldn’t feel the softness of plush carpet under my feet or the squish of wet sand between my toes. I couldn’t feel the warmth of my son’s hand holding mine or the cool breeze on my bare legs when I wore shorts in the springtime. And, of course, I couldn’t feel anything between my legs, where men were supposed to be the most sensitive. If I ever worked up the courage to try making love with another woman, I wouldn’t be able to feel her touching me there. Where was the pleasure in that?

“I’m always hungry, and it’s so hard to eat healthy when I’m away from home,” Natalie went on obliviously. “Thank goodness I have a high metabolism. When that goes, I don’t know what I’ll do. Get fat, I guess.”

I forced a laugh as the waitress set a slice of tiramisu down in front of me. Sitting on a small plate with two forks and a generous dusting of cocoa powder, it looked divine. “Perfect timing,” I said, smiling at Natalie. “Let’s get fat together.”

She giggled. “Can I come sit next to you? That way, neither of us will have to reach across the table.”

“Of course.” I backed up my chair a few feet, pulling with one hand to adjust the angle of my front wheels before I rolled forward again to make more room for her. She scooted her chair around to my side of the table, sitting so close that I could smell the flowery scent of her perfume over the heavy garlic aroma that permeated the air. She pulled the plate toward us and picked up one of the forks as I fit my thumb and forefinger through the loops of the one I’d brought.

“Mmm,” Natalie sighed, closing her eyes as she swallowed the first bite. “Amazing.”

I carefully cut off a corner of the creamy, layered cake and put it in my mouth. “Mm-hmm,” I agreed, savoring the sweetness of the mascarpone and ladyfingers mixed with the bitter flavor of espresso.

Despite neither of us being hungry, we managed to finish the whole dessert. “That was delicious,” said Natalie after I had paid the bill. “Thank you.”

“Thanks for the recommendation,” I replied. “You were right; it was really good.”

“Yes, but now I have garlic breath.” She opened her purse and pulled out a tin of Altoids. “Mint?”

“Please,” I said, holding out my hand. She placed a peppermint in my palm, and I popped into my mouth. “Thank you.”

Before we left the restaurant, I excused myself to the restroom to empty my bladder in case she wanted to go anywhere else afterward. It was a good thing I did because when I got back to the table, she said, “If you’re not in any big hurry to get back to your hotel, I thought we could take a little stroll through Kensington Gardens. It’s only a few blocks from here.”

“That sounds great,” I agreed, delighted that she seemed to be enjoying herself as much as I was on this date.

She held the door for me again as we went outside. The sun had long since gone down, and I could tell the temperature had dropped several degrees, but I didn’t care. I felt warm and comfortable with her walking beside me as I wheeled myself down the sidewalk. There was no moon in the black sky overhead, but the streetlamps provided plenty of light as we made our way toward Kensington Palace and its sprawling gardens.

As usual, people gawked as they walked past me. I never knew if they were staring because they recognized my face but couldn’t quite place me, or if it was because of the wheelchair. The ones who didn’t stare quickly dropped their gaze to avoid making eye contact, pretending they didn’t see me at all. The staring made me self-conscious, but being treated like I was invisible was almost worse. I tried not to let it bother me as we rounded a corner and continued down Kensington High Street.

Soon, I could see the dark outlines of trees up ahead. We crossed the street and followed the wrought iron fence surrounding the garden until we found the nearest gate. It was closed. “Oh, no,” said Natalie, hurrying ahead of me to read the sign mounted to one of the tall, brick pillars. As I followed after her, she turned away from the gate with a frown, disappointment written across her face. “It closes at dusk. Sorry… I didn’t know.”

“That’s okay,” I said with a shrug. “How about Hyde Park? It’s just a little further, isn’t it? And I think it stays open later.”

“Oh, good point! Let me check before we go any further.” She took out her phone and did a quick Google search, her thumbs flying across the screen. “You’re right,” she said a few seconds later. “It’s open until midnight. It’s almost a mile from here, though. Can you make it that far?”

I could already feel the strain in my shoulders from pushing myself a few blocks, but I didn’t want to seem weak in front of her. Besides, the exercise would help me stay warm. “I’ll be fine. Let’s just make it a leisurely stroll, shall we?”

She smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

I wished I could hold her hand as we set off down the sidewalk, but it wasn’t possible to wheel myself in a straight line with only one hand. Even though she stayed right by my side, I hated feeling so far away from her, separated not only by the physical barrier of my wheelchair but also by the height difference between us. Natalie wasn’t as tall as Kristin, who had been four inches shorter than me, but she still towered over me as I sat in my chair. My head didn’t even come up to her shoulder. Remembering how Kristin and I used to take romantic walks on the beach, hand-in-hand or with our arms wrapped around each other, I realized I would never be able to walk alongside a woman that way again.

