Page 45 of Your Play to Call

No one breathes. No one moves. Claire’s eyes are saucers out of my peripheral vision. I feel like my skin could fall off. I hate going against the grain, asking for things outside of what’s considered the norm, but this is necessary. I called my lawyer this morning. I wanted a refresher on the contract and what is outstanding.

“Our current contract ends in eleven months. I’ve put out the music required. I can wait to put this out.” I’ve done everything I’ve agreed to.

“Is that true?” Erik turns to someone, who I suspect knows the contract details down to the nitty gritty.

He slowly nods. “Willow is right. She’s satisfied the album and tour quota, plus some. She technically doesn’t need to do anything else while under contract.”

The room stills.

I look over at Emilie, and she is holding back a laugh, which makes me feel better.

“Fine. Let’s explore this route and see what other markets we can unlock,” Erik says, which is code for “you win but I’m going to pretend like this is an opportunity I thought of”.

“Good idea, Erik,” Claire croons sarcastically.

“Thank you for giving this a chance. I’ll check in once I’m halfway through the tracks so we can get the details nailed down.”

“Works for us. Happy writing,” Erik says as he gets up, checking his phone. He’s done here.

Chapter 27

Tripp

The stopped traffic istaunting me. As I sit in my unmoving car, my fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel, I think about the wasted time. It’s the middle of the week, nowhere near the weekend, yet the roads are jam-packed. The minutes tick by, just like the stop-and-go traffic.

I hate that I’m missing a bonus hyperbaric chamber session but know that spending time with Lo is a different type of “worth it.”

I’m exhausted. I stayed late at the training facility yesterday and my muscles are paying for it today. I mentally put TRX bands on the no-list for bonus workouts. It’s been a while since I’ve been this sore.

I’m talking to my mom, one of my favorite ways to pass the time on a drive.

“Where did you end up, Tripp?” She knows something is up as I pull into Willow’s driveway.

“What do you mean?” I try to bluff.

“You know what I mean. I just heard you whisper some hush-hush words to what sounded like a security gate.”

The guilt creeps up my neck, giving me goosebumps. I hate keeping things from my mom.

“I’m at Willow’s. We’ve been sort of—”

“Seeing each other? I know. I wanted you to tell me.”

“How did you know?” My brain runs through how I could’ve let this slip.

“You left your bonus phone on the end table while you were making one of those disgusting green juices the other day. Saw her name pop up.” Her smile is clear as glass over the phone. I’m amazed she waited this long to ask me. That was days ago. “She seems lovely.”

“She is. It’s been a little over a month.” There’s a rock in my stomach. More guilt. “Listen, Mom, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Tripp James.” Is there anything more severe than a mom using your middle name? “You’re allowed to live and have your own secrets. Now, get off the phone. I love you.” She hangs up before I even have time to register the conversation.

My phone screen goes dark in my lap. I smile, feeling lighter now that my mom knows.

I approach Willow's door, each step slow and sore. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, eager to reveal itself. In my hands, I carry a small box containing tiramisu from our favorite restaurant, a sweet reminder of our first date. Willow had insisted I walk in when I arrived, so that’s what I do.

With a gentle push, the door swings open, revealing the warmth of her home, her space. The vaulted ceilings and open floor plan could feel empty, or lacking, but not with Willow. Music plays louder than you’d expect, and when I see Willow dancing in the kitchen, the frustration from the terrible traffic and the guilt of keeping this secret from my mom is gone. My mood flips and it’s like I’m a little lighter just by being in her presence—how does she do that?

I close my eyes, breathe in, and whatever she’s cooking makes my mouth water. A smile stretches my lips as I let the door close.