Chapter 21: Spooner or Later

*Joe's POV*

Nothing beat a shower after show, all the sweat replaced by clean warm water spouting down from the shower head above my body. When I closed my eyes, feeling the liquid purposely running down my face, the world dwelled into quietude.

No more screams. No more chanting. No more clicks of the metronome from my in-ear monitors. No more cues. No more instruments. Nothing but my own breathing, slow and stable. Not even my deep inner thoughts disrupted my peace.

It only lasted for a minute or two, when I had no choice but to open my eyes back to reality. The hotel's water pressure was too high even for me, each line of water feeling like burning lightning as it hit my skin. Some TV show had been muffled in the background from the bedroom, something I randomly put on as soon as I walked in my room to replace the silence that reminded me just how lonely it was without my daughters with me on the road. And my phone was no longer playing my Spotify playlist, the loud vibrations of it shaking on the sink countertop temporarily stopping it.

The anxiety-ridden curiosity got the best of me to quickly finish my shower, hopping out with a gust of cold air immediately forming goosebumps with the change in temperature. After wiping my hands on the towel I wrapped around my waist, I picked my phone up to see a missed call from Natalia.

I never replied back to her text from a week ago, yet she still had the balls to call me at two in the morning. At this rate, I debated on calling back, already going to the assumption that she relied on me to be her knight in shining armor. Then I remembered the last time she needed my rescue, along with my brothers' take on the situation and the picture of the half-assed patched up hole in the wall.

After putting on a pair of black boxer briefs once drying myself off and slipping under the typical thick white duvet, my bare chest somewhat uncovered, I gave in to the temptation. I wasn't sure why she had such a hold on me. It couldn't have been the fact that she was a challenge with being unavailable for the simple fact she was in a relationship that confused the fuck out of me. When we met, she was single just like me. Well, I guess not completely like me. She clearly had her ex to reconcile with, which I didn't blame him for waiting a whole year for her. He was lucky to be given a second chance.

I didn't have that opportunity. There were no more chances with my ex, nor did I want that. Not anymore, at least. And no other woman compared to Natalia, them either becoming too obsessed or on the same level as benefits-only to where everything was surface level.

Mentally bracing myself, I turned the TV down a couple notches and hovered my finger over her missed call. No matter what the circumstances were, this was going to be tough.

If she needed me, I couldn't order her an Uber and whisk her away for a few hours. But if she didn't need me, I knew this was going to be the time where she chose for us to catch up. The last thing I wanted was to hear about her engagement.

I hit the missed call and put it on speaker, then rested my head on the pillows behind me as I held the phone up in front of me. Every unanswered ring created more anticipation, my heart racing a mile a minute.

Then her face appeared with a smile, no makeup needed to capture her beauty, "Hey! Wait, were you sleeping? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You think I sleep with the light on?" I retorted, "I'm not that much of a psychopath."

"So you're admitting you are a psychopath," she smirked, walking out of her bedroom to the kitchen, "See though, a psychopath would never admit to being one. Unless you're trying to use reverse psychology. Then I guess you would be."

I gazed off to the side, trying to understand her detailed logic on something that was only supposed to be a one-line tease that got a laugh, "Right. Okay, yeah."

"Nevermind," she opened her fridge by the sound of it, but whatever she grabbed out of it was a mystery, "So how's the tour? I've seen some clips online. You guys put 'Walls' back on the setlist?"

I had forgotten I confided in her about sacrificing my favorite song when we were stuffing our mouths in some burgers and fries, "Just for the first two shows. After that, I kinda had to learn the hard way that that song takes a lot out of me. Both mentally and physically. So we decided it's probably best that it stays off. It's not a forever loss anyways. I can still perform it in the future for a special show or something, you know?"

"Yeah, but," she paused, leaning the phone against ledge of the kitchen counter to use both hands to open her water bottle, "I know that song still means something to you. I'm glad you were able to perform it at least for those two shows."

"Me too," I cleared my throat, changing the topic away from what was deep under my skin, "So why are you up at this hour?"

"Why are you up at this hour?" she reverted the question back on me, taking a sip from the water bottle in her hand.

"Well, I had a show. Then took a shower at the venue, which somehow ended with us staying there way longer than planned. Met a few fans outside before leaving. Then took another proper shower at the hotel. And now I'm talking to you," I stated matter-of-factly, with a slight hint of sass, "Your turn."

"Uh, Noah started nightshift. It makes it easier to have an actual conversation with other people when he's away and all," she bit the inside corner of her bottom lip, starting to nervously gaze away as she fidgeted with the cap of the water bottle, "And I wanted to talk to you."

I gulped, most likely going to regret my follow-up question, "About?"

"If we're okay," she took hold of her phone and headed to her dining area, sitting in one of the chairs to lean in for support, "When you didn't reply to my text, I got the sense that you were mad I wasn't able to be at the first show."