Despite her slow and steady pace, I struggled to keep up with Natalie as we got closer to the park. By the time we passed through its open gate, my arms were burning. “Do you mind if we find somewhere to sit and rest for a few minutes?” I finally asked as we started down one of the paths.

“Not at all. My feet could use a break, too. I should have worn better walking shoes,” she replied, frowning. We stopped at a nearby bench, where Natalie plopped down and immediately pulled off one of her flats. “Sorry,” she said as she propped her bare foot up on the opposite knee and rubbed her arch. “You’re not one of those people who are grossed out by feet, are you?”

I laughed as I parked my chair next to her. “No, you’re fine. I used to make fun of my wife’s feet – she was a dancer, so they could be pretty gnarly-looking – but they didn’t really bother me.” A lump rose in my throat as I remembered laughing with Kristin in the car just before the crash that had killed her. The last thing she’d heard me say to her had been some comment about her feet. I was pretty sure she had encouraged it, taunting me by taking off her shoe and wiggling her long toes at me, but even so, I would have given anything to go back to that moment and tell her how much I loved her instead.

“Well, good, because flight attendants’ feet aren’t a whole lot better,” Natalie said with a grin, bringing me back to the present.

“I think you have nice feet,” I said, noticing her pedicured toes, the nails painted pink.

“Thanks.” Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t have a foot fetish, do you?”

I chuckled. “No. You don’t have a wheelchair fetish, do you?” I retorted, remembering what Dawn had told me about “devotees.”

“What?! No!” She giggled. “I mean, it doesn’t bother me that you’re in a wheelchair, but I’m not attracted to you because you are.”

I raised my eyebrows at the way she emphasized the word because instead of the word attracted. “Does that mean you are attracted to me?” I asked before I could stop myself.

She returned my look of surprise. “Did I not make that obvious enough? Why else would I have brought your necklace back to you in person instead of leaving it in lost and found at the airport?”

My mouth fell open as I remembered Keith telling me she must have been into me for this very reason. “Because you’re a nice person? Because you didn’t want me to have to fill out those forms and pay a fee to get it back?”

“Well, sure, that may be true, too, but I still probably wouldn’t have gone to the trouble for just any passenger,” she replied with a shrug.

I felt naive for not realizing that right away. It had been so long since I’d played the dating game that I was hopelessly out of practice. I was a forty-year-old man, but at that moment, I felt more like a fourteen-year-old boy.

“Besides…” Natalie slipped her shoe back on and scooted a little closer to me. “I thought the feeling might be mutual. One of my crewmates caught you checking me out on the plane.”

My face flushed. “Guilty as charged,” I confessed, flashing her a sheepish smirk.

She giggled again. “Flight attendants are pretty observant people. We don’t miss much. As punishment, I hereby sentence you to a kiss.”

Before I could react, she leaned over and caught my mouth with hers, pressing her lips against mine. I could taste a trace of peppermint as I kissed her back. It made my lips tingle even after we pulled apart. I looked at her in disbelief, blood rushing to my head and probably other parts of my body as my heart pounded. That was nothing like the little peck Lisa had given me at the end of our blind date back in February. I hadn’t been kissed like that in more than four years, not since midnight on that fateful New Year’s Eve.

Natalie shot me a flirtatious smile. “I don’t usually kiss a guy on the first date, but technically, this is our second, right? I mean, you did ask me out for drinks yesterday.”

I nodded. “That’s right. I did.”

Before either of us could say anything else, my phone rang. I groaned as I reached for it, fishing it out of the pocket on the side of my chair. Nick’s name and number were flashing on the screen. I hesitated for a few seconds before I finally decided not to ignore him. “Hang on one sec,” I said to Natalie as I swiped to take the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Kev!” Nick sounded almost surprised to hear my voice. “How’s it goin’, dawg?”

“Uh… it was going well. Then you called. In the middle of my date.”

He laughed. “Sorry. I just called to check on you since you hadn’t texted anyone back.”

“Huh?” Pulling my phone away from my ear, I looked down to see several unread text messages in my notifications at the top of the screen. “Whoops. Sorry; I didn’t hear my phone. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I came by your room to see if you were ready to start your night routine, and Keith said you weren’t back yet. We just wanted to make sure you hadn’t been abducted or something.”

“What, by aliens? Or by my date?”

“Either. Human trafficking’s a thing, bro. I bet that flight attendant has connections all around the world.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like anyone would be interested in a quadriplegic sex slave.”

“Hey, you never know. There’s a fetish for every-”

“I’m fine, Nick,” I assured him. “I’ll be back later.”

“When?”

“I don’t know – later!”

