'Come on baby, talk to me. Please'.
Travis stared at the face of his fiancée through the phone, the tear tracks visible on her face, her eyes red and puffy. They'd been on the phone for a while, Matilda chatting away to him, before she'd toddled off and he finally got to talk to Taylor alone.
She was currently in Madrid, having just finished one show and about to play another, and he was in Nashville for Tight End U this weekend. It was the first time they'd spent a significant amount of time apart since the miscarriage - he'd been gone from her side for only 24 hours for Kelce Jam - and both of them were taking it hard, but Taylor's face just about broke his heart.
'Tay. Please just say something baby. I'm sorry I'm not with you. I wish I could just hold you right now', he whispers, water appearing unbidden in his eyes too, at the continued blank look on her face, tears now streaming down her cheeks.
'I just can't stop thinking about it, Trav. About the baby. I go on stage and pretend and it's fine and I get to forget for a while, and then I come off and I remember. I'm just really sad'.
'Have you spoken to anyone about what happened, sweetie?'
'I told dad. Because he hugged me the other day, and called me his little girl, and I cried, so I felt like I had to explain. But I don't want anyone to know, Trav. I'm not ready'.
'Okay, baby. If that's what you want. I just wish I could be with you'.
'I know you do. I wish you were here too'.
She smiles sadly at him, and he sniffles, attempting to lighten the mood, when Matilda launches herself back onto the bed, jumping on Taylor and heading for the phone.
'Daddy!', he can hear, Taylor turned towards her, both of them out of view.
'Not now, Matilda', she says sharply, before continuing. 'Mommy is talking to daddy. Go into the other room please'.
Travis' heart sinks, and he covers his eyes with his hands, taking a deep breath. He'd never heard Taylor speak to Matilda like that - never once had she really raised her voice, or spoken in such a broken tone - that it took both him and the toddler by surprise. He can hear Matilda's intake of breath, can imagine the quivering bottom lip, and then the inevitable wail that follows.
'Matilda, stop that at once', Taylor argues with her, but the strong-willed 2 year old is only more determined to see Travis. 'Daddy! Mommy mean', he can hear, and then Taylor picks up the phone from its spot abandoned on the bed.
'Here, you can talk to her', Taylor says, handing Matilda the phone, pulling herself out of bed. Travis can hear the bathroom door close, and switches his attention to his little girl, still crying.
'Hey baby girl. Mommy isn't feeling very well, she isn't cross with you'.
'Mommy crying. Mommy sad, daddy'.
The simplicity of the sentence - the no-nonsense, factual way she had phrased it - makes his heart constrict, and he is wonders how much of Taylor's broken heart Matilda had seen over the last few days when he had been gone. When he was there with them, right after it happened, he'd been careful to shield her - while they both loved her to pieces, and loved having her around, such sadness was nothing a little child should have to witness. But now with him gone, and Scott back in the US this week, it seems like all of Taylor's resolve had weakened and Matilda had been witness to it all.
'I know baby girl. Mommy is sad, but she'll be okay. You give her a hug for daddy and be a good girl, and I'll see you in two more sleeps', he gently explains to the toddler, who happily nods her head, and promptly leaves the phone abandoned on the bed. He waits a little while, hearing Matilda toddle around, but with no sign of Taylor returning, he ends the call.
