Maybe this wasn’t just a transaction orchestrated by their respective handlers. Maybe, for the first time since his career had begun to take off, Ash Murphy had found a very unlikely friend.
***
Willow blinked and then cleared her throat. “Okay…” she began, drawing out the word. “So your managers orchestrated a public swoon fest. That stilldoesn’t explain a four-year marriage that turned me into a homewrecker.” She pulled the pillow out from under her ankle and swung her feet onto the floor. “You know what?” she continued. “This is actually too much. Your lives are too much. I got into this business to make music. I don’t have any sort of cultivated persona. Hell, I don’t even have a manager. I just…” She glanced at Ash who looked at her with those sad, stormy-blue eyes and at Annabeth who—under different circumstances—Willow might have really liked. But…
She sprung up from the couch, forgetting why she’d been trapped there in the first place, and yelped as she put weight on her poor injured toe and promptly fell back onto the cushion, a prisoner of her own clumsiness once again.
Annabeth rose and clapped her hands together. “Well then,” she began. “It looks like we’ve got your attention for a bit longer, so why don’t I just grab my phone and show you what Ash cannot since he got his knickers in a bit of a twist when Freddie and I got engaged and his mobile had a proper run-in with a hotel telly, ay?”
Willow pinched the bridge of her nose.
Ash sighed. “We can get out of here for a while if you want. Me and Annabeth, I mean. I can call Colt to see if he or Jenna can come look after you for a bit.”
She rolled her eyes and threw her head backagainst the arm of the couch. “It’s fine,” she told him. “But only Annabeth gets to talk this time. Things just sound…I don’t know…better when she says them.”
She noticed him bite back a grin as Annabeth returned with her phone in hand, sat at Willow’s feet, and then carefully pulled Willow’s legs onto her lap.
“Okay,” Willow said with a nervous laugh. “I guess we’re slumber-party close now?”
Annabeth waved her off. “I dunno what that means,” the other woman admitted. “Never had a slumber party, but I don’t waste much time with the pleasantries of getting to know someone when I already know I like them.”
The corner of Willow’s mouth twitched, but she wasn’t ready to admit aloud that she already knew she liked Annabeth too. Except how was that even possible? AnnabethandAsh were the reason her career had almost ended right when she’d gotten her first break. They were the reason for Willow’s saddest and angriest songs, which—sure—were some of her best. But the humiliation doesn’t end with forgiveness.
What would happen if and when she and Ash went public not only with the song but with their reconciliation? Even if the present was good, their painful past would be dredged up and shared again with everyone who had an opinion and was happyto share it while @ing her in the comments. Was Willow really strong enough to weather that storm again?
“Here, love.” Annabeth offered Willow her phone.
Willow hesitated for a second but then took the device from the other woman, glanced at the screen, and began to scroll through what looked like a boilerplate publicity contract.
She shrugged. “I get it. Your relationship was a publicity stunt. That doesn’t change anything that happened that morning on your tour bus.” She glanced at Ash who could only respond with a slow nod.
“Here’s the part where you’re going to probably toss me out on my bum. The only parts of the contract Ash ever looked at were the signature lines because he trusted his manager and he trustedme.”
She nodded, encouraging Willow to keep scrolling. And there it was in the last few pages…a marriage license followed by an NDA, where Ash would have been sued if he mentioned Annabeth’s…
Willow gasped. “You were pregnant? Ash is a—”
“NO!” Ash finally cried, flying up from the couch and running a hand through his hair. “Jesus, A.B., just say it because you know your lawyer will still come after me ifIdo.”
Annabeth nodded and blinked back tears. “I was nineteen and still at the beginning of a very successful career. I made the decision that was best for me at the time and terminated thepregnancy. My parents and Freddie’s determined we were a detriment to both my career and his sister’s, so they cut us off from each other, and my publicity team married me off to a daft American who could spin my image in another direction.” She placed a gentle hand on Willow’s knee. “I’m sorry,” she added, her voice cracking on that second word. “I didn’t know Ash had met you or that he wasn’t made aware of the full extent of the contract until…well…that day.”
Willow let the other woman’s words sink in, trying to make sense of the fact that for all of them, doing this thing that they loved—whether it was tennis or music or simplyloving another person—was at the whim of a public who knew nothing about any one of them. How was any of it worth it?
Willow reached for the first aid kit that Annabeth had left sitting on the floor. Inside it she found the surgical tape and did as Annabeth suggested, taping her broken toe to the healthy one beside it. Then she tore open a packet of ibuprofen and popped both of the small pills in her mouth, swallowing them without any water yet wishing she hadn’t.
This time when she rose from the couch, she did so with care, making sure to focus her weight on the heel of her right foot rather than the ball.
“I’m sorry for what you lost,” she told Annabeth. “For what we all did. But I need to process this inmy own way.” She hobbled out of the room and straight toward the front door.
“Wills…where are you going?” Ash called after her.
She stepped into her square-toed riding boot, zipping the soft leather up over her left calf. Then she sucked in a breath through gritted teeth as she did the same with the right.
Wow. How did one tiny appendage cause so much pain? Stupid, stupid bathroom doorframe. But the ibuprofen would kick in soon, right?
“To the barn!” she replied, trying to keep her voice even. “I’m fine, okay? I’ll be back soon!”
And before she let anyone—least of all herself—talk her out of it, she threw open the door and limped out, letting it slam shut behind her.
