Chapter 25
Taylor has spent her first week in New York feeling like she hasn't had a second to breathe.
The second doesn't look like it'll be any different; the days have turned into a routine where Adam picks her up at eight so she can start vocal training at nine in a studio in the heart of Manhattan.
After that, a session with the producer and meetings Abigail schedules almost daily with all kinds of people linked to the music scene, people who speak a language Taylor doesn't quite master yet, though that's what Abigail is for, always at her side, cutting off whoever she has to if she doesn't like what she's hearing.
Abigail is always present in Taylor's every move, but Taylor feels she's not the same woman she met in Smithville.
She's not the Abigail who melted under her hands, beneath her kisses and nips; this is another Abigail entirely: a ruthless businesswoman, as cold as the marble on her kitchen island.
She always gets to every meeting before Taylor does, with her inseparable planner in hand and her phone on silent so the constant calls don't interrupt the conversation.
During studio sessions, Abigail usually sits in a corner with her laptop, working while keeping an ear on every note that leaves the mouth of her new signee.
She's efficient and brilliant at everything she does, exactly what Taylor needs to launch her career, but she feels more out of reach every day.
Taylor tries to adapt to the new work rhythm, to arriving in a city she doesn't know, to noises she's not used to, and to the loneliness.
She believes she can handle it, but what she doesn't think she'll ever get used to is the corporate version of this woman who, barely two weeks ago, was devouring her on the table in a trailer.
"Where are we going now?" Taylor asks when Loretta drops them off in front of a huge building she has never been to.
"You're going to meet Liam," Abigail replies without breaking her stride.
"Is your agency here?" Taylor asks, holding the door so Abigail can go in, a gallant gesture that makes her agent nervous.
"Yes."
Robert, the building's security guard, watches Mrs. Stone's young companion with an amused expression.
"Can I see your office? I'm sure it's as cold as you are," Taylor remarks without waiting for an answer.
Abigail hesitates between taking the elevator or the stairs. No one is waiting, and she doesn't want to be shut in that small space alone with Taylor. Every time they are, her neck muscles tense, and since the singer arrived in the city, she feels rigid practically all day long.
When they step out of the elevator, Abigail strides along the carpeted hallway without stopping, and Taylor barely has time to take in the offices if she doesn't want to lose sight of her.
"Why are you walking so fast?" she asks, falling into step beside her.
"Sorry, you want me to give you a tour?" The sarcasm in her tone is so obvious that Taylor huffs.
Abigail turns right and they find the small anteroom where her office door is, as well as Patricia, whom Taylor greets before following Abigail into the space from which she runs her empire.
"Wow, so much light," Taylor murmurs, impressed by how bright it is.
Abigail is tempted to ask her to come around to her side of the desk and take in the view.
From there, she has another perspective of Central Park, different from the one from her apartment, but she reins herself in because the next thought that flashes through her mind is Taylor standing in front of her looking the other way, Abigail pressing up behind her, burying her nose in her dark hair, then moving it aside and kissing that line of her neck she misses so much—like she misses everything about Taylor.
"Sit down," Abigail orders, but Taylor hasn't moved yet when the door opens and Liam comes in.
"Damn, it's about time," he says with his usual radiant smile, approaching Taylor with that warmth that pours off him like an inexhaustible heat source. "I'm Liam, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Taylor shakes his hand and he covers it with both of his in an affectionate greeting before taking a seat beside her, facing Abigail.
"Sorry I didn't introduce myself sooner; I was traveling in Boston," Liam apologizes.
"You do the cities and I do the small towns," Abigail spits, opening her laptop.
"Ignore her; I do," Liam says, making Taylor let out a little laugh. "How's it going? Are you settling into the city? Must have been a bit of a shock, huh?"
Taylor sighs before answering, glancing sideways at Abigail, who seems to be paying them no attention at all. It bothers her that a stranger shows more interest in her than the woman with whom she spent the three most intense weeks of her life.
"I'm fine. I do so much in a day I hardly have time to think. And I like New York, although I haven't had a chance to see anything yet," Taylor answers.