"I wasn't mad that you weren't there," I admitted, "I was mad that you didn't answer a single one of my texts for almost a week. Not to tell me you couldn't make it to the show, but just in general if everything's okay."

After a brief delay, she replied in a weak defense, "I did text you back though."

"Yeah, after you saw I liked your Instagram post," I argued back, snappier than intended, but it felt needed.

She glanced downwards, fighting on what words were justifiable, "I'm sorry. Genuinely, I am. I should've updated you that night or the morning after at the very least. I'm shit at keeping in touch, and then when I finally realize I forgot to message someone back, I get more embarrassed on it being too late of a response. So, in turn, I just don't."

"Well," I sighed out, adjusting my body to a more relaxed position, sinking into the mattress, "Seems like you got one of your shits together."

"You mean my engagement?" she asked.

I nodded, still unable to congratulate her. Could I have truly forced it? Yeah. But I chose not to. It would've made it feel more real if I had.

"Can I tell you about it?" she inquired, "How it happened?"

This was what I was dreading if it weren't her crying on the line because of him again. But I was intrigued on how extravagant this engagement had to have been for her to say yes right after he cheated, "As long as it doesn't involve a flash mob, tell me."

"No flash mob, no," she lightly laughed, "Wait, let me get it so you can have visual effects with the story."

Perfect. Not only did I have to hear about it. I also had to visualize it.

She stood up and walked back in the kitchen before going back into the dining chair, an item in one of her hands out of view for the most part. Enough that I had zero clue as to what it was.

"Hang on. Let me flip the camera for a second," I heard her fingernail tap on the screen once, the camera flipping to her dining table instead of her face, "So, you know how you asked me if we were committed?"

Unfortunately, I did, "Yeah."

"It made me wonder if we actually were, especially on his end since, you know..." she paused, "So I asked him, and he responded by making me close my eyes. I swear, it felt like ten minutes, but it was probably not even two. Three tops. And then he put this in my hand."

I brought my phone closer to my face, squinting at the item now in frame laying on one of the placemats while wondering how in the hell this led to their engagement.

"He told me he saw it at the flea market. It made him think of me, because I'm always on his mind even when I'm not physically with him," I could hear her smile in her voice as she spoke, "Just like the spoon says, I'm his 'home sweet home'. Everyone should be with their home forever. And that's when he proposed with those exact words. That he wants to come back from work to his home sweet home every day."

I blinked a few times, trying my damnedest not to show what I was truly feeling. Flabbergasted.

"It might not be a flashy, expensive ring," she continued, slightly catching onto my facial expressions that simply couldn't hide the shock value, "But like I told you, a ring doesn't define being committed."

"You're right. It doesn't," I agreed, mainly more on autopilot so my cover wouldn't be blown. I glanced towards the opened bedroom door to absolutely nothing, but that wasn't information she needed to be aware of, "Hey, can you give me a minute? I think someone's knocking on my door. At this hour, it's a bit weirdly concerning."

"Of course," she flipped the camera back onto her, her eyes full of concern, "Be careful though, yeah?"

I turned my camera and mic off, setting my phone down onto the mattress before jumping up. Pacing out into the common area with the kitchen attached to the living room, I used my hands in front of me to express my frustration as I shouted aloud to myself, "A fucking spoon! A spoon! Am I fucking dreaming or something? My god. If I knew cutlery was her love language, I would've sent over a goddamn fork instead of a shot!"

Once I collected myself enough to go back and finish this conversation with no display of a personal freak out just moments ago, I turned my camera and mic back on after covering my lower body under the covers.

"Everything okay?" Natalia asked as soon as I reappeared.

"Yeah," I lied with a smile, "It was just Nick. He wanted to see if he could borrow my toothpaste. I guess he ran out or something, and it's not like he's gonna go out and buy some at this hour. Lucky for him, I always make sure to bring an extra tube."

Surprisingly, she believed me, "Look at you always being everyone's savior, huh?"

My smile faded at the sound of being called a savior, especially coming from her. Maybe I wasn't that great at hiding my emotions like I thought. Or maybe it was just because it was Natalia.

"Hey," she cocked her head like a puppy, observing me through the screen, "Where's your next show? I'll ask Noah to drive us. I'd like to be able to give you my support for once."

"Yeah, if you drive there, you'll miss the show," my head sunk back into the pillows, "Tomorrow in Arkansas. How about this though. I fly you both out to Miami Saturday. You can enjoy the show, and I'll even pay for your hotel expenses and dinner at one of the best spots I know down there. Take the last part as my engagement gift to you."

"Really?" she perked up, "Okay, wait. I need to text Noah so he can request that time off or see if he can switch shifts with one of his coworkers. Oh, and my boss too!"

Regardless if I absolutely despised their relationship for my own selfish reasons, I loved seeing her happy way more. If that meant I had to play nice, so be it. Sooner or later, if I let my petty heartache continue on making decisions for me, our friendship would dissipate too. Communication and a will to try went both ways.