It's drizzling. Possibly the greatest indication that Taylor's back in London. The crisp Parisian mornings have been traded for gray skies and miles of fog. Taylor and Adam flew back first class courtesy of Adam's company after he begged them to give Taylor a ticket.
They're picking at the remnants of their buckwheat crepes breakfast, both of them still feeling sluggish from their travels. "Wanna go for a hike when it clears up?" Taylor asks drowsily, twirling her fork.
Adam sets down his cup of black coffee dramatically. It hits the kitchen table with an audible thud. "Are you kidding?" he grouses. "We just got home yesterday. I need to catch up on rest before Dubai."
"Dubai?"
"Oh yeah, my performance review was so great that they put me in charge of the Dubai conference next weekend," Adam answers nonchalantly. He takes another nip of his coffee as if he's just shared the most casual piece of information.
Taylor may as well have been slapped across the face. Her cheeks feel hot and her stomach is churning all of a sudden. It hurts like hell to think that her boyfriend of two years doesn't even think to give her these kinds of life updates. They live together for fuck's sake.
Taylor can't even look at him right now. She doesn't want to be in the same room as him, breathing in all of this filthy air. She doesn't want to fight either. She doesn't have the energy for a screaming match and the subsequent forgiveness sex that would inevitably follow.
Taylor grabs her purse and earbuds off of one of the end tables and marches out the door. She doesn't even bother saying anything. She doesn't need to really, by now Adam has probably picked up on her habit of retreating to the grocery store when things get heated.
Taylor's in the produce aisle, "I Hate Everything About You" blasting through her earbuds, when she feels a hand graze her shoulder. She jumps but relaxes when she realizes it's only Joe and not some Tesco perv.
"Oh my god," she exclaims. "Long time no see!"
They hug and Taylor's relieved that it's not awkward at all. In fact, it's quite comforting having her torso pressed against his, breathing in his familiar scent.
"Ah I see you're listening to the ultimate rage anthem," Joe remarks. "Three Days Grace, eh?"
There's a pause and then without thinking Joe blurts out, "Does Adam support you?"
Taylor feels herself get whiplash. The temperature in the produce section must drop ten degrees. "I- of course he does," she stutters, gripping the shopping basket for dear life.
Joe doesn't wait for Taylor to catch her breath just continues, his heart pounding, "You're so incredible, Taylor, and you just deserve the world....I don't know maybe I'm overstepping but after spending a few days with you and Adam I get the sense that your happiness is not at the top of his priorities list."
Taylor is flaming. She feels her eyebrow start to twitch and her jaw start to clench. She can't get over the nerve of Joe. Making all of these baseless accusations about her relationship, about her partner!
"No offense, but who the fuck do you think you are?" she spats. "Like I'm sorry, I get that you're trying to be a good friend or whatever but the last person that should be dishing out relationship advice is fucking "Panty Dropper Joe Alwyn". You haven't had a serious relationship in years, you dickhead. Let's not act like you give a single shit about priorities and boundaries because all you can handle is casual hookups. I appreciate the concern but for the record, Adam does support me!"
Joe watches her eyes glaze over and frowns. "What about London then, eh?" he retorts. "Why did you move there? You left your entire family and all your friends behind. Hell, even Adam had a whole life in Nashville that he up and ran from. I get that a relationship is about sacrifice, but it goes both ways. I'm worried that you're sacrificing too much, Taylor."
Taylor takes one look at the indigo eyes beating back at her and almost feels her heart collapse. She drops the stupid banana she's been holding and bolts out the sliding glass doors.
Of course, just Taylor's luck, she forgets she's still holding a basket full of unpaid items. The alarms immediately start blaring and two security guards hurl themselves at Taylor's feet.
"Ma'am stop right there!"
Taylor freezes in the middle of the parking lot, hears cars start to honk, frustrated by the minor traffic jam she's causing. Taylor doesn't even register the horns or the eyes staring her down. The voices ringing in her ears drown out all of the commotion.
"You can't just walk out of the store without paying," the older security guard shouts. He grabs Taylor by her sleeve and drags her back into the store.
It's only now that Taylor realizes that she has hot tears cascading down her face. What her mother coined as her body's fire extinguisher.
"I know that," Taylor replies shakily, her blood still boiling from her recent encounter in Aisle #13. She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out her credit card with trembling hands. "I just forgot."
