Page 29 of Three Months Yesterday

“Not getting into the specifics of what that actually means, I’ll just say that I’ve recorded fourteen albums over the last twenty years, and they’ve all done really well—way better than I ever could have imagined for myself, even at this point in my career.”

“All right…” She draws it out, her concern morphing to confusion, and I can’t say I blame her with my rambling.

“All that to say, I haven’t written anything new in over seven months, and it’s been even longer since I’ve actually found enjoyment in making music.”

Madison’s body relaxes, her hands falling from her hips, and something like pity filling her eyes. “I want to come back to how the number of albums you’ve recorded correlates to why you haven’t written anything in a while, but for now, what’s the favor?”

It’s my turn to be confused.

How do the two things not correlate? Of course my success should help push the fact that me not writing in almost a year is a big deal. That’s not pride or ego talking. It’s proof of how serious it is that I’m not creating anything new.

Fourteen albums in twenty years is roughly eighteen months between each album. At this point, there really isn’t any hope of me staying on pace to release my next album in the same timeline. It’s not just the label and Aaron breathing down my neck, it’s the pressure of letting my fans down too.

Madison reaches for me, placing her hand on my forearm. “I just mean that music is clearly a part of you.” She pulls her hand back, her eyes shifting over my shoulder before she continues. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think someone would continue doing what you are for over two decades without loving it.” Her face softens as she brings her eyes back to mine. “Your success doesn’t have any bearing on that. The simple fact you haven’t written in such a long time is enough to tell me how big your favor is.”

I have to stop myself from taking a step away from her. Her words and understanding look, like somehow she knows I haven’t been viewed as anything other than a commodity from most of the people in my life, hits me in a way I don’t understand.

Or maybe it has nothing to do with anyone else and everything to do with the fact that Madison’s words make me realize I don’t think I love what I do anymore. And I’m not sure when I stopped loving it, but I think it’s been a lot longer than three years.

“Decided to look me up?” I force a smile, trying to shift us back to lighter territory. Now isn’t the time for me to analyze my life choices.

I can’t change anything about where I am in my career right now. I have commitments I have to see through before I can make any drastic changes, but this new realization does mean I need to start thinking about what I want my future to look like.

“Of course not,” Madison rushes to say. “I said I didn’t want to, and I meant it. Anything I’ve learned has been from you.”

“I’m just teasing.” The smile on my lips isn’t forced this time.

I have no doubt there’s something magical about this place that somehow constantly brings the light back into the moment, but I think that magic might just be Madison Hawthorne herself.

She pushes at me with a slight chuckle, and I love the sound. “What’s the favor?”

“Right.” I shake my head, nearly forgetting the whole point of me stalking her this morning. “I didn’t really expect to find the joy in music again, so I only brought my acoustic with me. I know it’s a big ask, and it will require moving things around, but I was wondering if I could make space for a piano in the cottage?”

“Oh.” The smile falls from Madison’s lips, and her entire body goes stiff.

“It’s okay if the answer’s no. I know it’s a big favor.”

“It’s not that.” She looks over her shoulder to her house, her weight shifting from foot to foot before her gaze comes back to me.

The sight of her biting her bottom lip has fire heating my veins, and an image of me soothing the bite takes center stage in my mind.

“I…” Her words stop and I have to force myself to pay attention. “I actually have a piano in the house.” She gestures over her shoulder. “I don’t know anything about pianos, but the guy who was out here restoring it seemed pretty impressed.” She shrugs, as if it’s not a big deal.

If I didn’t see the tension in how tight her shoulders are or her anxiety in the way she continues to shift her weight, I might not think anything of it.

“You’re offering to let me use the piano in your house?” I ask, wanting to make sure I understand.

Madison visibly swallows, her eyes bouncing between mine, as if she’s studying me. Maybe trying to decide if she can trust me in her space.

“Yeah.” Her body sags as she releases a sigh. “Only if you think it’ll work for you. There’s a lot going on around here, and that piano deserves to get some use. It’s too beautiful to just sit there gathering dust.”

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m invading your space more than I already am.” A self-deprecating laugh slips free.

I hope she didn’t see me sitting on my porch waiting for her.

“I honestly don’t know how much I’ll be around the next few weeks. Thanksgiving to Christmas is pretty busy around here.”

My brows crease and I can’t help the worry that laces my words. “Maybe you should hire some help.”