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Chapter 64

Claire was not a big fan of cooking, nor was she very good at it. But as she stood at the kitchen stove, making Nick breakfast that morning, she decided that she would gladly cook three meals a day, every day, if only her soon-to-be husband could be there to enjoy them (or at least tolerate them) every day too.

Her mother had always been an excellent cook. She hadn’t worked during Claire’s childhood and had instead become the perfect stay-at-home mom, the kind who cleaned the house till it was sparkling while her kids were at school, drove them around to all of their practices and lessons after school, and still managed to provide three full meals a day for her family. The Ryan family had always eaten dinner together during Claire’s youth; it was a nightly ritual. Dinnertime grew later and later as she and her brother grew older, when evening football practices and basketball games kept them out till after dark; yet she and Kyle were always expected to come home and sit down with the family for supper when they were done doing whatever else they had to do.

As a teenager, she’d hated it. None of her friends’ families were as old-fashioned as hers – half of them had divorced parents, and even those whose parents were together didn’t have to go home and eat dinner with them every night; no, they got to go out for burgers or pizza while she was stuck at home eating meatloaf and listening to her dad’s lame stories from work and the equally lame gossip her mom had heard at the beauty shop or the grocery store.

It was not until adulthood that she really came to appreciate the close-knit family in which she’d been raised. The rebellious teenager who had butted heads with the mother she found suffocating grew into a young woman who respected her mom and the way she had always put her family first. Claire wanted to be that kind of wife – and, God willing, mother. She didn’t strive to be exactly like her own mom – she was a modern woman; she wanted to hold down a job and help provide for her family, in addition to physically taking care of them. But her fantasy of her own perfect little family was not unlike the one she had grown up in. She pictured herself in the kitchen, making dinner after work while the kids did their homework and waited for their daddy to come home from his own job. When he did, they’d jump all over him, and he would laugh, swinging them around and letting them tell him all about their day before he came to her, sliding his arms around her waist and kissing her sweetly before asking how her day had been.

The fantasy was idealistic, but not impossible. Real families like that still existed; hers was living proof. Yet as she stood there, flipping pancakes and listening to Nick’s footsteps over her head as he puttered around upstairs, packing his bag back up, she realized it was not to be. Not for her and Nick. His schedule would keep him on the road, away from home for weeks at a time, while she’d keep coming home to an empty house and making dinner for one.

If they ever did adopt children, being unable to have their own, she would be the one at home taking care of them while he was away. She would be the one to tuck them in at night and tell them, “Daddy will be home soon,” when, to her, “soon” seemed an eternity away. She would be the one to get up in the middle of the night and care for them when they got sick or comfort them when they had bad dreams. She would be the one responsible for explaining where their daddy was and why he couldn’t come home to check for monsters under their beds before they went back to sleep. Instead of Daddy, she would be the one crawling around on her hands and knees, assuring them again and again that there really was nothing under there and listening as their stubborn voices insisted, “Daddy does it better. Only Daddy can make the monsters go away.”

The scenario was a lonely one to Claire; yet, she was not naïve enough to think it would be any different once she and Nick were married. She knew he would make a wonderful husband and father, when he was around. But his career did not allow him to be around as much as she wished he could be. At the same time, she thought she could be a good wife to him and a good mother to his children, but how could she be both at once? A good wife was always there for her husband, supporting him in everything he did, yet a good mother could not drag her children on a whirlwind tour around the world when they should be going to school and just being kids. If she and Nick married and started a family, she knew she would spend the next few years – maybe even the next decade, or longer – making these kinds of decisions. Keep her job and her own life, or follow Nick on tour? Raise her children at home, without their father, or take the kids away from home and bring the whole family on the road? She didn’t know quite how Leighanne Littrell did it – for all its perks, being a Backstreet wife was going to be tough.

She’d been thinking about her future with Nick a lot lately and realizing so many things she’d hardly considered in the giddy, carefree weeks they’d enjoyed together following their spur-of-the-moment engagement. So many issues that could come between them and interfere with their love for one another. All you need is love, love… love is all you need, the Beatles sang, and there had been a time when Claire had believed those words with all her heart. She still wanted to believe that, but the real world had stripped her of her naivety long ago. Love was certainly powerful… but it wasn’t a cure for everything.