The security guards exchange a look that Taylor can't decipher, but she's certain that she looks like a crazed woman with her unruly bangs and smeared mascara. Hell, heavy metal music is still blaring out of the earbuds dangling from her neck. Not her finest moment for sure.
"Just bring your card up to the register," the ginger grouses. "Our manager will be there shortly to meet with you."
***
"I will never grocery shop at Tesco again!" Taylor heaves, slamming the front door as she enters the living room. The last forty-five minutes have been absolute hell.
"Mkay," Adam mumbles, not even bothering to look up from his phone.
"Aren't you going to ask why?" Taylor rasps.
Adam sighs heavily. "Fine, why, my love?"
"They accused me of shoplifting, that's why!"
"Why would they accuse you of that?" Adam gasps. Now Taylor has his full attention.
"I just ran out the door without paying and all of these guys were on my ass," she explains.
"Taylor, why the fuck would you do that? Jesus," Adam spits.
Taylor just shakes her head and massages her temple. She's still gripping her keys tightly, hasn't even stepped out of the entryway. "I don't know, I just had to get out of there."
Maybe it's the adrenaline that has yet to leave her system or maybe it's the way that the modern art lining the walls and WSJ magazines stacked on the coffee table fail to calm her nerves the way a home should- but whatever the reason, Taylor adds fervently, "I have to get out of here too."
***
Taylor's staying at the Corbigoe Hotel, which according to Trivago was named one of the cheapest hotels in London.
She should really be getting her own place by now. It's been two weeks after all. But finding affordable housing in London is easier said than done. For now, she'll have to stick out the Cup O' Noodle dinners and scratchy hotel sheets for a little while longer.
She's sipping her crappy cup of instant coffee in the lobby, glancing up at the flickering chandelier when it hits her. For the first time in months, she knows exactly where she's supposed to be.
***
Taylor shifts uncomfortably on the front stoop, suddenly feeling the unfortunate side effects of her impulsivity. Should she be doing this? Does she even have the right to be banging on his door after everything that's happened?
Before she has the chance to chicken out, the door swings open.
"I need to use your piano," Taylor says breathlessly.
Joe just stands there in his dirtied Nikes, his mouth slightly agape, clutching his Leica camera. His hair is plated wildly atop the crown of his head, but somehow he manages to pull it off. He's got his backpack on like he was about to leave, but he motions for Taylor to come inside.
"It's always been all yours," he smiles.
Taylor smiles back at him and it's then that he can see how much she's been struggling since he last saw her. Her hair is sticking up in every which way and the skin underneath her eyes is gray and papery.
"I have to go take some pictures of Union Chapel," Joe explains. "But you take all the time you need."
Taylor nods and slides onto the piano bench. It's a 1933 Baldwin Baby Grand, a gem that Joe supposedly picked up at an estate sale for only €300 a couple of years back. Running her hands over the decades-old keys, Taylor struggles to come up with an answer as to why it's taken her this long to touch this piano.
Propped up on the lid are about a dozen photos in frames. Photos that Joe's taken. Photos of his dog Flint munching on an ice cream cone, photos of his kid brother Patrick at his first birthday party, photos of his friends from Uni dressed up as lions. His favorite photos of his favorite people in frames. Taylor smiles at the pictures, almost feels energized by the happiness radiating from them.
She presses down on a C chord and lets everything she's been feeling so intensely flow into the keys.
***
Joe comes back from his bike ride to Islington not even two hours later and finds Taylor sitting patiently at the piano, a fully completed song scrawled out on a paper napkin.
"How was shooting?" she asks cheerfully.
Joe grins at the smile plastered on her face and shrugs off his backpack. "Good. How was everything here?"
Taylor bites her upper lip. "I finished this. And I want you to hear," she says shyly.
Joe moves closer to the piano bench and gives her an encouraging nod.
Taylor takes a deep breath in and lets it all out. "Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts/Flashbacks waking me up/I get drunk, but it's not enough/'Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby/I look through the windows of this love/Even though we boarded them up/Chandelier's still flickering here/'Cause I can't pretend it's ok when it's not/It's death by a thousand cuts..."
Joe starts to get teary as Taylor plays the final G chord. Watching her face light up with emotion and her fingers hammer the keys...it's everything. Everything he's ever wanted for her.
"I'm really proud of you," he effuses, his chin wobbling. Then more softly he adds, "I take it you ended things with Adam?"
