Chapter 30
The days after that disastrous meeting at the label are a haze for Taylor and an open wound for them both that won’t stop bleeding. It’s been six days since then, and the distance between them is a chasm that’s suffocating the singer.
Abigail is there, accompanying her to studio sessions, where she plants herself in her corner with her laptop, not looking at her unless it’s strictly necessary.
If they have a meeting with Liam to talk about Taylor’s next steps, Abigail only opens her mouth when she disagrees, and any extra meeting or training session she schedules for Taylor, she lets her know through Patricia or by email.
She’s like a shadow at her side that blurs if the singer tries to touch her.
Taylor has tried to approach her several times these days.
She knows it isn’t about the meeting—Abigail made it clear she could fix that later.
It’s about her; it’s because she didn’t keep her promise and kissed her, because she can’t keep her mouth shut and asks questions she shouldn’t.
That’s why Abigail wants to keep her at arm’s length, to raise a definitive barrier that pushes her away forever, and Taylor feels like she’s dying slowly.
She isn’t ready for this; she can’t stand Abigail ignoring her like this, so she keeps trying to talk to her, to assure her, this time for real, that she won’t try anything again—but she needs those gray-green eyes to keep seeing her.
Every time she tries to talk to her, though, Abigail cuts her off with some excuse.
If she approaches during studio breaks, she says she has to take a call.
If Taylor asks her to wait when their meetings with Liam end, Abigail says she doesn’t have time and leaves.
If she goes to her office, Patricia won’t let her in because Abigail doesn’t give her permission when she asks.
And so it goes, until Taylor makes one last attempt after they finish an interview with a respected music journalist who’s a friend of Liam’s.
The man leaves the room after saying goodbye, and Abigail stands at the same time as Liam.
Taylor wishes he were already gone, because that woman’s icy answers cut so deep that lately she feels like crying and breaking things, and when that happens she feels so pathetic she doesn’t want Liam there to see it; but if she lets Abigail walk out and into her office, she won’t see her again until the next day.
"Abigail, can you wait a second?"
"What do you need?" she asks, turning, her voice cold enough to freeze hell in three seconds.
"To talk to you," Taylor answers, standing tall as if it didn’t bother her that Abigail won’t even look at her.
"I can’t right now. Tomorrow, at the studio," she says, and walks out without another word.
Taylor knows that’s a lie. Tomorrow at the studio she’ll come up with another excuse, or she’ll simply ignore her until Taylor gives up and stops trying.
"Can I help?" Liam asks.
The singer swallows and shakes her head while forcing her lips into a smile.
"No, Liam, thanks. It’s just something silly about the studio session," she lies. "It can wait."
She’s the one who hurries out now, to keep him from asking more questions.
Liam closes the door and heads straight for Abigail’s office.
He doesn’t ask if he can come in, doesn’t even knock—he just opens the door and walks in, ignoring his partner’s murderous look.
She’s sitting with her arms crossed over her chest, legs stretched out, and her laptop closed on the desk.
"You don’t look very busy," Liam says, taking a seat across from her.
"What?"
Liam gestures at the desk and at her, making it clear she isn’t working.
"You told Taylor you couldn’t see her, so I figured you must be very tied up right now—making a thousand calls, scaring the shit out of executives until they cave to your demands, you know, that sort of thing," he says, dripping sarcasm.
Abigail stares at him without a word, then simply picks up a pen and starts twirling it between her fingers.
"Did something happen with Taylor that I don’t know about? Because if this is your way of punishing her for last week’s meeting, you’re going too far," Liam says.
"I’m going too far?" Abigail arches her brows. "As far as I know, I’m not doing anything to her."
Liam attempts a smile that doesn’t quite land, and that really annoys Abigail.
"You’re treating her like she’s radioactive, Abby. You’re ignoring her like she’s a piece of furniture. We’re supposed to pamper our artists, make them feel comfortable and motivated so they give their best. And you’re sinking her with your shitty hostile behavior. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Since when do I have to pamper anyone?" Abigail asks, straightening in her chair.
Liam lets out a loud guffaw just picturing it.
"Well, that would be impossible, of course. We’d have to start you off with teddy bears, then pets, and finally try babies before moving on to adults," he jokes.
"Fuck you, Liam," Abigail spits.
