“What do you mean when you say I can’t go?” Luke said, as Parker Moseley stood in his path to the hotel doors and a taxi.
“It’s a contractual obligation. There’s a financial penalty clause if you don’t go to the event.”
“Well, you can shove your penalty clause up your arse. You might have noticed I’m in the middle of a personal situation right now.”
Matt put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Moseley, we get it, we’ll be back. We’ll play again.”
“That won’t sit well with the people who have already made arrangements to be here today.”
Jase scoffed. “Here’s the part you are missing. Will needs Luke, and Luke needs us. It’s pretty fucking simple.”
“But surely this is a media problem. It’s not like this is a medical emergency. Couldn’t it wait another ten hours?”
“How much is the clause?” Alex asked.
“Fifty grand.”
Alex looked to Matt. “Done. Tell me where to send the check.”
Luke shook his head. “Guys, I can pay this.” He’d have to use the money from Willow, but something told him she wouldn’t care.
“Pretty sure we just made the decision as a band,” Ben said, picking up his bag and putting it over his shoulder.
Moseley held his hands out. “Look. Guys. You need to be there. You can’t be a no-show. Doesn’t she have any family of her own she could turn to until this afternoon?”
Ben stepped up to Moseley, a good foot taller than the guy. “With respect, you need to fuck off. She’s pregnant. She’s already had one scare. This whole fucking media circus is creating interest in who the fuck we are and the album. All publicity is good publicity, yeah? And as for family—family isn’t lines on a flow chart. You think we give a shit about whose mum or dad is or isn’t their own. If one of our own needs us, we’re there.”
“Fine. I’ll reschedule. But you are paying for any cancellation fees.”
“I don’t fucking care,” Luke said, heading for the cab.
Two more hours until he was on the plane.
Once in the cab, he looked at his phone. Then, his camera roll. All the times he’d caught Willow off guard. While she had all the perfect shots with perfect framing, he had ones that caught the real Willow. Makeup-less. Gazing out of the window. Smiling at something in that never-ending pile of female empowerment books. And all the outtakes of the ones she’d taken as a couple. When they were laughing, when he forgot they were filming and kissed her.
There was something he could do.
And he had two hours to figure out how to do it.
21
Willow looked at the cup of tea in front of her. She’d choked down the one at Izabel’s, but somehow, the one the band’s nan had made looked strong enough to melt asphalt.
When Willow had arrived, Nan had hugged her and told her she needed a cup of tea strong enough to stand a spoon up in.
It looked grim, but as she watched Izabel, Chaya, Cerys, and Zoe chug the stuff down, she decided to give it a go.
She sipped it, and piping hot liquid burned her tongue. And, yup, grim.
“I saw that face,” Chaya whispered across the small dining table.
“It’s tea,” Willow whispered. “I can’t get my head around your obsession with it.”
Chaya laughed. “Perhaps if you’d drunk it instead of throwing it all into the harbour, your ancestors would have gotten a taste for it and passed it on to you.”
“Funny. I feel bad because Nan got Pat to pick up a box of decaf tea when she came over.” She leaned back slightly in her chair to confirm that Nan and Pat, who were busy making sandwiches, couldn’t hear her.
“This is Izabel.”
Willow looked across the table to where Izabel held the cell phone they’d bought for the sole purpose of receiving calls. It had been Zoe’s idea to get it.
It had been Izabel’s idea for her to field the calls. It had been Chaya’s idea for the five of them to work together. It had been Cerys’s idea to let her and Zoe work on the statement. It had been Matt’s idea to move it to Nan’s when the press had tracked down Luke’s apartment building. It had been Nan’s idea to invite Pat over so they could take care of all of them.
Six women who had her back. Six women who barely knew her. Six women who hadn’t asked for payment or access or anything.
“No, she has no comment on that right now,” Izabel said, her voice as saccharine as sugar. “She’ll be making a joint statement with Mr. Bryson in the next twenty-four hours . . . yes, I understand . . . no, she does not owe you or anybody a comment at this time. And please be aware we will be taking action against egregious misstatements. Thank you.”
“Lunch,” Nan cried, placing a large platter of sandwiches down on the table. “Ham and cheese, egg and cress, and cucumber with tinned salmon I stocked up when they had that special on at Aldi. On fresh barms that Pat picked up on her way over.”
“Barms?” Willow asked.
“Barm cake, bap, bun, cob, batch, bread rolls, bin lid. That last one is Liverpool,” Cerys said. “Our country has about seven million ways of saying it. Each town will fiercely contest that their word is the correct one.”
“You English are weird.”
“As a Welsh woman, I agree,” Cerys said. “The English are weird.”
Chaya laughed. “Says the country with the second longest place name in the world. Can you say it?”
Cerys rolled her eyes. “Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. It’s the trick pony we pull out on special occasions.”
“Eat up, chick,” Pat said, running her hand over Willow’s hair softly.
She could see where Ben and Alex got their good looks from. Their mom was attractive, but tired. Weary. “I don’t feel hungry.”
“I know. It’s not easy being in the eye of the storm, is it? But you need to keep your strength up. And Luke is only out of contact for another ten minutes until his plane lands. And it’s less than fifteen minutes from the airport to here.”
Her phone rang, making her jump.
“I’ll get it,” Chaya said, reaching for it, but Willow noticed the name.
Riley.
“No, it’s my bestie. I’ll take it.” Willow could feel the sting of tears as she answered. “Oh my God, Riley. Did you see what happened? What the hell am I supposed to do? I don’t know how, but I know my dad was involved somehow.” She jogged up the stairs to Nan’s small bathroom and pushed the door. “I don’t know all these people, and I know they are so loyal to Luke, but somehow, one of them must have mentioned something to the wrong person.”
“I’m so sorry,” Riley said, her voice choked. Her hair was still in the braid she always slept in, and she wore her glasses instead of her contacts.
God, Willow was just so happy to see her best friend. “It’s not your fault, babe. It just really sucks. I thought this was going to be the best way to get through it, and now it’s all backfired. What do you think I should do?”
Riley sniffed, tears spilling over her lashes too. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that was what he was going to do with the information. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known.”