“Only one way to find out.”
I grab the phone and hit speaker.
“What do you want?” I growl.
I have my gorgeous woman in my arms and I’d much rather be tending to her than dealing with whatever he has to say, and my tone shows it.
“Hello to you too, Walker,” he says. “And since we’re skipping pleasantries, are you having an affair with your nanny?”
“You're on speaker,” I tell him. “AndSadieis right here. So watch your fucking mouth.”
A pause. Then, smoothly: “Hi Sadie. Carter Caldwell. Nice to meet you. I'm Walker's friend, allegedly, and mostdefinitely the president of his record label, which you might not know given that he's been avoiding my calls like I'm the repo man and he’s sixty days past due.”
“Hi Carter.” Sadie’s eyes find mine, laughing. “I don’t think Walker’s ever dealt with a repo man in his life. But yes, I'm the nanny, and yes, Walker and I are having a torrid, scandalous affair. Just wait until people find out we're living together before marriage. Pearls will be clutched.”
Living together before marriage.
She says it lightly, offhand, just looking at the notebook. Apparently unaware of what she just let slip.
Is that something she's thinking about? The “before marriage?” The implication of what comes after?
Do I let myself start to hope?
A heavy sigh from the speaker. “I can already see exactly how you two ended up together.” Carter's voice shifts, warmer now, less president of a record label, more the man I've known for fifteen years. “Walker. I'm not calling to give you grief about your girl.”
“Then what are you calling about?”
“I'm calling because I've been trying to get you back in a studio for two years and last night you got on a stage at a dive bar in Montana and played a song that has seventeen million views this morning.”
Sadie's pen stops moving.
“Seventeen million,” I repeat.
“And climbing. My phone has been ringing since midnight. Three labels that aren't mine wanting to know if you're still under contract. Every major promoter in the country wants you. CMT. The Today Show.” A pause. “Walker. That song. Where did it come from?”
I look at Sadie. I can tell she's back in that pasture on the Fourth of July. The truck bed. The Sharpie. Thefireworks going up one after another over the valley while I wrote our song on her skin.
“Collaborative effort,” I say, still looking at her.
“I need that album,” Carter says. “Whatever you've been doing up there in Montana, I need all of it. When can you come to Nashville?”
Nashville. The label. The machine. Everything I came up here to get away from, now pulling in the other direction.
I look at Sadie.
She looks at me.
She picks up her pen and writes in the margin of the notebook before turning it to face me.
You should go
I shake my head. Pull the notebook and pen back towards me and write back.
Not without you
While Carter drones on, she takes the notebook. Doodles a little Empire State building and passes it back, shaking her head.
Still committed to New York.
