Chapter 72

“You’ve got me wide open, wide open. Now I’m yours…”

I watched through the window of the recording booth as AJ laid down his vocals for yet another new song. Considering we had recorded more than forty songs so far, I hoped it would be our last. We already had enough material for three or four full-length albums, which was going to make it incredibly difficult for us to narrow it down to twelve tracks. But, even though we technically didn’t need another song, none of us could turn down the opportunity to work with our longtime collaborator, Max Martin, again.

“A little softer,” said Max as he sat at the mixing console in the control room. “AJ, think ‘Girl Come Back to You,’ back when we were young.”

AJ chuckled. “I’ll try to be softer,” he said into the mic before recording another take.

“You got me,” Brian sang along as he and Nick played ping-pong in a back corner of the studio. “Whoops!” He went to fetch the small, white ball after it sailed past his paddle.

“I think we should keep the ping-pong sound in there, just like a little ambient noise, you know,” said AJ as we listened to the playback. “You got me…” He made ping-pong noises as he mimed hitting a ball back and forth between his two hands.

Everyone laughed. Spirits were high inside the studio. Working with Max again made it feel almost like old times, although we were a long way from Stockholm. For our recording session, he had booked the iconic Conway Recording Studios in Hollywood, where we would be following in the footsteps of legendary artists like Elton John, Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, and Willie Nelson, who had worked there decades before us.

Despite my excitement over the opportunity to record in a place that had such a renowned history, I had been slightly apprehensive about seeing Max for the first time since my accident. Would he treat me differently now that I was in a wheelchair? I’d wondered. Would coming face-to-face with such an important figure from my past be painful for me? I’d worried. While I had nothing but good memories of working with Max on our first few albums, they reminded me how much my life had changed in the eight years since we’d last worked together.

But, as it turned out, I had no reason to be nervous. When I’d rolled into the studio, Max had welcomed me with open arms. “It’s good to see you,” he’d said, patting me on the back as I leaned into his embrace. “You look good, brother.”

“You too,” I’d replied as he released me. “Sorry I’m late.” As the result of a particularly rough bowel program, my two-hour morning routine had taken even longer than usual that day, making it so that I was already running late before Natalie got stuck in rush-hour traffic on the way to drop me off at the studio. I apologized but didn’t elaborate on why I was the last one to arrive; no one needed to hear all the gory details of my digestive troubles.

“So, what else is new?” Max flashed me a good-natured smile. “You always were a tidsoptimist – that’s what we Swedes call someone who is habitually late. I see nothing much has changed.”

I grinned back with relief when I realized he wasn’t going to act awkward around me. “Guilty as charged.”

We got right to work on the new song Max had written for us, a catchy mid-tempo called “In a World Like This.” Like most of Max’s hits, it was a love song. There was a time, as recently as one year earlier, when I might have struggled to record a song like this without wallowing in grief over losing the love of my life. But now that I was in another committed relationship, I found that the uplifting lyrics didn’t even remind me of Kristin. Instead, they made me think of Natalie.

What a difference a year makes, I mused, smiling to myself as I listened to AJ sing.

“You got me wide open, wide open. Now I’m yours.
You found me heartbroken, heartbroken on the floor…”

I thought about how far Natalie and I had come in the last eleven months, from meeting on the flight to London to making plans to move in together and all the moments we’d shared in between. I remembered how reserved I had felt around her on our first date, how hesitant I had been to expose her to the most unpleasant parts of my disability: autonomic dysreflexia, erectile dysfunction, incontinence. Any of it could have been a dealbreaker for a beautiful, able-bodied, young woman like Natalie, and I’d worried it would scare her away. “There’s no way in hell I’m talking her through my bowel program,” I had told Dawn after we’d been dating for a few months. “I don’t want her to do this. It’s disgusting.” I’d never imagined that there would come a day when Natalie felt comfortable doing all of my personal care – or that I would ever feel comfortable allowing her to. But, gradually, she had taken over more and more of Dawn’s attendant duties, to the point that she had become my primary caregiver whenever she was with me.

