She shook her head. “Don’t.” She glanced behind her and saw him put his hands in his pockets.
The world saw that stance of his as mesmerizing and gorgeous and they were right. He said, “Look, I’m in Denver for another day. And then I’m heading to Dallas.”
Inside her body she was now hollow--but she nodded to show that she'd heard him.
Hopefully she’d find peace. “The stadium is nice there… I’m sorry I hurt you, Eddie.”
Before he could say anything else, she ran down the steps to get away fast.
Maybe she could run from her pain.
This was the right thing to do, but that didn’t matter. She was two steps from falling entirely apart as she rushed out and called herself an Uber with her phone.
16
Eddie's coffee tasted too American. Earning the penthouse suite in every hotel they stayed in now, including this one, didn’t mean he had amazing food.
It was the same they served to the smallest rooms.
It was earthy and yet… the wrong aroma.
It made him think about Taylor and how she added all that caramel to disguise the actual flavor of coffee.
Her beautiful blonde hair, her pointing-like-a-cheerleader dance moves, and her infectious smile.
Without thinking, he opened his tablet and found her performance at the CMAs. Forty-one million hits in three days. Wow.
Taylor was about to get all of her dreams.
And she deserved every penny.
She had talent in every finger stroke on the ivory keys.
He craved warm black tea and ordered room service.
Most American hotels only served some horrible bag and never brewed it properly in a pot. But it was the closest thing to home he had.
Not that he ever really had a home. His shoulders slumped and he kept every curtain drawn.
Darkness suited him today.
He would never have another one of Taylor’s encouraging hugs or sweet kisses that lingered on his lips.
Maybe he never should have known what she was like in his arms.
Maybe then this heartache would be bearable.
He might be able to breathe like he had before he'd decided to chase her to Memphis.
And then agreed to be her date in Denver.
Someone knocked at the door and he hoped it was room service, with the tea.
He went to open the door, but the brown-eyed no-nonsense gaze of his handler stared at him, holding her checklist she always seemed to carry in her hand. “Tam?”
Her lips were pressed together like she was a disappointed school marm. “It’s late. You missed practice.”
He quickly turned and stared at the clock. Right. He was never, ever late.
Eddie Williams was boringly punctual and scheduled but he grabbed his shirt as she stepped in and said, “I… I had a hard time sleeping.”
She opened the curtain and let sunlight in.
The brightness was blinding, especially without tea.
Tam said, “It’s okay. It’s the second night so you know the stage.”
He walked with her toward the couch. “Right. Great. I won’t miss another practice though.”
“You’ve never missed before.” She nodded and took out her phone to take notes as she said, “So I wanted to run past you the Oceania portion of the tour.”
She handed him a list with stadium names and hotels. He nodded. “I need to wake up.”
Tam handed him a pen for him to initial the bottom. “Are you okay?”
He signed off as someone knocked.
His tea would be here. Tam jumped up to get his door as he said, “Taylor… I won’t see her again.”
She tipped the waiter and brought him hot water in a mug and a tea bag.
His stomach knotted as he’d wished it was piping hot, but he dunked the bag. Tam said, “But you married her.”
She went to his coffee maker and made herself a cup as he said, “I did.”
The room had that distinctive water going through plastic sound then it splashed into the cup. She walked over to the couch to join him again. “Are you filing for divorce? Should I call your lawyer?”
Taylor’s success had to be split. She deserved to be well cared for. He sat back and said over his cup of tea, “I… I want you to ensure that she has one million pounds.”
Tam didn’t blink. At all. Eddie’s shoulders were tense, but he held his head high. She didn't judge, just asked, “Pounds or dollars?”
His heart was working overtime right now, and he sipped his tepid tea. He had to calm down. “Pounds. My bank is in London.”
Tam typed on her phone. “So that’s about one hundred twenty-five million.”
Which she might get from sales, but it would be divided with her label and band members.
At least this way he could take care of her, alone.
Leaving him was probably inevitable and he couldn’t make her wait for him. He nodded despite how his stomach churned. “Yes. Just get it into her bank account as part of any settlement.”
Tam leaned closer and folded her hands in front of her. “You don’t have to give her a dime. Your lawyers protected you.”
So? He paid them to do that, but Taylor’s sweet kiss would be with him, forever. He finally managed to school his emotions as he'd been taught. “I… I want her to be happy and secure, no matter what.”
Tam sat back, let out a sigh and said, “Okay. I’ll let the lawyers know.”
He could sleep better at night knowing she had the funds to pursue her career no matter what else happened in her future. He scooted forward and dunked the bland tea bag. “Thanks.”
Tam opened her phone again. “Any word on when you want to schedule studio time?”
Work. This was who he was. And yes, he was open to signing on for another album.
If they paid enough.
And maybe it would be good to let the cool weather of a proper London winter soothe his broken heart. He’d have a properly boiled tea which would taste much better than what was before him. “I’ll need to go home… to my estate near Bakewell in Derbyshire, and the studio there.”
Tam stood up as she said with a nod, “I’ll tell the label.”
