Lessons Learned, Healing Hearts

Fight Against Change (Chapter 17)

"Hey, how did studying go this morning?" Gianluca asked, glancing up at Piero as he passed.

"Good," he muttered, taking a vacant chair. Slouching low, eyes fixed on a framed print behind Michele's head, he resented being here.

"How's Marlow?" Ignazio asked innocently, coming up behind him.

Piero didn't even acknowledge Ignazio's question. "Can we just get this meeting over with? I really don't want to be here."

Ignazio raised a brow and mouthed to Gianluca, "What's up with him?"

Gianluca shrugged and scooted over, leaving room for Ignazio to sit beside him on the couch.

"Alright, so, we will be flying to Florida Tuesday morning, 9a.m," Michele announced.

Piero sat upright, his tone uncharacteristically sharp. "Will we be coming back?"

"No," Michele answered flatly.

Piero swore under his breath, raking a hand through his hair and down his beard.

"What's going on, Piero?" Michele questioned, confused by such vocal opposition to leaving.

Gianluca leaned into Ignazio and said under his breath, "I bet it's Marlow."

Piero's eyes shot to his bandmate. Torn between duty and emotion, he stared at the four people looking back at him. Sitting even taller, he reluctantly replied, "It's nothing. I'll get over it."

Years of knowing relationships came second to Il Volo, Piero simply nodded for Michele to continue.

"Do you three feel you will have enough time on Monday to finish laying down your tracks?" Michele asked.

All three nodded.

"Good," he said, clasping his hands together. Before dismissing everyone, he added, "We'll finish the final mixing and production once we get back home."

Piero didn't wait. As soon as they were dismissed, he stormed out, not waiting for his friends. Phone in hand, he dialled Marlow's number. When it went straight to voicemail, he exhaled in frustration and stuffed it back in his pocket. Impatiently watching as the numbers above the elevator slowly changed, Piero's mood darkened even further. Slamming his hand against the metal stairwell bar he pushed the exit door open. Taking the steps two at a time, the climb did him good. If Marlow did not respond within half an hour, he would go to the gym and train until the tension left his chest.

Flopping himself across the bed, Piero stared at the ceiling, arms spread wide as if waiting for answers to fell from above. He loved his career. The music, the adrenaline of being on stage, the thrill of seeing new places, meeting people who knew the words to their songs even halfway across the world. Even the endless hours, the airports, late nights, lack of sleep—it was all worth it for a chance to live his dream.

But lately it had begun to feel like he was only living half the picture. Aside from his dream of being a performer, getting married and having children was also a desire for him.

Maybe, at this point in time, he was being selfish to want both? Love was soft and breakable, something that seldom survived the turbulence that came with the world of celebrity. All of his exes had understood his world. Models, influencers, women who'd grown up alongside fame, they knew what came with this lifestyle. He never questioned the need to slow down.

But then along came Marlow. Her presence had slipped into the cracks he didn't even know were there. He hadn't meant to care this much, this fast. But here he was. What if she's the other half? God, she was something else.