"You'll settle in bit by bit, you'll see. Do you like the apartment? Patricia has great taste for this stuff," Liam says.
"I love it, though it might be too big. The bedroom is like the living room of my house in Smithville."
Abigail lifts her gaze slightly. She didn't see Taylor's house, didn't see her room, her safe space, and she detected a note of melancholy in her voice as she said it.
If things were different, she'd pay more attention to her, make sure she didn't feel alone, take her out to dinner, even show her this city she adores despite being a terrible guide, but she can't be that for Taylor.
Abigail has to focus on making her a star, which means she can't afford distractions.
"Why don't you two continue this chat in your office?" she snaps at Liam.
He narrows his eyes, crosses one leg over the other, and settles more comfortably in the chair.
"We're fine here. Why don't you put that down for a minute and fill me in?"
Abigail picks up a pen and starts twirling it while Taylor watches them both. She's not surprised by Liam's boldness with Abigail, but by the fact that she lets him get away with it without barking the way she would at anyone else.
"I have things to do. We'll talk later," Abigail says just as the office door opens and Patricia peeks in.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Stone, but your sister is here and refuses to wait outside," she explains, visibly uncomfortable.
Abigail goes so rigid it looks like someone slid a steel rod down her spine. Liam, however, jumps up from his chair, thrilled, the moment a woman with chestnut hair cut to her jawline, as tall as Abigail but with blue eyes and an almost permanently friendly expression, appears in the office.
"Damn, Erin, what a surprise," Liam says, moving toward her under Taylor's amused gaze.
"I'm so glad you're here," Erin says, hugging Liam warmly. "At least someone is happy to see me," she mutters with sarcasm.
Taylor, who feels like she's at a tennis match, shifts her gaze to Abigail, who is still seated with her eyes fixed on her stepsister.
"Hi," Erin says to Taylor as she passes by, using a warm tone that has nothing to do with the woman cold as steel on the other side of the desk.
"Hi," Taylor replies with a smile.
"What are you doing here, Erin?" Abigail murmurs when Erin plants herself beside her and stares her down.
Taylor is fascinated; the difference between the two women is so stark it's almost comical.
"Hello, sister," Erin says, adopting a more serious expression.
Abigail holds her breath.
"I'm in the middle of a meeting, Erin," she murmurs, growing more tense by the second.
Taylor is stunned, feeling a stab of something like tenderness when she realizes Abigail doesn't seem to know how she's supposed to act.
"If you had returned my calls, I wouldn't have had to do this, Abby," Erin reproaches.
"I haven't had time," Abigail defends herself, more and more uncomfortable.
"Right, you never do," Erin says. "Get over here and hug me, dammit," her sister demands.
Abigail looks up at her from her chair, feeling like the muscles in her neck are going to decapitate her at any moment, but she gets up and moves toward Erin.
The hug is the strangest thing Taylor has ever witnessed.
While Erin immediately squeezes Abigail, making it very clear how much she'd wanted to see her sister, Abigail does everything in slow motion.
First she stays still, as if getting used to the heat of that body, recognizing it.
Erin seems to know that's how it will be and gives her time.
Then Abigail's arms move slowly, closing behind Erin's back, at first without strength, as if she were afraid of hurting her or felt she had no right, but then she tightens and sighs, because, even if she's not aware of it in that moment, she's glad to see her sister.
Taylor holds her breath as if she were the one being hugged, moved, and glances at Liam out of the corner of her eye. His lips are pressed together and he's nodding without realizing it, like he's approving of Abigail's action.
"Are they really sisters?" Taylor whispers.
Liam smiles and leans a little closer to her.
"They are, though it's like when the personality genes were handed out, each of them ended up with opposite ends of the spectrum," Liam replies. "Abigail is an icy wind and Erin a warm breeze; the good thing is Erin knows how to soften her."
Taylor sighs. She wishes she knew how, too.
"We can't talk now," Abigail murmurs, grabbing her bag when she and Erin break the hug.
She takes the keys to her apartment out and hands them to her sister.