“Excellent.” He rose to join her.
His temples pounded and he kept trying to figure out how he’d fix what had happened with Taylor, but nothing worked in his mind.
She’d been clear there wasn’t much he could do. He opened the door for his assistant. “Anything else?”
She held up one finger and her clipboard. “Oceania?”
Fine. Yes. He quickly scanned the sheet and honestly didn’t care what hotel was booked for him as he put his initials at the bottom. “I’m sure whatever you book for me is good.”
“I’ll let you finish your tea and escort you to the stadium later.” Tam stepped into the hall but then asked, “If Taylor calls or comes to see you?”
His heart thumped at the idea, but he tensed his shoulders to stop it from taking shape. “Yes?”
“What do you want me to do?”
Nothing. Taylor returning would allow him to breathe again, but he couldn’t expect that. He held the door handle. “She won’t but if she calls… patch her through.”
Tam shook her head and patted his cheek. “Man, she hurt you.”
“No one hurts me.” He edged away from her empathy. The last thing he needed was… anyone to feel sorry for him.
She shrugged. “If you say so.”
But as the door closed, he glanced at his plain white porcelain mug with the tea bag in it.
Growing up the only time he ever saw his parents together, really, for any extended time, usually involved a cup of tea.
He wished, for the moment, that he worked with people who never noticed his feelings, like his parents. Tam cared.
He picked up his phone and dialed the one person in the world that always set him on course. No room for emotions. On the third ring, she answered, and he didn’t wait for hello as he sai
d, “Mother.”
Her tone was clipped, like she was directing the staff on something, but she said, “Edward. Where are you? Your agent said you had the American tour add Memphis to your list.”
Every so often Abigail Williams surprised him. Today was one for her. She was keeping tabs on his tour stops?
He slumped in his seat and wasn’t quite sure how he’d tell her about how he’d made a mess of his life.
But he needed to hear common sense, so he closed his eyes, imagined Taylor’s sweet smile, and said, “I’m having a few smaller theaters added to my tour from now on. Stadiums don’t have the right sounds.”
His mother's tone relaxed as she said, “It’s your art, so your call my dear. That's something your father understands. He sometimes enjoys smaller venues for his shows too.”
His father's visual arts were absolutely eye-catching in smaller spaces.
Eddie wished his lighting team had half his father’s vision, not that he’d ever complain. He rested his head on the headrest of the chair, striving for Zen, but he’d just had his heart shaken and served in a martini glass. “But you only like big.”
“We all have our preferences," she said, "and you can afford to make a few exceptions to indulge in sensory pleasures.”
Happy wasn’t a word his mother ever said--it was too simple. He opened his eyes and wished he didn’t see Taylor’s reflection in his mind’s eye still.
Tension rose in his spine as asked, “Do you remember Taylor?”
His mother let out small intake of breath that signaled she had an opinion. “The pretty young blonde who used to hover around you at my New York showings?”
He gazed at the black wall across from him above the TV and swore he saw Taylor in the corner of his eye.
Clearly, he was going crazy as he held the phone in his hand to talk on speakerphone. He gripped the armrest. “So, you do remember her?”
His mother’s small hmmph meant she wanted to change the subject of conversation. “Why are you bringing her name up now?”
Soon what had happened wouldn’t be a secret, at least to his family and close friends. He could bring marriage with Taylor up, and his family would mention some distant relation to some old king, and their titled relatives, and how an American singer would never fit.
But if Taylor was with him… no, it was better not to think about that. “Well, I don’t want you to read about my… life in some tabloid. I married Taylor in Las Vegas.”
“You did not, son,” his mother said like she'd just heard someone died.
Without Taylor his life was back under the rainclouds and never to know sunshine again. But this was his lot as he paced and said, “I did. And it’s over now. She doesn’t want to hurt my career.”
His mother scoffed. “She wanted your money. I hope your lawyers took care of you.”
Yet today she’d made decent money. Views like she'd had meant serious advertising cash. Soon she’d get an endorsement deal, at the least. “No. Her own career is taking off.”
“That doesn’t stop a girl from wanting more--right now, you have everything you've ever wanted.” His mother’s tone left no room for argument.
Everything he wanted? If that was true, he’d have Taylor. He’d be actually… happy. Life would be amazing then. He stopped pacing. “No. No, I don’t. I don’t have Taylor.”
"There will be someone better." His mother sounded just as she had when he’d scraped his knee the first time riding a bicycle--no hugs, but a stern admonishment to be strong. “Hopefully British, who can make a proper cup of tea for you when you retire, son.”
Not likely anyone he’d desire. He’d never met anyone in England that held his attention like Taylor always had.
But that wasn’t the point of today’s call--she'd set him straight in her cool maternal way. “Right. Well, I wanted to let you know.”
“Very well then,” his mother intoned like she was a duchess.
Neither of them said "goodbye." It just wasn't a Williams’ family thing.
It was a Taylor thing to hug and say "see you soon."
If he didn’t have a show, he’d consider getting himself a pint and forgetting the day existed. Instead, he found his sweats and hit the gym.
