NINE

"...I'm doing better than I ever was..."

———

February 19th, 2018

"Hey! Stop—You're both sisters whether you like it or not!—"

Taylor was in the middle of playing her unofficial role as peacekeeper between her two cats when a knock echoed throughout her Chelsea apartment. She furrowed her eyebrows, curious at the unexpected visitor, but then sauntered barefoot into the foyer anyway. It was probably one of her security guards dropping off a package.

"Hi there, Sunshine."

Her publicist, Tree, was revealed as she opened the door. Taylor's eyes immediately wandered to the red-haired woman's laptop case and folder in her gloved hands. "I didn't think we had any meetings scheduled for today?" She said, laughing faintly.

"Exactly. So I shouldn't be interrupting anything," Tree noted. She then arched a meticulous eyebrow and smiled. "May I come into your apartment, Taylor?"

Taylor smiled. "Only if you use the magic word."

Her publicist stared at her. "I'm coming into your fucking apartment, Taylor—"

"Fun choice. But not the word I had in mind," Taylor mentioned, stepping aside as the other woman's heels met the hardwood floor. She struggled to suppress a grin as she watched Tree enter the living room and set her purse down. "You packed a little light for a sleepover."

"And if this is your way of telling me you've decided to make a career switch to comedy, I'd like to resign."

Taylor's jaw dropped in mock offense. "You laugh at my jokes all the time."

"It's part of what I signed up for," Tree sighed, pulling her laptop out of its case.

"Wait, I'm not funny?"

"Not what I said," Tree breathed, though a teasing smile formed on her lips.

Taylor sat down on the armchair across from the other woman, pulling her knees up and hugging them against her chest. She glanced out the window, where fresh snow had lightly begun to fall, then returned her gaze to Tree. She watched the woman type a few things on her computer, a crease forming in her brow as she concentrated. Meanwhile, Taylor filed through her brain, trying to think of the reason for the woman's spontaneous visit. Her expression didn't match the one she typically wore to deliver bad news.

"So..." Taylor began lightly, "how are you on this beautiful snowy day?"

"Great." Tree smiled, not looking up from her laptop. "But a cup of coffee might be nice to help me thaw from my walk over here. If that isn't too much to ask?"

"Not at all." When Taylor stood to go into the kitchen, she tried to steal a glance at the woman's laptop, but Tree moved to block her view just as she walked past. She rolled her eyes. Sometime after she hired her publicist, the two of them had developed an incredibly dry, dark-humored way of interacting with one another. Obviously, Taylor enjoyed it. But when she wasn't sure what to expect, it was aggravating.

"So, how many guesses do I get as to why you're—" Taylor stopped when she came back into the living room with two steaming mugs of coffee.

"Here?" Tree laughed, taking one of the cups. "Well, you're smart. So probably just one."

Taylor's eyes remained nailed to the piece of paper in the middle of the coffee table as she sat down. At the top center of the page, in bold, graphically-pleasing font was DOROTHEA J. MADISON.

Taylor sipped her coffee, swallowing carefully. "Yep, I remember putting this in your hands the other day. Along with her work samples," she confirmed. "So does this mean she's cleared for Wednesday?"

"Correct. We ran her background check yesterday. Clean as a whistle,"

Taylor made a face. "The way you say that makes it sound like we're building an FBI team for some high-stakes mission—"

"It's required by law, Miss Law and Order."

"I'm aware."

Tree smiled, sitting back and crossing one of her legs over the other. "I was wondering how you discovered her and her work," she admitted, "but then I was also wondering why she looked so familiar."

"And let me guess, then you remembered—"

"Then I remembered Thea, our lovely server at The Pearl," Tree said, lifting her mug to her lips. "And I also remember seeing you slip several hundred dollar bills in with your father's credit card that you personally handed to her."

Taylor forced a neutral expression. "We had a big party and she gave us great service. She deserved it."

"I don't disagree. She was excellent. And so is her photography," Tree noted.

Taylor nodded slowly, trying to read the other woman's expression. "Anything else you'd like to add?"

Tree lifted an eyebrow. "You tell me."

"I'm not sure what you're implying." Taylor laughed.

"Mhm," her publicist hummed, closing her laptop and standing to gather her things. After putting on her coat and scarf, she turned to Taylor with a smile. "Text her to make sure she knows the address and the time. And remind her that she has to be there early. And also, make sure she knows that we'll have food throughout the day, so she doesn't have to go hunting around for a nearby bodega to grab a bagel—"

"Anything else?" Taylor smirked.

"Yes," Tree exhaled, starting towards the foyer. "Be sure to add some heart emojis on my behalf."

———

February 21st, 2018

In two weeks, her baby would be the size of a kidney bean.

