that’s okay. You just need to keep showing up for your life, even when it feels hard.” She leaned in and kissed me on the lips. “It could be a really beautiful life.”
“It’s been pretty dark for a long time. Maybe it’s hard to look into the light.”
“Yeah. But just imagine what you might find there.”
We were up in my room, getting dressed, when Taylor said, “So, the release party is in a few weeks…”
“Yeah.”
I’d wondered at what point it would come up. I hadn’t expected it to happen with my pants down.
I yanked them up and turned to face her, zipping my fly. She smiled at me as she slipped her sweater over her head. It was fuzzy and pink and hung off one shoulder, and it looked like a hug. She looked like a kiss, like love, and her eyes shone at me with so much pride. It actually made me smile.
“You finished the album,” she said dreamily, standing there in her fuzzy sweater and panties and nothing else.
I almost laughed. “Yup.”
“Are you happy with it?”
“Yes.”
“Are you excited about it?”
“It’s kinda hard to be excited about anything without you here.”
Her smile faded a little. “Cary…”
“Have you seen the cover art yet?”
“No. Do I get to see the cover art??”
“Sure.” I pulled it up on my phone and handed it to her. The cover of the album was pretty simple. A clean white background that was basically dominated by a big splotch of red paint—and a hand print that had been slapped into it, sending paint splatters flying. It didn’t exactly look like blood, but it didn’t not look like blood, either.
Taylor looked at it. “What are you calling the album?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“Is this your hand?”
“It’s Ashley’s. I think this came about one night after they’d helped themselves to some of those edibles you gave them.”
A huge grin split her face. “Really?”
“Yeah. I guess that’s your creative contribution to the album.”
“Well, I love it.” She studied the image. Her smile faded and she said softly, almost dreamily, “It’s a lovely madness, isn’t it.”
“What is?”
She stared at the image a moment longer, then met my gaze, her eyes clearing. “Nothing. Just… falling in love with a rock star.” She handed the phone back to me. “Ash and Danica, I mean. He’s pretty cool. I’m glad she found a good guy.” She looked away.
I was silent for a moment, just watching her pull on her shredded jeans. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and put on her socks.
Seriously, there was a hole in one of them.
“Are you kidding me?”
“What?” She followed my gaze to her feet.
“You’ve got a hole in your sock.”
Her eyes met mine. She grinned.
“You know, I kept looking at your Instagram while we were apart,” I told her. “Those song titles you post… I kept waiting to see what you were going to post next. Because I wanted to know how you were feeling. I guess I kept waiting for you to post a happy song.”
Her smile faded again. “I guess I didn’t.”
“The other day you posted ‘Apparitions,’ and I wondered if you posted it because you knew it had meaning to me. I mean, if that song was for me.”
“Cary,” she said softly, “they’re all for you.”
I stood there, staring at her, unable to make the few step journey it would take to have her in my arms. “That’s good, because there are three songs on the Players’ album for you.”
“What?”
“Actually, they’re not just for you. They’re about you. I wrote others, but those were the best ones.”
Taylor just stared at me, her eyes gleaming.
“You want to hear them?”
“Uh…” Her eyes widened. “Yeah, I want to hear them.”
“Great. Come down to the studio. We can have a vodka and a pickle, and I’ll play the album for you.”
She jumped to her feet. “Okay.” She followed me out of the room, practically hopping like a bunny. “This feels huge, Cary. How many people get to listen to the album early?”
“Not many,” I said, heading down the stairs.
“I feel like a VIP,” she mused.
“Because you are.”
“I mean, most people have to wait for at least the release party, right?”
“Yeah.” I realized she wasn’t following me across the foyer. When I turned around, she was standing on the bottom stair, gazing at me. “What?”
“Don’t you think… you should go to the release party?” she said.
“Not really.”
“But it’s important.”
“It’s not mandatory.”
“I know. But I really don’t think it’ll be as bad as you think.”