Liam has to work hard to stop laughing.
"Okay, Jesus, Abby. Seriously now. I’m not saying pamper her—it was just a figure of speech—but there are basic levels of civility.
You had them before and now you don’t; I’m just asking if something happened.
I know Taylor’s a bit intense and you’re not exactly overflowing with patience, but you’re her agent. .."
"Exactly. Her agent, not her babysitter or her mother," she cuts in, weary. "My job is to get her a good contract, land her tours and sponsors, and make sure no one cheats her. Beyond that, what happens to her isn’t my business."
Liam stands and starts pacing the office with his hands in his pockets. Even for him, communicating with Abigail is sometimes hard.
"It’s called humanity, Abby—empathy. We ripped her out of a town of five thousand and dropped her into a city of more than eight million.
She’s alone, disoriented; and the closest thing to family or friends she has right now is us—especially you.
We’re her family here until she gets settled.
That’s how it is, always, with everyone.
She trusts you, and you’re brushing her off like she’s a fucking bug you want to crush under those impossible heels. "
Abigail stands too, only she props her shoulder against the window and looks out.
Her throat is tight and her heart is pounding at her temples.
She hasn’t stopped to analyze it from that angle; she’s only been trying to do what she thinks is best for Taylor’s career.
Nothing that happened in that meeting would have happened if she’d been focused.
If Taylor had been any other client, Abigail would have anticipated it.
She would have moved closer and whispered for her to hold back and stay calm when she realized she was getting nervous.
She would have laid a hand on her arm and assured her she had no intention of letting them change her style, and of course she would have advised her to sing without forcing the rasp—but without hiding it either.
Abigail didn’t do any of that because she couldn’t get close to Taylor and whisper; her soft, wild scent would have made her dizzy, her warmth would have set her on fire, and the brush of her skin would have sent so many jolts through her body that her sharp, ruthless business mind would have melted, and she’d have had to pour all her energy into finding the will not to kiss her neck or take her by the hand and pull her out of that room straight to the bathrooms.
That’s what Taylor does to her, and that’s not what Taylor needs from her if she wants to make it. It isn’t what Abigail needs from Taylor, either. She’s good at her job, and her job is all she has; she likes it, and it drives her. Take that away, and Abigail will have nothing.
"I’ll be nicer," she murmurs without looking at Liam, "but I’m not giving her bear hugs."
"Sounds good."
Liam nods, rounds his friend’s desk, and perches on the wood.
"Abby, are you okay?" he whispers.
She turns and nods. She’s not about to tell him she thinks she’s falling for Taylor—or that she probably already has; she wouldn’t know how.
"Things okay with Erin? How long has she been at your place—three weeks? You must be losing your mind," Liam says.
Abigail smiles and then lifts an eyebrow as she looks at him.
"It’s no worse than when she visits. Besides, she’s a good cook." Abigail shrugs.
"Wow, I’m impressed. You, praising anything about your sister instead of thinking about buying her a ticket to send her packing early," Liam murmurs.
"She’s not leaving this time, I already told you, so I have to start getting used to her being around or I’ll go crazy."
"You two could come over to my mom’s for dinner one night. She’d love to see you and meet your sister," Liam suggests.
"Don’t push it. We’re not some fucking happy family," Abigail snaps.
"Because you don’t want to be. Erin’s always been there; you’re the one who insists on keeping her at arm’s length."
Abigail clenches her jaw and checks her watch, covering it with her other hand as she thinks.
"Are you done telling me how awful I am? Anyone else you think I’m treating badly?"
Liam stands.
"Me, obviously," he jokes to ease the tension, giving her shoulder a light squeeze as he moves away. "You always break my heart with comments like that. Oh, I almost forgot. Tomorrow you should push Taylor’s production session to later. Clarisa has landed a meeting with a clothing brand that’s interested in sponsoring Taylor when the time comes, but it has to be at nine. "
"No problem. I’ll call Demian. I’ll try to schedule tomorrow’s session for later, and if he can’t, we’ll cancel it," Abigail says, sitting back down.
"Perfect. Can you pick Taylor up too? Adam can’t go that early."
Abigail looks up, but says nothing.
"That way you can start being nice," Liam says with a smile.
"Close the door on your way out," she snaps, bringing that impromptu meeting to an end.