That was what the doctor had told Dorothea at 7:30 the previous morning, along with a novel of other things that was too long to process. After another restless, nauseous night, she was exhausted when she'd dragged herself out of her apartment and rode the subway forty blocks north to the last-minute appointment. And much to her dismay, her OB-GYN informed her that the sickness would most likely continue to worsen. Along with the cramps she'd started feeling about a week ago, her difficulty sleeping, and sore breasts. The soon-to-be-bean-sized life was gradually turning her into a Frankenstein of unbearable symptoms. She wasn't even showing, yet she was already struggling to recognize herself.

Though it was early for an ultrasound, Dr. Marshall had confirmed everything was just how it should be. An overwhelming sense of relief had flooded through Dorothea at this. She hadn't realized how stressed she'd been, but leading up to the appointment, all she could think about was her baby's health. After being deserted by the other parent to her child, she couldn't bear the idea of another loss so soon.

It was five-thirty in the morning when Dorothea popped one of the prenatal vitamins Dr. Marshall recommended into her mouth. She was in her now-usual zombie state as she showered and got dressed in a pair of plaid slacks and an ivory sweater. She was nauseous, but her stomach was empty as she blow-dried her hair and put on some makeup. But she forced her discomfort to take a backseat as she kept glancing back into her room at her camera bag on the floor. It sounded like they were going to provide everything for her, but she still wanted to show up with her camera, tripod, and laptop, just in case.

God, was she nervous.

Everything in the After seemed to be occurring at warp speed. Dorothea could hardly process that along with being pregnant, she was now on her way to her first paid photography shoot. Something she'd dreamed of endlessly in the Before. And it was with one of the world's biggest music artists—who she was—undeniably—becoming very interested in.

As she grabbed her bags and stepped out into the early winter morning darkness, she realized her mother and Maeve only knew fifty-percent of the After. There was now an equally important—though unbelievable—second half that would mean the difference between her moving back to Dallas and staying in Manhattan. If they knew about that, would they see things the way she did?

But also—Where to even begin with that?

Dorothea had no idea, but the current task of getting herself down to SoHo by six-thirty was far more important. Luckily, there was a Q-train pulling in right as she stepped onto the subway platform, and she ended up at the building a few minutes early. After showing her ID to a security guard at the entrance, she was guided down a series of hallways by another one to an expansive space with high ceilings and concrete floors. There were a couple dozen people already there and moving about, and she tried not to let her jaw hit the floor when she spotted the state-of-the-art photography equipment.

"Dorothea!" She spun on her heels to see a woman smiling and hurrying towards her. She recognized her dazzling red-hair, and remembered she was one of the guests she'd served that night at The Pearl. "Tree Paine," she greeted, sticking her hand out, "Taylor's publicist. It's a pleasure to meet you, technically for a second time. You were wonderful to us that night at The Pearl."

"Oh, of course. You were a lovely group." Dorothea beamed as she shook the woman's hand.

"We're all so excited for you to be here," Tree said appreciatively, "and we really appreciate you working on such short notice. What do you say we grab a coffee, tea, whatever you'd like, and we can start going over the game plan for today?"

"Sounds good." Dorothea smiled and followed the woman to what looked like the hair and makeup section of the space. Her cheeks already felt strained from how much she was smiling. Her heart seemed to be in an endless flutter. For once, her pregnancy symptoms were pushed aside by a feeling that was much more exciting.

Dorothea sat in a director's chair next to Tree, sipping a cup of tea as they went over the plan for the shoot. She was suddenly transported back to her short time in college, taking careful notes and nodding eagerly at the woman's instruction. She loved it. But it also made her wish she hadn't given up on school so soon.

The plan was to have the dancers shoot in groups, and those who weren't taking photos would apparently be in another large space across the hall doing choreography rehearsals. After some loose, but encouraging guidance from the Director of the shoot, Dorothea was suddenly planted behind one of the nicest cameras her hands had ever touched. She tried not to let her fingers tremble as she adjusted the settings, nor have her voice shake when she asked one of the assistants to adjust a light by the backdrop. It was strange how only yesterday, she'd been taking orders, and now she was giving them.

The first model walked up in a green crew-neck sweater with black text running in a diagnoal pattern across the front. Dorothea exchanged greetings with the curly-haired girl, then went to work. She was grateful that the Director was doing most of the talking and coaching, so she could make sure they were the best photos she'd ever taken in her life. She knew it sounded dramatic, but she also knew they'd be the difference between if she photographed one model, or the entire dance crew for Taylor's tour.

"These are fucking awesome!" Brad, the Director, lifted his hand for a high-five between them that cracked into the air. "There's no way this is your first paid shoot."

Dorothea laughed, but only shook her head. Her cheeks now ached from how much she was smiling.

The rest of the morning evaporated as she photographed more of the singer's dancers. Dorothea was feeling a sort of happiness she forgot was even possible. With the asisstance of one of the crew members, she switched out the camera batteries and reset the device on the tripod for the last dancer before they planned to break for lunch.