And, despite my initial reservations, I didn’t mind it as much as I’d thought I would. Natalie brought a new and different dynamic to my same, old morning and night routines, finding little ways to make caring for me seem fun and sexy whenever she could. Whether she was stealing a kiss between stretches, performing a striptease as she took my clothes off, or giving me a sensual back massage before she began my bowel program, she managed to make me feel not only comfortable but desirable.

“You got me wide open, wide open. Now I’m yours…”

“That sounds really good, AJ,” said Max, nodding as he played back the recording. “All right, Brian – you’re next!”

“Yo, Kev, come take my place!” Brian called from the ping-pong table.

“Okay.” I wheeled myself over to the corner of the wood-paneled room where he and Nick had been playing, positioning myself on one end of the table. “Sing pretty,” I said to Brian as he placed his paddle in my left hand, wrapping my fingers around the handle. I extended my wrist, using tenodesis to keep them in a tightly-curled position.

“I’ll certainly try,” he replied with a tight-lipped grin that looked more like a grimace.

Knowing his confidence had been low since our last recording session, I held out my free hand to give him a fist bump. “You got this, cuz,” I told him as our knuckles collided.

“Thanks. So do you,” he said, flashing me a brief but genuine smile. “Kick Carter’s butt for me!” he called over his shoulder as he trotted off to the sound booth.

Standing at the opposite end of the table, Nick let out a snort of laughter. “In your dreams, Littrell!” he retorted. “No offense, Kev.”

“None taken. I’d rather be underestimated than overconfident,” I replied, raising my eyebrows at him.

Nick’s face reddened slightly. “Is this your first time playing ping-pong since…?” He left his question hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Since becoming paralyzed?” I finished it for him. “Actually, no. They had ping-pong tables at Rancho Colina. I played with other patients toward the end of my time there. It was a good way to practice my grip strength and hand-eye coordination.”

“Really?” His brow creased as he flashed me a look of confusion. “How come we never played when I visited you there?”

“I dunno… maybe ‘cause you only visited me there a few times? Y’all were on tour while I was in rehab,” I reminded him.

“Oh… right.” His face flushed even redder.

I hadn’t meant to make him feel guilty; I was just stating the facts. I hadn’t regained enough arm function to play ping-pong before the guys had flown overseas for the first leg of their Unbreakable tour. By the time they’d returned a month later, I had made enough progress to be discharged from the rehab hospital.

“I haven’t played in a long time, so I’m probably pretty rusty,” I said, wrapping my right hand around my left to help me hold on to the paddle. The last thing I wanted was for it to fly out of my hand and hit one of the expensive pieces of equipment that filled the studio. “You wanna serve first?”

“Sure.” Nick tossed the ball up and tapped it lightly toward me. As it bounced over the net, I took a swing at it and sent it sailing in a high arc off the side of the table.

“Whoops,” I said with a sheepish grin as he went chasing after the ball. “Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

“One-nothing.” Nick grinned back as he served it again, a little harder this time. I knew he was too competitive to let me win just because I was disabled. He probably knew it would only piss me off if he did.

Once I was warmed up, we were able to rally the ball back and forth for longer before it went out of bounds or one of us failed to return it. “Five-one,” Nick announced after I sent the ball into the far corner of his court, scoring my first point. “Not bad for a quad.”

“Thanks.” As I waited for him to fetch the ball he’d missed, I asked, “So, how much money do you think the girls have spent so far?”

Nick chuckled as he walked back over to the table with the small, white ball in his hand. “Your girl or mine? ‘Cause mine better not be spending too much money. We’ve got a wedding to pay for, ya know.”

I was grateful to Lauren for agreeing to take Natalie out for a “girls day” of lunch and shopping while Nick and I were working. As a Southern California native, she knew her way around L.A. better than Natalie and wasn’t intimidated by the traffic. Plus, this way, Natalie wouldn’t get bored hanging out at home by herself, waiting for me to call her to pick me up from the studio.