“Well, call me when you do if you still want my help,” he said and abruptly hung up.

I felt bad for being so short with him. Nick had always had my back, and without Dawn there to do my night routine, I was dependent on him to help me get ready for bed. I knew it was rude of me to keep him waiting up, wondering where I was and when I would get back to the hotel.

Putting my phone back in its pocket, I looked up to find Natalie watching me with wide eyes. “What was all that about?” she asked. “Was that Nick Carter?”

I nodded. “He was just calling to make sure I was okay. I must have missed a few text messages from my friends, wondering when I was coming back to the hotel.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What did aliens and quadriplegic sex slaves have to do with that?”

I laughed. “He was worried I’d been abducted.”

She arched an eyebrow. “How do you know you haven’t been?” Before I could react, she jumped up from the bench, darted behind my chair, and grabbed my push handles. “Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! I’ve got you now!” she cackled in a voice like a cartoon villain as she broke into a run, pushing me down the pathway as fast as she could.

I burst out laughing as I was thrown against my back rest. The cold wind whipped against my face as my wheelchair flew across the pavement. It felt good to be moving so fast, almost like I was running again myself.

“I’m going to hold you for ransom! One million dollars,” Natalie said, now sounding more like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. She was already panting from the effort of pushing me. “Your precious Backstreet Boys had better pay up, or I’ll make sure they never find you!”

“No, please!” I played along, pleading weakly as she pushed my chair in a zigzag pattern, weaving back and forth across the pavement. “Not one million dollars! How will they ever come up with that much money?”

She giggled, her warm breath tickling the back of my neck, and finally slowed back down to a walk. “Fine. How about a trade?” she said. “I hear your Backstreet Boys have connections with my beloved New Kids on the Block. Have them hook me up with a meet-and-greet, and I’ll let you go.”

“Done,” I said.

Releasing my handles, Natalie came around to the front of my chair to face me. “Really? Because you know I was just kidding, right?”

I chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do. You’re not gonna be back in London on the twenty-ninth, are you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Actually, I might be. I fly this route pretty often. Let me check my schedule.” She pulled out her phone again and opened her calendar app. “Well, whaddaya know… I am! I’m working the exact same flight in two weeks – Atlanta to London on Saturday night, London to Atlanta on Tuesday morning. The twenty-ninth is a Sunday, so that’s the first day of my layover.”

“NKOTBSB has a concert here that night. I can’t promise a meet-and-greet, but I could probably hook you up with a pair of tickets.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? That would be amazing! But, seriously, you don’t have to do that; I’m not trying to take advantage of you or anything.”

“I know, but it’s the least I can do for the girl who returned a priceless piece of jewelry to me, purely out of the kindness of her own heart.” I winked at her as I wheeled myself forward.

She grinned. “I’m glad you were on my flight,” she said as she walked next to me. “I’ve had a lot of fun hanging out with you these last two days.”

“Me too,” I said, smiling back at her.

We followed the meandering footpaths through the park, crossing the bridge over the lake and looking at the lighted fountains and memorials along the way. By the time we got to the gate on the other side of the park, my arms were tired again, as were Natalie’s feet.

The temperature had continued to drop. As Natalie stood on the curb, attempting to hail a black cab to take us back to where we were staying, I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck and zipped up my jacket, trying to ward off the chill. By the time one of the taxis pulled up in front of us, I was freezing cold.

“Are you okay?” Natalie asked, looking at me with concern as I shivered inside the warm cab.

“I will be. My body can’t regulate its temperature below my level of injury, so it just takes me a lot longer to warm up once I get cold,” I tried to explain through chattering teeth. “I’ll take a hot shower once I get back to the hotel. That should help.”

“You can come up to my room to shower if you’d like,” she said, giving me a sidelong glance as the taxi pulled up in front of her hotel.

I laughed, assuming she was just joking, although I wasn’t entirely sure she was. Fifteen years ago, when I was on my first European tour with the Backstreet Boys, and Kristin and I were temporarily broken-up, I might have taken her up on her offer. I was on top of the world then – young, wild, and free, having the time of my life while foreign women threw themselves at my feet. The temptation was still there, but now, I was a middle-aged man in a wheelchair, trapped inside a body that no longer worked the way I wanted it to. I knew I was nowhere near ready to take things to the next level with Natalie, no matter how tempting she was.

“Thanks, but I’d better just head back to my own hotel,” I replied, deciding not to ruin the romantic night by explaining about roll-in showers and commode chairs. “Besides, don’t you have an early flight tomorrow?”

She sighed. “Sadly, yes, I do. I guess I should get to bed soon, huh?”

I smiled at her. “Goodnight, Natalie. Have a safe flight home.”

