Then the video chats start—the neck of his acoustic while he works on a song, an argument between the band and Colton when Felix locks the door on him during a writing session. The bodyguard threatens to kick the shit out of the guy he’s guarding if they don’t take a break.

Foster even calls from center stage in the middle of their set. “Just wanted to say hey.”

But one afternoon, he goes back to sending me a pre-recorded video.

“I fucking miss you,” he says, camera on him.

He’s walking outside in a black hoodie, no sunglasses or hat. Not much more than some bare tree branches appear behind him with the gray winter sky. When he stops, he softly groans.

“I’ve spent too much time fucking missing you, Remi. I’ll warn you now, I’m going to be clingy as fuck for years.”

He said he’s going to be.

“Be ready when I come for you. But before any of that happens, there’s something I need to do.” He smirks, an eyebrow rising. “I’m going to knock on a door, and I need you to answer one.”

When he flips the camera, my breath catches. For a second, I thought it would be mine, but it’s not. Foster shows me a white front door with a winter wreath of reds and golds. Without anything more, I know it belongs to a quaint little house in the suburbs of Philly.

Then he knocks. “Open the door, Remi.”

The video cuts right as the door starts to open. I look to the one in my apartment, a smile spreading. I’m already rushing toward it when the knocking starts. I jerk it open, and my favorite smile in the world waits for me—well, one of my favorites. Roman’s shares its spot now.

“How was my timing?” Roman asks.

I laugh and throw my arms around his neck. “It was perfect.”

His hug lasts longer than usual, and then he aims a narrowed look at me while pulling back. “No warning Adams North was going to show up at my door?”

My squint meets his as I move aside for him. “Did you even know what Adams North looked like before he showed up?”

“I am not that old,” he says over his shoulder. He tosses his winter jacket and plops on the couch, and I’m right behind him.

“I can’t believe you met Foster.”

He nods. “Sure did. And I was right, I like him better than Xander.”

“Not surprising,” I deadpan. “But why was he there?”

One side of Roman’s mouth turns up. “Foster thought he needed to apologize to me for what happened when we were staying at the lake.”

My muscles stiffen as understanding dawns. “Oh.”

He watches me for a second, like he can see the internal reactions I’m trying to tamp down.