“Well, I gave Nat my credit card and told her to buy herself something nice to make up for what I put her through with my ‘program’ this morning,” I said with a grimace. “It wasn’t pretty.”

Nick’s chuckle became a full-on cackle. “It’s never been pretty, dawg – trust me,” he replied, flashing me a teasing grin. “You better be careful doing that; you don’t want her to start thinking she deserves a reward every time she helps you take a-”

“Who says she doesn’t? I mean, Dawn gets paid to do the same stuff Natalie’s been doing for free.”

“Natalie does it for the same reason AJ and I did: because she cares about you. Because she loves you,” he reminded me. “You’re the reward.”

“Some reward,” I scoffed, glancing down at myself.

Nick gave me a look. “C’mon, dude, don’t start doing that again.”

“Doing what?”

“Putting yourself down like that,” he replied, his frown deepening. “You deserve to be loved just as much as anyone else does. Don’t sell yourself short.”

His serious reaction to my sarcastic comment caught me by surprise. “Wise words. You should put ‘em in your book,” I said, changing the subject. “How’s that coming along, anyway?”

“It’s basically done. We’re looking at a release date in September.” Despite his casual tone, I could tell by the way the corners of his mouth twitched upward that Nick was pleased with himself – as he should have been. He had come so far and accomplished so much in the past five years.

“Really? That’s awesome, man,” I said, impressed. “It’s shaping up to be a big year for you, what with your engagement, the new album, and now your first book. I couldn’t be more proud of you, brother.”

“Thanks,” Nick said again, his face turning pink. Still trying to play it cool, he tossed the ping-pong ball he’d been holding into the air and caught it. “So, how you gonna serve this thing while you’re holding your paddle with both hands?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “In rehab, they had to wrap an Ace bandage around the handle of the paddle to strap it to my hand, but I don’t have anything like that here.”

“Hm…” Nick looked thoughtfully around the studio. “Hang on a sec. Lemme see what I can find.” He rummaged through the storage cabinets that lined the length of one wall and emerged with a roll of masking tape. “This will work, won’t it?” he asked, holding it up.

I shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

While Nick wound the tape around my left hand, we listened to Brian warming up in the sound booth. “God, please let him have a good day today,” Nick muttered under his breath as Brian’s voice wavered. I said nothing but silently prayed that Nick would be as patient and compassionate with Brian as he was with me.

“How’s that feel?” Nick asked when he finished taping the paddle to my hand. I relaxed my left wrist, letting my limp fingers unfurl and my already weak grip loosen further. The paddle remained in place, freeing up my right hand to hold the ball.

“Pretty good,” I replied, nodding. “Thanks for doing that. Although, you might regret it later when you lose to a cripple. I’m coming for you now, Carter.” I brandished my paddle with a playful grin.

“Ha! We’ll see!” said Nick, smirking back at me as he placed the ball in my right hand. “Your serve, Richardson.”

I tossed the ball straight up and smacked it with my paddle on its way down, causing it to bounce off my court and over the net to Nick’s. It dropped onto the far corner of his court before bouncing off the table as he dove for it and missed.

“Damn! Nice one, dude,” he said as he trotted over to retrieve it. “Five-two.”

With my right hand free, I was able to wheel myself from one side of the table to the other, which made it much easier for me to reach the full width of my court. When Nick returned my next serve, we rallied the ball back and forth for almost a full minute before it finally hit the top of the net and fell onto his side of the table, bouncing twice before he touched it.

“Five-three,” I said, flashing him a triumphant grin. “Told you I was coming for you.”

If only Brian were having the same success in the sound booth. As Nick and I continued playing ping-pong, we could hear him struggling to get through his solo. “Became my salvation, salvation through the war,” he sang shakily, his voice cutting in and out as it rose and fell. “You got me wide open, wide open. Now I’m sure…”

“Why don’t we take a break?” Max finally told him after several failed takes. “Get some fresh air, maybe a cup of tea? Let’s meet back here in ten minutes.”

