He turns sharply. “You. Are. My. Wife.” “I know that, but—” “No, you don’t. Nothing comes before you now, not even my career. All I have to do is make music. I lived as a rock star’s son. I don’t have to live that lifestyle to fulfill my dreams. I just have to make music. In fact, I would prefer the opposite. I don’t want to be homesick on the road. I don’t want to spend endless months apart from you. Not even weeks. Not even a fucking week. That’s what I don’t want.”
