I headed across the narrow, wood-paneled room we’d used as a staging area for my minimal gear. I grabbed a water and downed it in a few thirsty gulps. As soon as I threw the bottle in the trash can, I strode toward the far side of the room with a door that led outside.

“Not even if I tell you more than three million people watched live? And the comments on that last song . . . my goodness, Simon. I have shivers.”

“Don’t care. I performed tonight for one . . . two people. No one else mattered.”

I reached the door. My hand gripped the cold knob. I turned it, opening it to walk out into the rest of my lonely life.

Her voice reached me, warming my insides even as the cold blast of wet English winter slapped my face.

“I bloody well hope I’m one of the two.”

I whirled back, my guitar case sliding from my fingers, my throat clogged with a thick, deep emotion. The bitter cold wafted through the door, causing me to shiver. I stepped back into the room, closer my wife.

“Ella.”

She stepped forward, too, and uncertainty boiled through the depths of her lovely eyes. “Was I? One of the people you played for tonight.”

Desperate though I was to touch her, I fisted my hand. I couldn’t help moving deeper into the room where she hovered by the door leading into the pub. As if she might need to make an escape. From me.

How could I go the rest of my life and not touch Ella? Not cradle her cheek in my palm? How would I survive without the ability to run my hand down her spine and cup her derriere, dragging her closer, then closer still?

Why had I listened to other people when I knew, always understood that Ella was my love, my rock, my greatest passion?

Pain lanced its way through my chest. No way I could ever, ever recover from this blow.

“You’re the most important person. And Jeremiah.”

Ella crossed her arms over her chest, which forced her small bump into prominence. “What about the baby? Ready to claim her yet?”

I shoved the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to force the moisture back inside me. If I started crying, the tears would wipe me out.

“I love her, too. I can’t wait to meet her and hold her and . . .” The tears streamed down my face. I didn’t bother to wipe them away. More would follow. “I don’t want to miss a moment of her life. If I could get out of my contract, I would.”

Ella cocked her head to the side. Her hair slid across her shoulder, and I wanted to run my hand over its silky weight. My fists tightened.

“The last time you cried was at your brother’s funeral.”

I grumbled a little. “I’m not much for this kind of emotion.”