I turned to watch Brian walk out of the booth, his shoulders slumped and his head hung low. Before anyone else could say something to him, he ducked out the door that led to the patio outside the studio. Watching through one of the wide picture windows, I saw him plop down on the freestanding porch swing, where he sat with his back to the wall, rocking slowly.

“Well, shit,” Nick said in a low voice as he followed my gaze. “Do you think we should go out there and talk to him?”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I doubt it would make much difference. There’s nothing we could say that would make him feel better or fix the problem,” I replied, speaking from my own personal experience. “Brian doesn’t need another pep talk. He just needs our patience and understanding. Let’s leave him be for now and give him some time to get himself together.”

Nick nodded, but I could tell by his troubled expression that he still felt conflicted. “Uh-oh. Here comes Max,” he muttered as the music producer stood up and strode over to us.

“Hey, guys,” Max said softly, wearing a slight frown on his face. “I have to ask: What’s going on with Brian? Is he sick?”

Nick and I looked at each other, wondering what we should say. It wasn’t our place to disclose Brian’s diagnosis, but I didn’t think we should lie or try to cover it up either. Max had worked with us long enough to know when something was wrong.

“He’s not sick,” I said, wanting to offer Max some reassurance before his mind went to the worst-case scenario. Having worked with us before and after Brian’s heart surgery, he knew about Brian’s past health problems, and it was clear that he was coming to us from a place of concern.

“But what’s happening with his voice?” Max pressed. “This is not the Brian I knew before.”

As I exchanged glances with Nick again, he gave me a subtle nod, silently encouraging me to keep talking. Clearing my throat, I continued, “He’s been dealing with this vocal condition privately for the past couple years. Unfortunately, there’s not much he can do about it. It comes and goes. We just have to be patient with him and give him plenty of grace.”

“But, whatever you do, don’t threaten to replace him or take away his part. He won’t react well to that. He’s too stubborn to admit that it may be time for him to take a step back from the mic and let other voices shine,” Nick added, tipping his head toward me. “We’ve been trying to include Kev and Howie more on this album, which helps.”

I nodded. “We’ve also been incorporating more harmony into the verses, blending our voices with Brian’s to strengthen the sound.”

“I see,” said Max, rubbing the side of his neck thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea. So maybe we could bring AJ’s voice back in during Brian’s half of the verse – and do the same with the two of you in the second verse.” He spoke calmly but continued to look troubled by what we’d told him long after he had walked away.

A few minutes later, Brian came back in to finish recording his part. “Became my salvation, salvation through the war,” we heard him sing again and again. “You got me wide open, wide open…” I wished he would open up to Max about his condition, but he continued to pretend that nothing was wrong.

Finally, Max said, “Okay, Brian, that will do for now. I think we got enough good takes to put together. Nice work. Now I want to bring AJ back into the booth…”

As Max and AJ began working on the harmony, Brian walked back over to the ping-pong table, where Nick and I were finishing our second game. “What’s the score?” he asked us with forced casualness, his voice catching as a tight-lipped smile flickered across his face.

“Ten-nine Nick,” I replied as Nick ran to fetch the ball he had just missed. He had won the first game, eleven to eight, but the second game had been much closer.

“Kev’s catching up,” Nick said, grinning as he placed the ball in my free hand.

I held onto it for a moment as I focused on Brian, noticing the lines of tension etched across his forehead. His face looked thinner than it had in years, his high cheekbones jutting out prominently. There was none of the usual sparkle in his blue eyes as he smiled and said, “Way to go, cuz!” It was no wonder Max had worried he was sick.

“Thanks. You okay?” I asked, echoing his casual tone. I wanted to be supportive without sounding too concerned, recalling how tiresome that question had become after my accident, when I was the one struggling.

