Page 17 of Willow in the Wind

Would he see it?

Would he know?

Oh, but she knew he’d built an enormous life. She knew she didn’t factor into it in the slightest.

She was just a blip in his incredible, adventurous story.

She was happy to be a blip.

It had meant she’d gotten to know him when she’d had the chance.

Chapter Six

June 2024

James was back in London. Despite the season and the bright sun across the rest of the Northern Hemisphere, the city of his birth was glossy with rain. A thick blanket of clouds pulled through the glass skyscrapers and cuddled against the cozy pubs. It was only fifty-two degrees.

But James was accustomed to the moodiness of London. It suited him. It suited the music he often listened to. Wearing his new noise-canceling headphones, he waded through the streets, listening intently to the brand-new album of a musician he was set to interview next week. Frank Baxter. He was a little bit older than James, but his lyrics were inspired; his take on the movement of a song was different from anything James had heard. It gave James hope for something. Maybe it was just hope for his creative future and career.

James paused at a crosswalk and waited as a massive red double-decker bus went by. James was always extra careful in London. He’d spent so much time in America at this point that he’d grown accustomed to people driving on the right side of theroad rather than the left. He had no desire to be run over. There were still so many things he needed to do.

The dampness was getting to him. His bones felt weary. He ducked into a pub called The Three Pigeons and sat at the ornate wooden bar, warming his hands. It was a little past six at night, and the pub filled up with people leaving work and meeting friends. A balding man in the corner kissed his girlfriend with reckless abandon; it was the sort of passion James thought was faked. But what did he know about passion?

He’d once known, he remembered. He’d once understood.

The bartender poured James a beer. It was crisp and cold and good, but it warmed his insides after his long walk.

He pulled his phone from his pocket to find several texts from Taylor. She was back in New York, taking summer classes at Pratt University. She sent a selfie of herself in the library, plus the text:All my friends are outside enjoying their lives, and I’m HERE. Miserable.

James laughed to himself. His heart ballooned with pride.

It was hard to believe that it had already been two years ago that Taylor had left New York to travel across the country with her boyfriend Aiden’s metal-rock band, Bad Habit. At the time, James and Nancy hadn’t known what to make of it.Our daughter! She needs to be in school!But true to Taylor, she’d found a way to squeeze the most life and artistry out of that time.

It was a new type of world, James knew. He didn’t always know what to make of it. But just as soon as Taylor left for tour, she began posting videos, blogs, status updates, and photographs that captured what life on the road was like in the 2020s. She was sort of like a music journalist, but with her own take on things, her own creativity spun into it. As Bad Habit continued across the country, she asked for personal interviews with the bands they toured with, and she even left Bad Habit fora period to play bass for an all-girl rock band whose full-time bassist broke her hand playing volleyball.

Taylor was soon just as famous as Bad Habit.

Bad Habit’s fame continued with Taylor’s.

Now, in the summer of 2024, Taylor Atkinson was something of an It-girl. She had nearly a million followers on Instagram and TikTok, and she’d been featured in several fashion and lifestyle magazines. Girls wanted to wear what she was wearing. Men wanted to date her.

But Taylor was a romantic, James knew. She was still head over heels for Aiden. And now that Aiden and Bad Habit were in New York City, recording a new album and chilling out after two years of nearly nonstop touring, Taylor had decided to stay in the city, too. That was why she’d enrolled in classes at Pratt. That was why she was trapped at a library. Because she still saw validity in education.

James was now accustomed to musicians he interviewed asking him, “Wait, is Taylor Atkinson your daughter?”

“She always lands on her feet,” James and Nancy had begun to tell each other when they spoke on the phone every few weeks. “We have to trust her.”

James and Nancy had both come around on Aiden, too. He’d seemed greasy and tired and useless during that first meeting. But the truth was, he was a driven musician who rarely drank alcohol. You had to be driven to make it in this industry. James knew that.

The bartender put another pint on the bar. “All right, mate?” he asked James.

“Sure thing,” James said.

“Gloomy as all get-out, ain’t it?”

James laughed. “I prefer it.” He sipped his beer. “I moved to New York many years ago. It doesn’t suit me. My skin needs the rain.”

“New York? You like it over there?” The bartender dried a pint glass and put it on a shelf.

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