Exercise usually cleared his mind, but the emptiness of the hotel halls and the gym where he'd poured his energy hadn’t helped.
He took longer in the shower before his concert, but his head remained foggy. He was lost.
A knock sounded at his dressing room door and for one second he imagined Taylor standing there, saying she was mistaken.
Eddie opened the door to Tam, his efficient, short-haired assistant. “Eddie, are you ready?”
Of course. Tam had no idea how much of an idiot he was, wallowing in dashed hope. He grabbed his socks and slipped one on. “Did… my mother call you?”
He tugged up the second one as Tam said, “She confirmed the dates for your European portion of the tour. I think she wants to see you.”
He'd heard that before, but something always came up. He walked with her into the hall. “Anything is possible I suppose.”
Tam didn’t move from the door. He tilted his head to ask what she was waiting for, when her brow lifted. “Eddie?”
“Yeah?” He tucked his hands into his pockets.
She pointed to his feet. “You forgot your shoes.”
He wiggled his toes. “Right. Yes. Of course.”
So, she knew he was a blundering fool. He went back inside and slipped into his oxfords near the door.
At the stadium they’d have his sneaker endorsement.
This time when they left, Tam was in step with him, though as they reached the elevators she said, “It’s okay to be sad. It just makes you human.”
She pressed the button for them, and he stared at her. Efficient and thoughtful were both excellent qualities in an assistant on tour with him. As the doors opened, he asked, “Tam, when’s the last time I gave you a raise?”
Hitting the L for lobby, Tam then texted his security team that they were on their way. “My quarterly review isn’t for another six weeks.”
Alone in the elevator, surrounded by jazz music, he said, “Well, when you have the lawyers prepare everything about Taylor, ensure you get a three percent increase in your own salary.”
Her face went white, but she typed herself the note. “You… thank you.”
Good. Speechless meant no more expressing feelings. The only time he’d do that now is through song.
It hurt too much to be open to this horrible pain of loving someone who didn’t want to love him back. And talking about that would only amplify the heartache. So, it was better to never, ever, ever be open again.
17
Taylor had her headset on and listened to her digital recording as the road to Kansas City was long and straight. But at least the bus was steady and allowed her to work in her seat near the front.
Eddie’s sweet kisses and shy smiles replayed in her head as the melody unfolded.
Hours of work later, she, at least, had a demo ready to share with her bandmates.
For the rest of her life, Eddie Williams would be her inspiration.
If she hadn’t known what his kiss was like, she could never have written this melody.
Someone hovered near Taylor on her two-seater bench seat so she put her legs down and glanced up. C.C. motioned like she asked if she could sit and Taylor straightened and removed her headset as C.C. took off her sunglasses and joined her. “Taylor, are you ready?”
She glanced out the window. They were stopped at the stadium already? Wow. And the bus was quiet.
No wonder she’d finished working.
Time to go be a Lipstick Outlaw. She ignored the wince in her heart that missed Eddie and her chance with him, while she prayed her reaction wasn’t obvious. “Yeah. I was just finishing my new song.”
C.C. pointed toward the headset to listen. Taylor handed it over and hit play to the demo. Taylor reread the words ca
refully for her second verse as they rolled across the screen, You have looked through my shy eyes…You could tell we are so different…We’ve been breathing the same air…It seems there’s nothing more we could share… But you could tell that I have more… So many things that I have to show… You saw in me a new window to the world
Every word, every syllable all circled back to Eddie.
She couldn’t tell a soul how she cared about him, or that they were married—she had to make sure their marriage did not become public knowledge.
If the online strangers, who were clearly Eddie fans, knew they’d trash her even more than those online comments, that grew daily, along with the view count.
She worried that Val might kick her off the tour from all the notoriety, except that the flip-side to being hated was that they were getting a lot of media attention, which meant that the rest of the band was super happy and thrilled to have growing bank accounts.
Everyone except her.
She didn’t have Eddie anymore.
Her life sucked.
C.C. took off the headset and said, “This is good.”
Taylor saw the time displayed on her tablet and packed up her stuff. “Yeah?”
They headed off the bus together and through the country music festival crowd where people were holding up signs for the Lipstick Outlaws.
Katie Lyn’s pretty face as the dyed blonde girl-next-door type was plastered everywhere.
C.C. and Taylor headed toward the performer's entrance as C.C. asked, “Eddie made you sappy when you fell in love?”
C.C.’s soulful brown eyes and calm demeanor was the opposite of Taylor, who's heart, mind, and body were on fire.
Calm would be nice. Love? Sappy? “No…”
Other performers headed toward the door they'd walked in and C.C. put her sunglasses on when they went inside as she glanced around at all the men. “How come he’s not here for the festival?”
Eddie Williams was not the kind to play country beer festivals.
The Red Rocks Amphitheatre was majestic and had a natural acoustic sound that made performers love the arena.
But Eddie would be the main star of a weekend, not just one of many.
Taylor’s Legendary Heart: Sweethearts of Country Music, Book 2 Page 13