Brian shrugged. “I’m fine,” he said, the same way I’d insisted I was “fine” after falling face-first into the Salton Sea at our photo shoot. His nonchalant response reminded me of Dawn, who had continued to repeat that she was “fine” from her hospital bed – and of Nick, who had done the same almost five years earlier. While there may not have been anything physically wrong with Brian, I knew his pride had been wounded, whether he was willing to admit it or not.

“Okay.” I flashed him a quick smile. “You’re just in time to watch me kick Carter’s ass.” Letting the matter drop, I tossed the ball into the air and served it to Nick, who returned it to me, starting another rally that ended when the ball ricocheted off the net onto his court and rolled off the table. “All tied up, ten-ten!” I announced triumphantly. “Looks like we’re playing to at least twelve this time.”

Whether Nick let me win that second game or not, I’ll never know, but I ended up beating him by a score of twelve to ten. Afterward, knowing we would be needed next to sing the second verse, we let Brian and Howie have the ping-pong table and went back to the control room to watch AJ record.

When AJ had finished laying down the background vocals for the first verse, Nick went into the sound booth to start on the second. “And now I’m free falling, free falling in your eyes,” he sang with his eyes closed and his finger waving in front of him. “You got me still calling, still calling, no surprise…” After listening to Max’s feedback, he didn’t take long to nail his solo.

“That’s exactly it!” Max exclaimed after Nick’s fourth or fifth take. Then it was my turn in the booth. Nick set it up for me before he left, lowering the microphone and music stand to my level, making sure my lyrics were taped to the stand, and helping me with my headphones. I liked to wear them over my right ear but leave my left ear uncovered, so I could hear both Max and my own voice better.

I ran through a few vocal exercises to warm up my voice while Max adjusted the sound levels to match my volume. Nick’s singing voice was naturally louder than mine, but my decreased lung capacity made it difficult for me to project my voice the way I’d been able to before my injury. I simply didn’t have as much breath support as I used to, so my mic always had to be turned up more than the others.

As Max cued up the backing track, I looked over my two lines, trying to commit them to memory.

I never knew I could love ‘til the end of time.
And now I’m free falling, free falling by your side.

A lump swelled in my throat as I mulled over those lyrics. After losing Kristin, I couldn’t have imagined ever falling in love again. I’d assumed that I would spend the rest of my life alone, waiting to be reunited with my soulmate in the afterlife. But now that I had Natalie, I knew that wasn’t true. My feelings for her had proven to me that it was possible to be in love with more than one person at a time. How lucky was I to have one woman waiting for me in Heaven and another with whom I could live out the rest of my days on Earth?

That was the moment when I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to marry Natalie. The idea of marriage had been on my mind for months, but I’d had so many reservations, so many reasons why it might not work. But, at that moment, none of them seemed to matter anymore. Despite our age difference and my disability, I knew I could be a good husband to her. I just hoped she would feel the same way about becoming my wife.

“Okay, Kevin, we’re ready whenever you are,” I heard Max say, snapping me back to the recording studio.

Swallowing hard, I cleared my throat and closed my eyes to hide the tears that had welled up in them. “Okay,” I replied, trying to regain my composure. “I’m ready.”

***

“In a world like this, I’ve got you…”

At the end of our long day in the studio, the five of us sat around the control room, listening to a rough cut of the latest song we’d recorded.

“This is really good, fellas,” I said, looking around at the other guys. “Like, first single good.”

My bandmates nodded in agreement. All of them seemed to love the new song as much as I did. Maybe that would make it easier to narrow our choices down the next day, when we met to finalize the tracklisting for our album.

“In a world like this…” Brian’s recorded voice rang out, high and clear, over the background harmonies as the song segued from the second chorus into the bridge.

“You nailed that line, Rok,” said AJ, giving Brian a fist bump. Brian grinned.

“Shh,” said Nick, holding up his finger as the percussion faded out. “Here comes Howie’s part.”