It really was good medicine though. Perhaps that was why she’d come back last night and slid into bed beside Nick as if the argument they’d had hours earlier had never taken place. She wasn’t really mad at him, and she didn’t want him to leave the next morning angry at her either. It was their last night together for awhile, and they owed each other more than that. She’d barely mentioned the argument that morning, and though she knew they needed to talk about it, she wasn’t ready. She just wanted to enjoy her time with him while she could, and she knew that he wouldn’t push the issue. If anything, it was usually her pushing him to talk, not the other way around.

She needed more time to think and sort things out in her head before she talked to him, for despite the fact that she’d driven aimlessly for hours the night before, reflecting on the direction her life was headed in, she’d come up with no answers to the problems that had surfaced as they fought that evening.

You need to talk to him, a little voice in the back of her head told her. You need to figure this out together.

But the thought of getting into the same old argument again (“You cheated on me!” “Well, you lied to me about Jamie! How do I know you’re not cheating on me with him?” “I’m not! Maybe you should be around more so you’d know for sure!” “Oh yeah? Maybe you should quit your job and come to LA with me!”) just made her weary.

I don’t want to bring it up again this morning; there’s not enough time for us to figure anything out, she decided as she flipped off the burner on the stove. Right now, she just wanted to eat pancakes.

“Nick! Breakfast!”

***

“Your pancakes actually weren’t burnt this morning,” Nick commented as Claire zipped his Jag into a parking space at the airport.

Jerking the car into park, she shot him a nasty look that just ended up making him laugh. “Cute. I’ll have you know, I haven’t burnt them in quite a while!”

“Well, whaddya know,” replied Nick with an impish smirk. “You’re getting better, baby.”

“Ass,” she teased, playfully slugging him in the shoulder before reaching down to unfasten her seatbelt. “Just be glad I fed you.”

“I am, I am!” he insisted, holding up his hands in innocent defense. “You know I love your cooking, baby,” he added, leaning over to place a sweet kiss on her cheek.

She smiled, glad they weren’t fighting. But…

But they also hadn’t resolved anything, not even the things they’d fought about the night before. Not really. Even though she’d made the decision not to bring it up that morning, it troubled her. She didn’t like leaving things unresolved. If only he didn’t have to leave again so soon. But he had a big meeting with the record company big-wigs first thing Monday morning, so she knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“Well, come on; we should get inside,” Claire said reluctantly, her fingers brushing the door handle.

“Yeah,” Nick agreed with just about the same level of enthusiasm.

After a few seconds, they finally opened their doors and got out of the car, Nick slinging his backpack over his shoulders. Hand in hand, they made their way into the airport and checked in. Claire followed Nick until they reached the security checkpoints she could not go past. With a sigh, he turned and took her other hand, holding them both between his.

“Less than three weeks, and I’ll be back again for Thanksgiving,” he promised with a crooked smile. “And then Christmas… and then New Year’s…”

“Our one-year anniversary,” she smiled back, a lump rising in her throat.

His smile grew broader. “That’s right. And we’ll make it perfect. I won’t be recouping from surgery this year – we can go party.”

“You better not be,” she said, rising onto her tip-toes to kiss his lips. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

He dropped her hands and wrapped his arms around her instead, pulling her into a tight hug. “Back at ya,” he replied as he squeezed her. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” This was the third time in a month that she’d uttered those words as she’d hugged him goodbye in the middle of an airport, and it was no easier than the first two times. Would it ever get any easier? She didn’t see how it could, but she told herself she’d better get used to it, because from this point on, she’d be doing it often.

They were just about to say goodbye for real when they heard a timid voice ask, “Nick?”

They both turned to find a pair of teenage girls standing just a few feet away. Claire blinked in surprise; she had not even noticed them come up.

“Um, sorry for interrupting,” said the one who had spoken first, twisting her feet nervously while her companion fidgeted with the strap of her backpack, looking equally mortified. “Me and my friend Maggie are big Bsb fans though, and we were wondering if we could get a picture with you or something.” She held up a small camera and smiled hopefully.

“Sure, I got a minute,” agreed Nick, smiling back ever so patiently. “Give your camera to Claire here; she’ll snap a pic of us.” He flashed Claire the kind of grin that said please, thank you, and I’m sorry all in one. She winked and turned to the girl, offering her a smile as she handed over her camera.

“Thank you so much!” the fan gushed brightly, as she and her friend darted over to Nick, taking places on either side of him. He draped an arm around each of them and smiled good-naturedly as Claire counted off and took a picture.

“Can you get one with mine?” pleaded the other girl, speaking for the first time as she ducked out from Nick’s arm just long enough to shimmy out of her backpack and pull another camera out of it.

