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I plaster on a smile, not wanting to let my impatience leak out.
We rented out The Mercury Lounge, a small but vibrant indie venue on the Lower East Side, to kick off Luke’s tour. The crowd is comprised mostly of our friends and family.
He has multiple shows in New York through February and then he’ll head south through Pennsylvania and Virginia, into Tennessee, and then west to Texas. We sold out shows in Dallas and Austin already, and those shows aren’t until April. I’ve been able to coordinate some of my schedule with his so we won’t have to spend more than a week or two away from each other at a time. I have interviews in D.C. and Nashville next month with potential clients and meetings set up with producers as well—some in person and some through video calls.
Finally I make it through the throng and turn by the stage, picking up the pace once I’m out of the crowd. I want to have more than a few minutes alone with Luke before the show starts.
Rounding the corner, I run into someone coming in the opposite direction. “Sorry. Oh.”
Taylor glares at me, like I collided with her on purpose. She’s dressed in a flowing long-sleeve bohemian dress with a chunky silver necklace and high, fringed boots.
Cue major awkwardness.
Before she can step around me, continuing her ongoing crusade of subjecting me to the silent treatment, I say, “Thank you for coming.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, not meeting my eyes. “I came for Luke.”
“Right. I know he appreciates it.”
Jaw tight, she turns to leave again.
“Wait, Taylor.”
She sighs before rounding the corner, her stony gaze meeting mine. “What?”
“I just wanted to thank you for everything you did with Ursula and Laila, and if you ever want to . . . I don’t know, work in the music industry in any capacity, I would be happy to introduce you to people or return the favor in any way I can.”
Her eyes darken. “If that was something I wanted to do, I wouldn’t need your help.”
I wince. I’m making things worse. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
She lets out an irritated huff. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
She flicks a hand. “Being all, nice or whatever. It’s weird.”
“Taylor, I don’t want it to be weird. I want to be nice to you.”
Not that it’s helping our relationship heal at all. Yet.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s great you’ve made your peace with all the crap you put me through, but I haven’t. Can’t we just ignore each other?”
I take a breath and release it. “I get it. I was terrible. I can respect your wishes and leave you alone if that’s what you want. I won’t talk to you unless strictly necessary.”
“Perfect.” She steps around the corner to join the crowd, but a second later, before I’ve even had a chance to move from my current position, she returns, slipping back behind the wall with a curse.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She peeks around the wall toward the crowd. “Nothing.” She pulls back again, her face tinted pink, her breath coming out faster. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“It’s obviously not nothing.” I walk past her and scan the scattered clumps of onlookers beyond the stage. “Who are you scared of?”
“I’m not scared of anyone.”
“Then go out there.” I gesture to the audience.
She sticks her head out from behind the wall, and I make an attempt to track her gaze before she ducks back again. Her eyes darted to the far left.