Taylor nods and lets out a sigh in exasperation. "I realized that he never pushed me to be the best version of myself. I let my life get...stagnant with him."
"Well you deserve someone that lets you spread your wings," Joe exhales.
Taylor almost lets herself get choked up by Joe's words, but stops the tears from falling with a swift bite of the lip. "Do you have alcohol?" she asks abruptly.
Joe chuckles. "Have you met me?" he retorts sarcastically. He leads Taylor over to the liquor cabinet and she plucks a bottle of Aviation gin that she practically downs.
***
"I can't believe you've got fabric softener!" Taylor squeaks. She's sitting on top of Joe's washer dryer, laughing mechanically, a bottle of Downy in one hand and a bottle of Tito's in the other.
"It keeps my clothes soft," Joe says sheepishly.
"Oh you mean your collection of white and gray t-shirts," Taylor teases. She's slurring her words as she says this, the gin and vodka finally catching up to her. Joe's drunk too. He can feel it. His insides are warm and he's got that stupid goofy grin smeared across his face.
"I'll have you know that this gray t-shirt is the greatest shirt that's ever lived," Joe boasts, taking extreme pride in his €18 undershirt in his inebriated state.
Taylor throws her head back in laughter. "Oh yeah?" she taunts. "Lemme try it on."
Joe looks at Taylor quizzically, a smug look on his face. "If you say so," he chuckles, peeling off his shirt.
Taylor sucks in her breath at the toned torso before her. Joe's thin frame was hiding an impressive set of abs. He blushes and Taylor's quick to avert his gaze. Head swimming with alcohol, she yanks off her own shirt, unveiling a lace bralette. Joe's eyes immediately fall on the soft breasts spilling out of the bra. Biting his cheek, he hands Taylor his gray Calvin Klein shirt.
Her hands are shaking with anticipation as she bats away the t-shirt. The air in the kitchen has shifted. They both can feel that.
"No," she says boldly. "I'll just take your word for it. I'm actually more comfortable like this."
Joe's eyelids curve into a smirk. Heart pounding with liquid courage and 369 days' worth of unrequited feelings, he reaches for her bra strap and effortlessly unclapses it. "What about this?" he asks breathlessly. "Feel even more comfortable?"
Taylor grins. God, how her insides are burning. "Mmhm," she replies. "And I bet you'd feel more comfortable without those stupid jeans on."
She sets the bottle of vodka down and reaches for his belt buckle. Joe smiles, perfectly content in just his boxers. As he fishes for the waistband of Taylor's leggings, he plants a trail of kisses all the way from her belly button to her ear.
"This alright?" he asks in between nibbles on her lobe.
"Yes, oh God, yes," Taylor pants. She feels him move lower, and start to graze her breasts. Fuck. It feels goddamn wonderful. He's sucking on her one nipple when she slides her hands down to his boxers and peels them off after a few good flicks of the wrist.
Joe's moaning now and Taylor's practically on fire. "Wait," she says in between gasps of air, "Can we? Can you? Move to the bedroom?"
Joe senses the urgency in her voice and drags her into his bedroom. He pulls a condom out of his dresser drawer and Taylor slides it on with her teeth- a trick she learned ages ago.
They're both so lost in the motions, caught up in the feelings burning through their chests that they don't have a second to process what this all means. The two of them tangled up, their legs twisted together, their breathing synchronized and heavy, Joe inside Taylor, Taylor gripping Joe, the electric sensations rippling through their bodies.
"Holy shit," Taylor pants, collapsing onto Joe's chest. "That was...that was..."
"Magical," Joe finishes, arching his back to kiss her sweaty face.
"Yeah," Taylor grins. "Magical."
***
Taylor rolls over on her side. She's under blue sheets. Blue sheets? Then it hits her. Like a truck.
She immediately takes note of the sleeping blonde beside her. Or rather the naked blonde. The blonde that's supposed to be her best friend, her book club buddy, not some one-night stand or post-break-up rebound.
"Shit," she warbles, all of the memories creeping back. "What the fuck have I done?"
All Taylor can think about is how she managed to fuck up the one good thing she had going in London. This friendship. Of course, Ryan Reynolds' gin company and her horny ass had to go ahead and ruin things.