“Sure,” said Claire, taking the camera and snapping another photo of the two starstruck teens with Nick. Both girls were practically glowing as they hung on to him, their eyes shining above million-watt smiles. And he loves it, she thought, smiling as she watched Nick through the camera’s lens. He may have acted like fans were a hassle sometimes, but he clearly loved them and the attention he received from them.

“Thank you so much!” both girls said again, as Claire handed the second camera back.

“No problem,” she smiled. She couldn’t help but be a little surprised that they were even acknowledging her, even if it was just a “thanks” for taking their pictures.

But the real shock came when they asked, “Can we get a picture with you too?”

Blinking, Claire repeated, “With me?”

“Yeah! You’re Claire, right? Nick’s fiancée?” The two girls looked between her and Nick, grinning from ear to ear.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I am,” she answered, feeling that little rush of euphoria shoot through her. Nick’s fiancée…

“Well, will you take a picture?”

“Well, sure,” she said, still surprised that they would care about being in a picture with her. But they handed their cameras to Nick and crowded around her this time, slinging arms around her as if they were old friends. This is the weirdest thing, she thought as she smiled for the camera, wondering if Nick had felt the same way when he and the Backstreet Boys were first starting out.

“Thank you guys so much! And congratulations too – we’re really happy for you!” the first girl said as her friend nodded eagerly beside her.

“Thank you,” chirped Nick, pulling Claire back towards him and sliding his arm around her. “Listen, I gotta go in a minute so I don’t miss my flight, but do you ladies have something you want me to sign before I go?”

Both sets of eyes lit up, and the girls nodded eagerly, immediately diving for their bags to find something for him to autograph. To Claire’s shock, both emerged with Backstreet Boys CDs - different ones, at that. The first girl handed him a copy of Millennium, and her friend offered a copy of their latest release from the year before. Claire smiled; she had that one at home. She and Nick hadn’t even really been in touch when it came out – he’d been dating Leah, a relationship she’d never thought much of, and they’d had words – but she hadn’t been able to resist buying it. And although she liked to give Nick a hard time, it really wasn’t bad. Not her favorite kind of music, but the guys were definitely talented; no one could deny that.

“Wow, you guys come prepared,” Nick joked as he signed both album jackets.

“We’re flying to Denver to visit my aunt and uncle. Long flight – gotta have our Bsb music,” the first girl explained in a matter-of-fact voice, smiling broadly. Then she offered her Millennium jacket to Claire. “Claire, could you sign too?”

“Are you sure?” Claire asked, her eyes widening as she looked at the open booklet. The girl – Erinn; she’d spelled out her name for Nick – had turned it to one of Nick’s individual pictures, a photo of him sitting in water, hugging one knee while his other leg was stretched out in front him. He’d scribbled a short message to her in the top left corner and signed beneath it. It didn’t seem right for her to write her name there too – this was his album, his picture… she hadn’t even known him when he was this young and baby-faced.

But Erinn and Maggie both nodded eagerly, and so she found herself reluctantly penning her signature below Nick’s on each of the CD jackets. Claire Ryan. It looked so plain to her, the same boring name she jotted when she was signing receipts and writing checks at the grocery store. She added a few XOXOs above it to spruce it up, but she still couldn’t see why they wanted it. “Here you go,” she said, handing the last booklet back. Then she laughed and confessed, “I’ve never signed an autograph before – this is so weird!”

“Yay, we’re your first!” exclaimed Erinn, shooting Maggie a wide grin. “Thank you!”

“No problem. Thank you for your support,” Claire returned with a smile, then mentally berated herself for it. Thanks for your support? How lame is that? But she didn’t know what else to say. She was still sort of thrown off by this whole situation.

So this is being a Backstreet wife…

***

Nick was highly amused by the situation that had taken place at the airport. Claire looked so discombobulated by the requests to take pictures and sign autographs for the two fans; she’d never experienced anything like it before. He was glad she’d met up with supportive fans and not jealous, delusional ones – there were less of those now that he and the guys were older, for the fans had grown up too, but he still encountered them every once in awhile.

These two girls were nothing but sweet though, and when he finally told them that he really did have to get to his gate, they giggled and replied, “So do we!”

“My mom will kill me if we miss our flight!” added the one who had done most of the talking, her eyes flashing melodramatically.

He laughed and let them go ahead of him through the security check, giving himself an opportunity for a private goodbye to Claire. “Thanks for being cool about that,” he told her before pulling her back into his arms and planting a kiss on her forehead.