"Wait for me at home; I'll be there early."
At home. Taylor is surprised by that familiarity, considering how cold Abigail was with Erin when she spoke to her on the phone back at the Smithville apartment.
"Does 'early' mean for dinner or that I'll already be in bed by the time you get there?" Erin asks.
Abigail huffs.
"I'll come for dinner."
"Good. Great to see you, Liam, and you, good luck with my sister," she says to Taylor with a wide smile. "Sorry for the interruption," she adds before leaving.
"I'd ask why you hadn't told me Erin was coming to visit," Liam says, standing, "but it's obvious you didn't know. Anyway, I have a meeting. It was a pleasure to meet you, Taylor. We'll be seeing each other," he says, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
The office door closes so quickly that Taylor doesn't know what she should do next. She came here to meet Liam, and Liam has just left, so she should probably do the same, but she's so intrigued by what she just saw with Erin that she can't, because she doesn't understand Abigail's behavior.
"You didn't call her back."
"Excuse me?" Abigail asks, spearing her with gray-green eyes fixed on her.
"In Smithville you told her you'd call when you got back here, but it's obvious you didn't. She's your sister, and she seems lovely..."
"Stay out of my life, Taylor," Abigail cuts her off before she can go on. "What happens between my sister and me is none of your business. That, or anything else," she says with a coldness that takes Taylor's breath away.
"I thought we could at least be civil," Taylor says, trying to hold back the rage running through her veins. "We didn't just fuck..."
"For fuck's sake, Taylor," Abigail roars. "I'm not your friend. I'm your agent." Abigail pauses, feeling her own cruelty punch a hole through her chest, but she doesn't stop. "The sooner you understand that, the better it'll be for both of us."
People have said many things to Taylor that have hurt, but this is like a punch to the gut that makes your insides twist. It shouldn't bother her this much; she hasn't spent that much time with Abigail for it to, and she doesn't want Abigail as a friend—she's known that since Abigail got on the flight to New York and she stayed behind in Smithville missing her.
The emptiness in her chest was so big that Taylor didn't understand what was happening to her until she admitted that Abigail ran through her veins with the same fury as her lyrics when she sings.
That's why it hurts so much that Abigail treats her like she meant nothing, that she's able to cut her out of her life so easily and talk to her like she doesn't have feelings.
In fact, she has the feeling Abigail chose her words to cause maximum damage, which is why she won't give her the satisfaction of making it that easy.
If she wants to push her away, she'll have to keep roaring at her every time.
"Fine. Got it," she says, arching a brow as she rises unhurriedly, as if she didn't care at all about what Abigail just said, even though her chest burns on the inside.
"Tell Loretta to take you. I don't need her until later," Abigail says when Taylor is reaching the door.
The singer stops in front of the wood, thrown. Loretta is Abigail's driver—only hers. Why the hell is she handing her over if Taylor matters so little to her?
"I don't need her either. I can take care of myself," Taylor replies, leaving without saying goodbye.
Abigail closes the laptop and turns toward the window as she massages the muscles in her neck and tries to breathe more slowly, only it gets harder and harder.
Taylor gets to her apartment intending to call her sister so she can stop feeling that emptiness and the loneliness that consumes her in this city where people she barely knows, like Liam, Loretta, or Adam, treat her with more warmth than the woman she thought would be her anchor while she adjusted to everything.
She decides not to call Tiffany. Her sister knows her so well she'll pick up on her distress in her tone.
So she stays there, sprawled on the sofa staring at the ceiling while she wonders if she can survive this.
She wants to be a singer, but she hadn't planned on falling in love with her agent and having to battle her hostile behavior.
She closes her eyes and sighs. She's already dealt with her brother; if she could handle him, she can handle her.
After all, she's privileged. Abigail has put her where she wants to be.
Now she has an apartment in New York, she's working with the best producers in the industry, and her voice will soon be heard by millions of people.
That's what she has to focus on, not the pain under her ribs when she thinks of her.
If she can't have Abigail, she'll have her music, her voice, and that fire that runs through her veins, and it'll have to be enough.