A part of her wants to stay in this bed, under these covers, next to this warm body forever. But Taylor knows she can't do that. It doesn't fucking matter that this is the first time she's slept well in ages. It doesn't fucking matter that her quads are sore from riding Joe's cock all night. She knows what she has to do. She has to leave this bed, leave this flat, and probably this friendship too. Because she can't handle staying in Joe's life. Not after everything that just happened. Not after the places he took her. Not after she just now realized what's been there all along.
Taylor knows what Joe's like in relationships and she just can't let herself end up like one of those girls. Hoping that the strings'll someday attach only to be left heartbroken. Taylor's heart is in too deep for something casual.
She finally brings herself to roll out of bed and starts fumbling around the floor for her clothes. Tangled up in her lilac thong is a polaroid. Curious, Taylor brings the photo into the bathroom to examine it in better lighting.
It's a picture of her blowing kisses at the camera, a smile sprinkled in her eyes, a healthy blush on her cheeks. Taylor feels herself get a little emotional. Because she knows what it is. He is in love.
This time, instead of heading for the door, Taylor heads to the piano.
Joe's watching her bury herself in music from behind. He thinks she looks cute, his gray t-shirt loosely clinging to her curves, her mascara slightly smeared, her face super concentrated.
Taylor smiles shyly, finally taking note of his presence a little while later. "C'mere," she murmurs, motioning for him to come sit on the piano bench beside her. "I want you to come hear this. It's called "It's Nice to Have a Friend"."
***
Five years, eleven days, and seven hours later
Abbey Road Studios- London
"Who photographed your album cover? Because it looks amazing. I want to steal them."
"Oh, umm, my boyfriend...erm husband actually," Taylor smiles, glancing down at her wedding band. It's been almost a year, but the word "husband" still tastes foreign in her mouth.
She runs a hand over the proofs of her album cover. Joe had taken the picture of her out on a hike ages ago. Before she went and grew this massive belly.
Taylor instinctively rubs a particularly sore spot on her lower abdomen. It's unbelievable that she still has at least two to three more weeks left. She doesn't see how her bump can grow much more.
"Speak of the devil," Taylor chuckles as a blonde-haired man yielding a giant Leon bag enters the studio.
Joe grins and immediately dives for Taylor's belly. "How are my babies doing?" he coos, tracing circles on her swollen tummy.
"Baby C has been a real menace today," Taylor sighs. "Keeps bothering his sisters."
"Baby C!" Joe scolds, eliciting a laugh from his very pregnant wife. "You have to be kind to your sisters..and your mumma."
Joe stands up, so he's no longer eye-level with Taylor's belly, and wraps her in a hug. "How you doing, lovey?"
He's been worried about her, finishing up her second album whilst growing triplets.
"I'm fine," Taylor answers exasperatedly. "And I still have enough energy for book club tonight."
Joe just shakes his head, will forever be in awe of his wife's insane work ethic. Ever since she unearthed that piano, she hasn't slowed down one bit.
"Well please eat something before we go. I picked up your favorite halloumi wrap," he offers.
Taylor grins. Food has been her love language these past seven months. That and back rubs."You know, you really are my best friend," she declares in between kisses.
"Well, I'm glad," Joe smiles. "I would be a little disappointed if you felt otherwise. Especially considering that you're pregnant with whom I presume are my children."
Taylor giggles, allows herself to melt into Joe's embrace. It's exhausting work, carrying around these babies all day long. "Mmm, is that why you knocked me up?" she retorts sarcastically. "So I'd get suckered into being your best friend for life?"
Joe smirks. Oh how much he loves the woman before him. He'd do anything to get her to laugh like this forever.
"I guess you caught me," he heaves. "They don't call me Panty Dropper Joe Alwyn for nothing, you know."
Taylor rolls her eyes but continues smiling. She doesn't think she'll ever stop smiling. Not when she's busy making three new best friends with her current best friend.
"I love you," she blubbers, suddenly getting teary-eyed.
Joe chews on the corner of his lip, getting emotional as well. "I love you too," he whispers.
"And you and you and you," he adds, planting three butterfly kisses on Taylor's enormously pregnant belly.
AN: Massive shoutout to all of my incredible readers for sticking around for Part III !! I'm shocked in the best way that y'all enjoyed this silly little one shot (that wasn't really a oneshot bc it had three parts lol)!! Don't think I can extend my streak to four days, but these past three days have been fun!! Sending lots of love your way!! Sorry, this last part was a little rushed and underdeveloped btw. May revisit it later😘