Chapter 41 “Wonderland” - Taylor Swift
“Wonderland” - Taylor Swift
Several Months Later
Saylor
“Tell us about your latest hit, ‘Combat Boots,’” Sandra Clark says, directing her attention toward Rhett. She’s fortyish, with that TV bob haircut in a blond that is definitely not natural, but which looks good nonetheless.
Rhett grins and looks at me where I’m sitting beside him on the sofa.
These seats aren’t as comfortable as they look on-screen.
“I wrote it about Saylor, of course.” Our hands are already twined together, which Sandra aww’ed over when we first sat down, but Rhett tightens his grip even more, his eyes telling me all the things he plans to do to me later.
“Of course,” Sandra says. “And how does it feel to be thrust into the spotlight, Saylor?”
I feel the heat rising to my face, although it won’t be noticeable to anyone else, thanks to the thick layers of TV makeup I’m wearing. “It took some getting used to,” I say, glancing at Rhett. “But it’s worth it.”
“And have you thought about selling the boots?” Humor lines Sandra’s voice. “I’m sure they’d fetch a pretty penny on eBay.”
We all look down at my beat-up Doc Martens, and the camera crew zooms in for a close-up. I laugh. “Nah, they’re too special for that.”
The live audience titters at this, and Rhett squeezes my hand again.
I’ve said the right thing, even though it’s not really true.
Sure, I like them, but mostly because I got them for a hell of a deal when they were donated to Justine’s Attic years ago, not because they were the inspiration for Rhett Cole’s latest hit.
“Combat Boots” has taken the world by storm since he posted that video, easily outperforming all of his other songs to date. He’s had more offers than he can keep track of since leaving Lunar Records.
“What are your plans, Rhett?” Sandra asks. “You left your label after a conflict of interest.” And had to pay a hefty sum for breaking your contract, she doesn’t add. “Are you planning to sign with a new label in the future?”
Rhett shifts on the sofa, but keeps a firm grasp on my hand. “At the moment, I’m happy dipping my toes in the indie waters. But I don’t know what the future holds.” He turns his eyes to me again, and I feel his smile down to my toes.
I moved into his condo last month. He would have happily moved into my flat with me, but I was tired of bumping into the fridge every time I turned on the stove.
All that space was hard to turn down, especially given the way Leo likes exploring.
I did make Rhett promise to let me decorate it, and he was only too happy to comply.
“What about for the two of you?” Sandra says, settling back in her seat across from us. “What are your plans for the future?”
I feel rather than see Rhett grinning beside me, but I keep my eyes on Sandra. The truth is, we’ve talked about the future, but only in vague terms. Am I willing to risk getting married again? Surprisingly, yes. What I share with Rhett feels like a universe apart from anything Nate and I ever had.
Does Rhett feel the same way? It’s hard to tell.
Every time the subject comes up, he evades it or makes a comment that could be taken either way.
My verdict is that he won’t be ready for a long time.
Getting Rhett Cole to settle down would be the accomplishment of a lifetime, and I have no desire to rush anything.
“Every plan for my future involves Saylor,” Rhett says, releasing my hand and putting his arm around my shoulders.
“We’ll have to see how they play out.” It’s a typical response from him, so I smile at Sandra to show her and everyone watching that I’m happy with our situation.
And I am. Truly. Even if we never make it official, if I get to grow old with him, that’s enough for me.
* * *
Tonight’s concert is at a local music venue. It’s a sold-out four-hour show, and Rhett is the headliner. All of the guys except Jamal stayed with him when he left Lunar Records. It wasn’t hard to find a new rhythm guitarist, and Blake is great.
Rhett and the band do a few of these shows a month and are working on producing their first indie album. It keeps him just busy enough to not get bored, while still giving him plenty of time for other things, like spoiling Leo with too many cat treats and buying me things he shouldn’t.
Tonight’s crowd is smaller than the ones during the US tour. I assumed that since I’m local, no one would care about our relationship, but they eat it up almost as much as the Americans. Which means the pit is out of the question for me, according to Rhett.
“I look just like a groupie,” I say, gesturing to my outfit—a Rhett Cole T-shirt, ripped jeans (from some high-end designer brand, thanks to Rhett’s Amex), a flannel tied around my waist, and my trusty Docs.
His eyelids drop even lower over his eyes, a clear sign he’s annoyed. “Baby, that gorgeous face has been blowing up on TV and social media. Everyone would recognize you.”
“I hate watching from the side stage.” The view sucks, and tonight I want to feel the energy in the pit.
“I’ll go with her,” someone behind me says.
I turn to find Leo standing in the doorway of the backstage area, face devoid of expression as usual. “Leo!” I haven’t seen him since the tour, and the memories he brings with him makes my eyes water. I walk toward him and throw my arms around his burly chest.
“Hey, mate,” Rhett says, joining us. He reaches out a hand to shake Leo’s, effectively positioning himself between me and my former PPO. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
Leo shrugs. “Thought I’d see if you needed additional security tonight.”