“No problem,” she smiled. “That was kind of cool… in a weird way.” She laughed. “I guess I’ll get more of that if I come on tour with you, huh?”

“Probably so,” he answered, but he couldn’t help but notice the way she’d worded it. If I come on tour with you. If… not when. Come on, Claire, he pleaded internally. How could they call themselves married when he’d be out on the road all the time and she back home, too absorbed in her own routine to come along with him? They’d be apart more than they’d be together. It would drive him crazy, not seeing her.

And wouldn’t she miss him too? Wouldn’t she wonder what he was doing, alone on the road without her, being fawned over by infatuated female fans on a nightly basis? Wouldn’t she worry, the way he couldn’t keep himself from worrying about what she was doing every time Jamie came back to town? And he’d been coming back a lot lately, Nick had noticed. Job interviews, supposedly. What if he got one of the jobs? Then what? He’d move back; he and Claire would see a lot more of each other…

And Nick would be touring.

He released her slowly, wishing he could hold onto her forever, in every sense of the phrase. Looking deeply into her eyes, he said, “I love you” and waited for her to say it back, which of course, she did. And he had no reason to doubt it, did he? She had always been there for him, which was more than he could say about himself. And she always would be, wouldn’t she? Even if she wasn’t there physically…

He picked up her hand and gave it a squeeze. It shouldn’t matter, as long as he knew she loved him, but god, he loved that physical contact. Not even sex or just making out either. It was simply her presence that put him at ease and made him happy. Her hand in his… her arms around him… He missed that when he was away from her. Even when he was in Los Angeles, a city he loved, doing what he loved, a part of him wished he could just be back at home, lying in bed beside her and laughing at one of the cheesy movies they liked to watch late at night. They laughed over the phone together nearly every night… but it wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t the same…

“You okay?” Claire’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “You’re spacin’ out on me,” she teased gently as she reached up to touch his cheek, the heat from her palm radiating through his skin.

“Just thinking about how much I’m gonna miss you,” he confessed with a sad smile.

“I know,” she sighed, her face taking on the same melancholy expression. “I’m gonna miss you too. I always do.”

Then come with me! he thought, but he didn’t say it. She’d only sigh again and tell him she couldn’t. But when will you be able to? Now it was his turn to sigh. “I really should go,” he said reluctantly. “Don’t wanna mess around with finding another flight if I miss this one, and you know how the security people like to give me hell.” He patted his fake leg beneath his jeans and shot her a grin.

She smiled back. “I know. Go on. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Absolutely.” He leaned in for one last kiss and then forced himself to walk away from her, her voice echoing in his mind. Her laughter… her I love you’s…

Her words from last night…


Oh, right, this is all just part of a huge conspiracy against you, Nick. Jamie flies down every weekend so he and I can fuck each other behind your back.

You know, I see pictures of you with other women all the time.

You’re a superstar, and I don’t want anything to do with that kind of fame.


I know you don’t, baby, he thought. But this is my life. Take it or leave it. That was certainly how he felt sometimes. But when it came down to it, he cared about her too much to give her some kind of ultimatum regarding her priorities. That was selfish and not at all fair to her. Their lives were different, but one was not more important than the other. They just had different careers, different interests, different priorities.


As people, we’re just different.


We’re not that different, he thought fiercely. We can make this work. Somehow, we’ve always made it.

By the time he boarded his flight, he was alone, but she had not left his thoughts. For better or for worse, she never would.


Say you’ll go with me forever
Though I know that you can’t
Well I ain’t much with words
There’s nothing I can say that you ain’t heard
But I promise you, each and every day

I’ll hear your voice
In every thought that flows through my mind
I’ll see your face
In every cloud that floats through my sky
And when the world is too much
And my hurt’s got me down on my knees to pray
I’ll hear your voice
And you won’t be so far away

Do you remember a moonless night
With only sound for a view
It’s funny what an ocean can do
Say you’ll go with me wherever
Even though I know it’s just a dream
Oh I know it’s unknown
But it’s something that I gotta do alone
But I swear to you, I would never do
Anything without your soul inside

I’ll hear your voice
In every thought that flows through my mind
I’ll see your face
In every cloud that floats through my sky
Someday I’ll hold you
And we will be sailing
And I will never have to say goodbye again
Till then, till that day…

I’ll hear your voice
And you won’t be so far away

- “I’ll Hear Your Voice” by Rockapella


***