“The Desire Map. It’s about creating a meaningful life.”
He lifted the book carefully to look at the orange and purple cover. “‘Goals with soul’? You already have a lot of goals.”
“Yes. But I’m always looking for growth. And the journey I was on has changed. Figured it would help to reread and reset my expectations for the next eighteen months. Do you set goals?”
Luke lowered the book. “Not much of a goal setter. More of a ‘do what you can and hope shit happens’ kind of guy. How did the posting go?”
“You mean you didn’t look?” Willow asked, glancing up. “I put that first video up nearly three days ago.”
Luke shrugged. “Didn’t know I was supposed to.”
Willow rolled her eyes and put her book down on the sofa. “Give me your phone.”
Luke slipped it out of his pocket. “Here. But if you go mooching around on there, you’re going to see shit you wished you hadn’t.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, her stomach flipping over. “Have you been—?”
“Fuck. No. But. Well. I haven’t deleted shit that may already be on there.”
Okay. Past stuff she could deal with. “I wasn’t planning on going through your messages. There. I installed some apps. Now, you follow me, and you can see the post and comment. Comments would be good. You could say something like—”
“I’ll say what I feel like saying when I feel like saying it, flower.”
Willow grinned. “Of course you will.”
Luke took his phone back from her. “Holy shit, Will. That post has over a million likes.”
“Yeah. And about fifteen thousand comments.”
“Me commenting now is a bit late.”
“You’d be surprised. I’ve got fans who will be watching to see if you follow me. If you post about me. Check your own comments on your first post.”
She watched as Luke opened a picture she knew he’d posted over a year ago. “What the . . . This is just a picture of my old kit at a gig in Coventry and there are now . . . three hundred comments that nearly all mention you.”
“And that’s how fandoms are made.”
“What the fuck is LuLow?”
Willow began to laugh and reached for her coffee cup. “My guess is that’s our ’ship name. You know, our relationship name. First two letters of your name—”
“Alright. I’m not a total dinosaur. There’re only six years between us.”
“I turned twenty-three in March, you turned thirty in April. It’s seven.”
Luke gave her side eye, but the grin told her he didn’t mean it. “Fair enough. LuLow. Better than WiKe, I suppose.”
Willow laughed. “Definitely. Do you know how to share from my profile to your own?”
“Vaguely remember it.” He scrolled through his phone. “You posted some more images?”
“I did. The images are more about building a home. The videos are about us building a relationship. I share between the two.”
“Huh. The apartment looks so much better through your lens.”
“Thank you. It gets good light.”
“What’s your plan for the day?”
Willow sipped her coffee and glanced down at her laptop. “I’m figuring out what I’m going to say to my dad. He’s been blowing up my phone since I started posting content over here. It’s time for me to address the financials.”
“Want me to stick around? I can get the guys to drive my gear down to London and join them later.”
“It’s okay. It’s just a preliminary conversation to see if he’ll do the right thing before I start legal action.”
Luke’s brow furrowed. “You sure? Sounds like you have a lot to do today that I should be there for, for moral support.”
“I’m not your responsibility, Luke. I’m a grown woman. Plus, we’re eight hours ahead of him. It will be closer to five before I call him, and you’ll miss your meeting or even the gig.”
Luke glanced out of the window and back to her. “I’d miss it if you needed me to.”
He’d been like this. Different. Since he’d got back from rehearsals with the band the previous day. There was nothing she could quite put her finger on, but it bothered her that he was now offering to change his plans to be there for her, like it was out of some misplaced feelings of obligation.
Out of obligation.
While his words told her he would do it if she asked, his tone was filled with a longing to continue on with his own plans. From what she’d learned of him over the last few days, he’d made sacrifices for his sister, for the band, for his relationship with Matt. He’d always done the right thing for everyone else, but hadn’t always liked doing it.
“Thank you. But I’ll be fine.” She reached for her coffee and cupped the mug, holding it close to her chest. She wanted to ask the big questions. Had he made his peace with the idea she was pregnant? Would he stay true to their agreement while on the road? Could she trust him? Instead, scared of what he might say, she settled for something far less inflammatory. “What’s your meeting in London about?”
“We get to hear about the tour one day, then about the marketing plans for the album the next.” He looked down at his phone, and she wondered what had him so fixated on it.
Her phone pinged just as he set his down. “It just occurred to me that I shouldn’t be your only contact here. I sent you everyone’s phone numbers so if you need me but can’t get hold of me, you might be able to get hold of one of them. As a precaution, obviously.”
“I appreciate that.” A loud honk from the road outside caused her to stand and go look out of the window.
“That’ll be Ben. He gets impatient.”
A black car sat on the kerb. “Go. Have fun. Wait. One last question. Will you . . . I mean, this only works if you don’t . . .”
“Hook up?” Luke stepped into her space. “Don’t worry, Will. I know how to keep it in my pants.”
Willow raised an eyebrow.
“Fine. There’s no precedent here. But trust me.”
“I’m not big on trust right now.”
He touched her cheek gently. “I know. Let me know how you get on with your dad.” He leaned toward her, his eyes fixed on hers, and she wondered for a moment if he’d kiss her. Instead, he awkwardly patted her forearm. “Okay. Be safe.”
Willow grabbed her camera. Her musician out in the wild. She wanted to create a video about what he’d told her. How one record signing didn’t change their world. Once the camera was secured on its stand, she zoomed in. Matt opening the door, Alex jumping inside. Luke flipping the bird at a car that honked as it passed too close to the side of Ben’s door.
What she wouldn’t give to have what they had.
Friendship.
Camaraderie.
When they drove off, she stood for several minutes just staring at the space they’d left behind. She wandered back to the kitchen counter and grabbed her phone, still open on Luke’s profile. There was a new photograph. Of her. A candid, slightly blurry image he’d taken moments ago while she’d been looking down at her book. She held her cup with both hands, nearly to her lips. She was smiling.