A wide smile spread across Howie’s face as his voice crooned, “You’ve got me wide open, wide open, yeah… and now I’m free falling, free falling…”

“Aw, here it goes!” Nick bobbed his head to the beat as the drums kicked back in, building to the climax of the song.

“Heeeey, yeeeeah, yeeeeah…” AJ’s vocals sounded steady and strong.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah-ay!” Surprisingly, Brian’s vocals sounded just as powerful as he sang in the sweet spot of his range. “In a world like… in a world like…”

“Yeah, yeah!” Nick’s voice cut in as the song continued its crescendo to the last chorus.

“In a world like thiiiiiiiiiiiis…” I felt goosebumps erupt on the back of my neck as I listened to Brian hold the high note, sounding every bit as incredible as he would have singing it twenty years earlier. “We’re gonna make it…”

At the same time, the chorus showcased our signature harmonies, which were woven together like a silk tapestry – rich, tight, and beautiful.

“In a world like this, where some back down,
I, I know we’re gonna make it.
In a time like this, when loves come around,
I, I know we gotta take it
In a world like this, where people fall apart,
In a time like this, where nothing comes from the heart,
In a world like this, I’ve got you.”

By the last note, I had tears swimming in my eyes again. “Well done, y’all,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Really well done. I mean, that’s just the raw version, and it already sounds amazing. I can’t wait to hear the finished track.”

“Thank you, Max,” Howie added, tipping his head toward our producer.

“Yes, thank you, Max!” everyone echoed.

We left the studio that night with our heads held high, feeling confident that we’d finally finished recording the album. Now we faced the difficult task of deciding which tracks would make the final cut.

“What’s your favorite out of all the songs we’ve recorded?” I asked Nick as the two of us sat on the brick patio outside the studio. The other guys had left in a hurry – Howie and Brian both wanted to call their wives before they went to bed, and AJ was just as eager to get home to “his girls” these days – but Nick had offered to hang around with me while I waited for my ride. Natalie was on her way, but I knew it would take her some time to drive across town to the studio.

“Probably ‘Love Somebody,’” Nick replied, rocking back and forth on the swing. In the faint glow coming from the large solar lamp that stood in one corner, I could see a smile stretching across his face. “I may be biased, considering I co-wrote it, but, you know… it reminds me of Lauren.”

“I love that song, too,” I agreed, thinking of Natalie and her purple jeans. “By the way… I may need to take a leaf out of your book and ask Lo to take Nat shopping again sometime soon – to look at jewelry and let me know what she likes.”

“Jewelry, as in… engagement rings?” Nick looked over at me, his eyebrows raised.

I couldn’t hide my smile. “Uh-huh.”

He suddenly stopped swinging and sat up straighter. “You’re gonna do it? You’re gonna propose to her?”

“That’s the plan,” I replied. “I just need to talk to her parents first. We’re going down there for Easter at the end of the month, so I figure I can find some time to pull them aside for a private conversation then. I just hope they’ll approve.”

“I’m sure they will. Why wouldn’t they?”

“Oh, I dunno… maybe because I’m a decade older than their daughter?”

“Older and wiser,” Nick interjected with a crooked grin.

“And disabled,” I added.

“Less likely to commit domestic violence.”

“And already a dad, with no guarantee of being able to give them another grandbaby.”

“But you would be giving them another grandson. Mason may not be a baby anymore, but he’s still only, what, five? They’ve still got plenty of time to spoil him.”

“C’mon, man, you know what I mean.” But, despite my exasperated tone, I couldn’t be too annoyed with Nick. Deep down, I appreciated his attempt to counter my points and bolster my confidence.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” Nick replied. “But you’re only seeing the negatives. Try to focus on the positives. You’re a great guy, Kev. You’re kind… considerate… creative. You’re in touch with your sensitive side – chicks love dudes who aren’t afraid to talk about their feelings. Not to mention, you’re loaded! What woman doesn’t want a man with money?”