“You too. I hope we can talk soon,” she said, smiling back.

I nodded. “I’ll call you once I get back to Kentucky.”

She reached out and wrapped her arms around me, giving me a quick hug. “Goodnight, Kevin,” she said as she opened the car door, letting a burst of cold air inside. Shivering, I watched her walk into her hotel as the cab pulled away.

I was still freezing when I arrived back at my own hotel. I hurried across the lobby to the elevator, looking forward to sitting under a stream of steaming hot water until I felt warm again. As I waited for the elevator to reach the ground floor, I gave Nick a call. “Hey, man, I’m sorry about earlier,” I said when he answered. “I’m heading up to my room now. Are you still willing to help me get ready for bed?”

“Of course, bro. I’ll be right over,” Nick replied as if nothing was wrong. “Can’t wait to hear how it went.”

Relieved, I rolled into the elevator and got off on my floor. I found Nick waiting outside my room.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping his knuckles on the door.

“Hey,” I echoed, fumbling with my wallet. Before I could fish out my room key, Keith opened the door.

“Hey, there you are,” he said, holding the door open wide so I could get inside. “How’d it go?”

“Good,” I replied. “Really good.”

He and Nick followed me into the room. “Are you okay?” Keith asked, frowning as he came in front of me. “You’re shaking.”

“Yeah… I’m just cold from being outside. Do you mind if I take a shower before bed?” I asked, turning my attention back to Nick. “It’s the fastest way for me to get warm.”

“That’s fine,” he said with a shrug. I knew he probably wasn’t thrilled about hanging out longer to help me in the shower, but he never complained. With his assistance, I transferred from my wheelchair to the bed to take off my clothes, then to my waterproof shower chair for the short ride into the bathroom.

I sat and shivered with nothing but a thin towel wrapped around my body as Nick turned on the water. “Make it as hot as you can stand,” I told him.

He gave me a wary look. “What if it gets too hot? I don’t wanna scald you.”

“I can still feel temperature up here,” I reminded him, motioning toward my top half. “I’ll be able to tell if it’s too hot.”

“Okay… if you insist.” He cranked the faucet further to the left.

Within a few minutes, the bathroom was filled with steam. I shook off my towel as Nick rolled me into the shower. The hot water felt heavenly once it hit my back and shoulders. I tipped my head back, letting it run down my face and the front of my body. “You don’t have to stand there and watch the whole time,” I told Nick, wiping my eyes with my fists. “I’m just gonna sit here for a while and warm up. I’ll let you know if I need help with anything.”

“Okay,” he said, pulling the shower curtain closed to give me some privacy. “But I still wanna hear how your date went!”

“I told you, it was good!” I called through the curtain. “We ate at an Italian place, and that was really good. Great food. Great conversation. Then we went to Kensington Gardens, but it was already closed, so we headed to Hyde Park. We walked around and talked some more… and right before you called, we kissed.”

“Really?” I could tell by his tone of voice that he was smiling on the other side of the curtain. “No wonder you were pissed at me,” he said, snickering.

“Yeah… but it’s all right. We had a really nice time.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You deserve to be happy,” he said. “Hopefully I get to meet this girl soon.”

“She’s flying home to Atlanta tomorrow, but she’ll be back in London in two weeks… just in time for the show you’re livestreaming. Think you could hook me up with a couple tickets for the twenty-ninth? And maybe a pair of VIP passes? She’s a big New Kids on the Block fan.”

He laughed. “Ah, I see… so that’s why she was so interested in you,” he joked. “Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem. Remind me to call Jordan in the morning to get her name added to their VIP list.”

“Thanks, man. She’ll be thrilled. Hey, can you hand me a washcloth?” Already, I was feeling warmer.

Nick’s hand appeared around the curtain, holding a washcloth with a liberal amount of body wash already squirted into the middle. I used it to wash my chest, arms, and between my legs, all the parts of my body I could reach. I needed Nick’s help to wash my back and the bottom half of my legs.

When I was finally warm, I had Nick turn off the water and wheel me out of the shower. He wrapped me in a towel and patted me dry before he pushed me back into the room to get ready for bed.

Once I was warm and cozy under the covers, Nick told me goodnight and went back to his own room. Keith turned off the lights and climbed into the other bed. “‘Night, Kev,” he called as he rolled over, putting his back to me.

“‘Night.” I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t fall asleep right away. Again, I lay awake, reflecting on the day’s events, reliving the kiss with Natalie, and trying to remember every detail of our evening together. I hadn’t felt this way about anyone since… Kristin.

I felt a little stab of guilt when I realized I had forgotten to ask Nick to put my infinity necklace back on. But when I finally fell asleep that night, I’m pretty sure I was wearing a smile on my face.

***