"Damn, look at you!—"

"Oh my gosh!" Dorothea startled as she had just looked into the view-finder and Taylor appeared at her side. She felt her cheeks flush as she laughed. "You scared me! What are you doing here?"

"I've been over there this whole time." Taylor laughed, pointing towards the rehearsal space the dancers had been entering from. Dorothea noticed she was in athletic clothes and had a very faint shine on her complexion.

Taylor stepped around her and glanced at the clipboard on the adjacent stool. "So where am I on the list? Is it almost my turn?"

"Your name is not on the list. But I suppose we can add you to the end if you'd really like some photos of yourself in your merch,"

"And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe it was you who said the other day, that you, quote: 'would love to see how vain I could be.'"

"Mm, are you sure that was me?" Dorothea raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, and I'm pretty sure it was also you who wanted to leave me to eat your weird toast with my security guard," Taylor noted.

Dorothea tilted her head. "Well, that does sound like something I would do."

A pause passed between them, but Dorothea was struggling to suppress the smile on her lips as she tried to focus on adjusting the camera. She could sense the singer also smiling, though her back was to her. The air between them felt so electric it was maddening. Dorothea's fluttering heart now felt like it was bobbing up and down; as though it were a ship carried by some drunken, blissful current.

Taylor suddenly gasped, eyeing the laptop nearby. "These are sick! You took these this morning?"

Dorothea's smile turned sheepish. "Yes, that was me."

The blonde was beaming as she turned and walked toward her, stopping and putting her hand on her arm right as she was about to pass by.

"You're killing it."

———

The photoshoot wrapped up around five, but Taylor stuck around with some of the dancers and crew for a celebratory drink. Much to her delight, Dorothea had also joined the impromptu happy hour, and once again, she stuck to a sparkling water. But Taylor was thrilled to see her mingling with the dancers. It was cute to see how shy she could be around new people, the same way she'd been when they met over a month ago.

It had been a month since Dorothea Jane Madison entered her life. And she could only hope that there were going to be many more.

After about an hour of socializing, Taylor frowned as she noticed Dorothea sitting on one of the director's chairs, looking at her laptop. But she then smiled at the look of concentration on the girl's face; the pouted appearance of her pink lips against the glow of the screen. Taylor slipped out of the group she was standing in and wandered in the brunette's direction.

"Thea!" She exclaimed as she saw the girl editing one of the photos from earlier. "Stop! You just worked all day—"

"Couldn't help it." Dorothea shrugged, but then froze as Taylor gently pushed her hand to close the computer.

Taylor gave a tipsy smile. "Well, I'm glad to."

Dorothea smiled back. "Thanks. I should probably get going, anyway," she sighed, standing to put on her coat.

"Wait—" Before Taylor could stop herself, she said, "Me too. And I think it's supposed to start snowing soon. Can I interest you in a ride?"

The brunette raised a teasing eyebrow at her, keeping her gaze locked with hers as she slowly put on her coat. It felt like an eternity—though it was only seconds—and Taylor was about to repeat the question when Dorothea said, "Yes. That would be lovely."

The pair gathered their things, then said goodbye to the remaining dancers and headed towards the lobby. The black SUV was already idling at the curb, and Taylor could see big, fat snowflakes sprinkling down in the headlights. When they stepped outside, it felt like the world had been turned upsidedown, trapping them in a strangely quiet, magical snowglobe. The few inches of snow on the ground had yet to be covered in footprints, and the deserted block made it seem as though they were the only two people in that invisible glass dome.

They rode quietly next to one another as the driver made their way to Dorothea's apartment. Both of them were content with looking out their separate backseat windows, and also exhausted from the day. In the silence, though, Taylor felt her pulse find her eardrums. She liked to think she had a knack for finding just the right thing to say, but the brunette at her side left her speechless.

A few minutes later, they turned down St. Marks and rolled to a gentle stop outside of a three-story brick apartment. It was old, but Taylor thought it was beautiful how the snow iced the tops of the window frames. She pictured Dorothea hopping up the concrete steps, then disappearing through the red front door into her own private little corner of Manhattan.

And maybe, she thought, Dorothea would someday invite her to visit that mysteriously captivating place.

"Thanks so much. For today," Dorothea said, her eyes glowing in the darkness of the vehicle. "I can't tell you how much this meant to me."

"I'm so glad we could work together," Taylor replied, "and perhaps...continue to?"

Dorothea's eyes lit up. "I'd love that."

Taylor's heart thumped as she watched Dorothea turn and open the door to a confetti of blowing snow. The girl grabbed her backpack and purse, and was about to close the door behind her when Taylor suddenly cleared her dry throat. "Wait—Dorothea!"

"Yes?"

Her heart hammered. She couldn't believe what she was doing, but it was too late and she had to go with it. Taylor dropped her eyes to the vehicle floor and leaned to look where the brunette had sat. "I think there's something—Did you leave this here?—"

She came back into the car in a flash, bending to look where she was.

Then, in a second flash, Taylor's lips met hers.