“It’s not Natalie I’m worried about; it’s her family,” I reminded him. “And I don’t think my money really matters to them. Hell, it may even be another ding against me.” I remembered how her sister had reacted to the expensive birthday gifts I’d given Natalie, how her father had questioned everything from the amount of luggage I’d brought with me to the large piece of farmland I lived on.

“Really?” Nick frowned. “I mean, I know how money can ruin a family, believe me… but you’d think they would want their daughter to marry a man who could support her financially.”

“Financially… but not physically.”

Nick made an impatient noise. “I’m not having this conversation with you again, dawg. You made a decision, and now you sound like you’re trying to talk yourself out of it!”

“I’m not trying to talk myself out of it. I’m just trying to prepare myself for what Nat’s parents might say.”

“Look, if you’re that worried about it, then forget talking to them first. That’s an old-fashioned tradition anyway,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Natalie’s a grown woman, not her parents’ property. It’s her answer that really matters, not theirs. You can deal with them later. Ask for forgiveness, not permission, you know?”

I shook my head. “You know I could never do that, Nick. I was raised with the same Southern values her folks instilled in her; that’s one of the few things her dad does seem to respect about me. If I didn’t ask him for his daughter’s hand, I’d be ruining my relationship with my future father-in-law. And that’s if Nat agreed to marry me anyway. I’m not sure she would go against her family’s wishes. Frankly, I wouldn’t want her to. If they won’t accept me, then… well, I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

“They’ll accept you,” Nick insisted. “Quit worrying about all the ‘what ifs’ and focus on what you can control – like where, when, and how you’re gonna pop the question.”

“Wise words,” I said, smiling at him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, brother.”

As if on cue, my phone dinged with a text from Natalie, letting me know she was parked outside the studio. Nick walked me out to the waiting van. Natalie sat in the driver’s seat with her window down and her head bent over her phone, so engrossed in whatever she was reading on its screen that she didn’t seem to notice us until Nick called, “Hey, Nat!” through the open window.

Her head shot up as she looked around, clearly startled. “Oh, hey, y’all! Sorry, I was spacing out here,” she said with a sheepish smile as she hurried to unfasten her seatbelt.

“No worries,” Nick replied. “You don’t have to get out; I can help Kev get in.”

“Oh! Well, okay, if you don’t mind. Thanks!”

“Not a problem.” Nick and I went around to the passenger side, where he slid open the back door and unfolded the ramp for me. “So, how was your girl time with Lo?” he asked Natalie as he followed me inside, bending down to fasten the buckles and straps that secured my chair to the floor.

“Great!” she replied. “We had lunch, got mani-pedis, and did a little shopping. I splurged on a pair of Lululemon leggings.” She ran her hand over her thigh, showing off both her French manicure and the skin-tight black yoga pants she wore with a light pink hoodie. I had no idea what “Lululemon” meant, but if they made her happy, that was all that mattered to me. “How did your day go?”

“Great!” he echoed her. “I think we’ve got a new frontrunner for our first single – right, Kev?”

Until Nick said my name, I hadn’t realized how quiet I had been. My mind was reflecting on our conversation, but, of course, neither he nor Natalie could hear my racing thoughts. “That’s right,” I agreed quickly, not wanting her to suspect anything. “I can’t wait for you to hear the song we recorded today, babe. It’s really frickin’ good.”

“I’m sure it is!” she replied. “When do you think I’ll get to hear it?”

“We meet tomorrow to finalize the track listing,” said Nick, tugging on my seatbelt to make sure it was fastened securely across my chest. “Once we know which songs will make the cut, we’ll probably start sharing some sneak peeks. We wanna play some of our new material at the fan event we’re doing next month.”

It was crazy to think that our twentieth anniversary was coming up in just over a month. Afterward, our schedule would be jam-packed with rehearsals and promotional appearances leading up to the release of our new album and the launch of our world tour. I wasn’t sure when Natalie and I would find time to plan a wedding. I knew Nick and Lauren were probably facing the same problem. But, one way or another, we would figure out how to make it work, just like we always did.

***