I turn my best set of puppy dog eyes on Rhett.
He huffs out an annoyed sigh. “Fine. But you are not to leave her side.”
“Yes, sir.” Leo nods. “You have my word.”
He escorts me toward the crowd after Rhett gives me a scorching goodbye kiss. I’m more elated at having gotten my way than I am about being in the pit for the show. The energy buzzing around in here makes me lightheaded.
When Rhett finally takes the stage, it feels like my heart will jump right out of my chest and into his arms. He is hands-down the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and he’s all mine.
Letting myself fall in love with him has been the most exhilarating experience of my life.
No holding back, no fear of getting caught, just unbridled love.
Tonight he’s wearing black straight-leg jeans, a paisley-print shirt over a white tank top, and several metal chains around his neck.
His hands each have at least four rings on them as well.
He pulls off the rockstar look well, but my favorite is when we’re at home and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants.
Or nothing at all. Rather partial to that one, if I’m being honest.
His eyes immediately seek me out, although I know he’s trying not to make it apparent to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to me.
After several of his top hits, I know he’s about to transition into “Combat Boots.” Chase switches to a minor tone on the keys, and while the crowd may not recognize what’s coming, I do.
Rhett told me his plan, and I agreed to it.
Now that we are officially together, the spotlight has become part of our life.
I’m still getting used to it, but Rhett makes it easier.
His eyes catch mine once more, then land on Leo, who is dutifully standing behind me.
They exchange a meaningful look, then Leo nudges me forward with a hand on my back.
From the stage, Rhett’s voice rings out. “As many of you know, I went on tour last fall.”
The crowd cheers at this.
“During that tour, I fell in love with the most amazing girl,” he continues. More cheering. “She’s actually here tonight. Would you all like to meet her?”
Fans across the venue go wild. Leo and I are at the front of the pit now, and Rhett meets us at the edge of the stage. Leo boosts me up, and Rhett grabs me. Then I’m onstage with him again, but this time it’s under very different circumstances—namely, that I agreed to it.
The lights are blinding. I remember that from last time, but I still don’t know how Rhett handles it all the time. The cheering is deafening, and a chant breaks out. “Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.”
Rhett grins and leans toward me, capturing my mouth with his, much to the delight of his fans.
He swings his guitar behind his back and grabs my face with both hands.
Catcalls ring out, but neither of us is paying any attention.
Even in front of thousands of people, he has the ability to make my knees go weak with desire.
He finally pulls back, but only to nuzzle my nose with his own.
“Stay for the song?” he asks. I nod in agreement, and he approaches the microphone, his arm slung around my shoulders.
“As you may know, Saylor inspired my biggest hit to date.” Rhett lets go of me to grab his guitar and play the first few chords.
If I thought the roaring was loud before, it’s reached insanity levels now.
The band plays the song, Rhett sneaking kisses between verses, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been so happy before.
Watching him do what he loves on his own terms—it’s incredible.
Our life is far from perfect, but it’s also so far from where I was just a few months ago that it’s impossible not to feel like I’m tripping out on bliss.
The song always ends with a big flourish, usually Rhett shredding his guitar in a dramatic way, but tonight, he just slips the strap over his head and hands it to one of the guys. I don’t even see who, because I’m too focused on the way he’s focusing on me.
I assumed I would leave the stage after the song, but from the way Rhett is walking toward me, I realize he has something else planned that we did not discuss. My heart is jackhammering in my chest. I trust him, but sometimes what he thinks is a good idea is still a far cry from my own.
When he’s right in front of me, he leans in close and whispers, “Trust me?” as if reading my thoughts.
I nod silently, then gasp when he drops to one knee before me. Surprisingly, the crowd goes silent, as though we’re all collectively holding our breaths.
Rhett reaches into the pocket of his jeans, and I know what he’s pulling out before I see it. We all do.
The box is covered in black velvet, and with one glance, I can already tell this ring cost a fortune. He pops the lid open, revealing not the custom designer stone I expected but an oval-shaped sapphire surrounded by diamonds on a thin gold band that is clearly antique.
Tears are flooding my eyes before I’ve even processed any of this. “Rhett,” I whisper, but he just smiles up at me.
“Saylor Elizabeth Jones,” he says, and I’m glad there’s no microphone.
Everyone can see us, but no one can hear anything we say.
“I love you. God, I’d move heaven and earth if you asked me to.
” He swipes at the moisture in his own eyes.
“Will you marry me? I swear to love you forever and treat you like a fucking princess every day of your life.”
I gulp out a laugh. “Will you let me have the biggest piece of cheesecake?”
“Always,” he says solemnly, and I know he means it.
I wipe my eyes again, not sure which desire is stronger: the one to laugh or cry. “Of course I’ll marry you,” I say through the tears.
He gets up so fast it startles me, but he catches me before I can stumble backward. Holding me by the waist, he twirls me around in circles, and the crowd goes wild once more.