61. Chapter 61

Chapter 61

Willow

It's been two weeks–fourteen days–and not a word from Tripp. He hasn't addressed the retirement rumor but has decided against having surgery this season. He's doing rehab for his shoulder in the hope he'll still be able to play this season (or at least that's what the article said).

I'm torturing myself by keeping up on his progress. It hurts. I could stop but I won't.

Tabloids are starting to speculate we've broken up. This is the longest we've gone without being seen in public. To be fair, I've not been anywhere besides my home, with Emilie.

We hashed out the Tripp fight the best I could without telling her his secret. Even now, I want to keep it. It may have been out of spite, but it was important to me. Emilie knew I wasn't giving her everything, but she didn't press me.

Since I technically wrapped the album already, I didn't have a creative project to throw myself into. This led me to write an obscene number of songs during the last week.

I've been known to pour myself into writing when things are bad. I have no idea if they're any good, or if they're just cathartic for the time being. The only way to know is to keep going.

I'm in my home studio, getting ready to record some piano, while I figure out the bones of these new songs. Before I start a new project, I always clean up any rogue files so things don't get lost. Sometimes I have to go back and find something so minuscule and the least I can do is keep them in the right place.

There are only a few files, and they're short, so I play them back. A few verse melodies I didn't end up using, a half-written song I scrapped. The last one is the most interesting. It's Tripp and me, talking; I must've accidentally recorded when we were hanging out in here.

The night comes back to me. It was the first cold night in October before we went to Golden Cove. With a cloudless sky, we'd be able to see the stars, which meant a perfect hot tub night. I remember it because I almost told him I loved him twice. Had to catch myself before the words spilled out before I was ready to hear them.

The file is almost done playing and there's only a few seconds left. At this point, I've gone back upstairs to grab brownies out of the oven. Tripp talked about how he hadn't had one in forever, so I pulled out one of my favorite recipes and made them from scratch.

On the recording, Tripp takes a deep breath and sighs. And then, when it's just him in the studio, he says, "Willow, the only girl I've thought about marrying." He laughs and then I hear his footsteps scurry up the stairs.

I cover my hand with my mouth. This is the sweetest, most tender thing I've ever heard someone say about me. Not only the words he said, but how he said them. How I almost spilled my guts to him after this, because of the way he was looking at me. Now, I know what he was thinking.

The way this hurts. I want to call him and tell him I found it. I heard it. And that if he can go back to how we were, I'd do it. I have the phone in my hand, but I can't bring myself to call him. I know this isn't about me. Part of it, maybe, but Tripp has things to figure out.

I'm feeling everything and now's a perfect time to put a voice to the words I've written. I pull out my journal, sit at the piano, and start putting riffs together. A few tears fall and hit the keys, and I know my voice sounds horrific, but it's the only thing I can do to make myself feel better.

A meeting with Erik and the label is what pulls me out of my music cave. Apparently, there's something we need to discuss.

"An opportunity has come up, one that has your name all over it. There's a unique type of tour about to be announced and they're looking for someone big. The main artist wants two headliners. Each artist plays a short set of their own discography but then the main event is a collaboration set. Doing duets of each other's music."

Wow. That sounds different.

"She doesn't hate it. Keep going." Claire looks from me to Erik.

"Claire. Chill out." She makes me laugh. I know she did it because I need a laugh. "She's right. I'm intrigued. Who is the artist?"

Erik puts his hands on the table, starting a fake drumroll. He looks around the table for everyone to join in. Everyone plays along, except Claire. Not surprising.

"Asher Wilde."

"You're lying." It's the no-filtered reaction. Asher Wilde is one of the biggest musicians of my time. He's older than me and hasn't had new music or a tour in at least five years. He's been off the grid.

"I am not lying."

"What's the catch, Ricky?" Claire asks.

"The catch is that they want music from the most recent toured album of Willow's. She'll be able to play new stuff. Really, creative control would be with Asher and Willow. The other is the timing. We'd have to cut the current tour we're planning short to prepare."

"How big are they thinking?" I ask.

"Massive. Stadium tours. All over the world. Spanning almost two years. We think it has the chance to be the most memorable tour, ever. They want the whole thing: full-stage design, high-dollar tickets and experiences, and the ridiculous costume budget. It would mean a much smaller rendition of the tour we're currently planning."

I can't have both. I can have part of what I was hoping for with the new album, but not both.

"How did this come up?" Claire asks.

"Asher had someone slated and they backed out."

"Why and who was it?"

"Don't know but their loss is our gain."

"When do you need an answer?" I ask the room.

"I can get you three days. They want to move fast and get things rolling. I have all the proposed dates and locations here." He holds up a folder. "And, if you agree to it, we're going to need a contract extension. You'll sign for both on the same day."

Three days. That's barely any time. Doesn't surprise me they'd put the contract on top of it. They don't want to get screwed out of the revenue. This thing, whoever does it, will be legendary.

"Okay." I reach for the folder. "I can give you an answer in three days. Now, the new album, how is it coming?"

As expected, everything is going smoothly. The songs are all being mastered and getting to their final version. I'm still playing around with album titles which is something that drives the label mad. I love to keep it secret, if I know it, up until the last minute. Or I want to give myself the time and freedom to find something that fits perfectly. The perfect title hasn't hit me yet, but I know it will. It always does .

"Asher Wilde. Didn't see that coming," Claire says when we're buckled into our car, Seth driving.

"He's like, one of your idols, right?" Emilie asks.

"To be fair, he's almost everyone's idol. He's an icon," I reply.

I've waited to open the folder until it is only my team. I look at the dates and locations. They weren't joking. This is three US legs, plus substantial international dates. There are chunks of tour where I wouldn't see my house for weeks. Claire peers over my shoulder.

"This is bruuuuutal. But probably an opportunity of a lifetime," Claire says, scanning the list of dates.

"Can I see?" Emilie asks. I pass her the folder. Her eyes go wide when she sees what we're talking about.

"Thoughts?" I ask her.

"Really? You want to know what I think?"

"Of course."

"Well, on one hand it sounded like the exact opposite of what you were trying to do, but on the other, it sounds like a once in a lifetime opportunity." She flips through the rest of the pages. "Honestly, it might be a nice Tripp distraction."

Both of those things have crossed my mind.

"There's no way you're dating someone with this schedule." I appreciate her honest reaction. She's right. There's no way I'd be able to see Tripp but that doesn't even need to be a consideration.

"Tripp wants nothing to do with me so that shouldn't be a problem," I say, feeling sorry for myself a little bit.

"He hasn't called?" Claire asks. She rarely wants to get into the details of my personal life.

"No. He hasn't. I haven't. It feels over." I reach for the folder, mostly so I have something to do with my hands.

No one else says anything the whole way home.