A request.
He was there, as the possibility floated in the universe. He'd allowed her to embrace hope tentatively, held her close while she put in an offer, and they waited with bated breath.
He was there to listen to her fears that everything would fall apart, same as before, and she would be faced with disappointment. He was there through every negotiation, every false start, every hiccup.
He understood how important this was to her without explanation. She didn't have to go into a diatribe to make him comprehend that there was so much more than the act of scrawling her signature out. That it wasn't about winning or one upping anyone or even a sense of vengeance. Maybe years ago, it would have been those things, too.
Now, it was simply an overwhelming sense of relief. Everything that had gone into making these records, every ounce of determination and dedication and pain...they were hers.
Hers.
A legacy. The future. In her hands. And Travis got it. He grasped it in a way that no one else could possibly because she allowed him that glimpse into her soul. She didn't brush off her own feelings for his comfort as she had assimilated to for years. All the late-night conversations about how this was the desired outcome, conversations where he didn't tell her to try and move on; he was never dismissive. His belief in her, the unwavering belief that she would be able to do this. There wasn't a single doubt in his mind that this day would come, and he told her as much all the time.
The evening before it was going to happen, that final, fateful meeting, she'd gone still in his arms. The moonlight coming in through the blinds only illuminated half his face, but she could see his expression shift into worry and then it clicked for him.
"You're doing it, baby." His fingers drifted across the length of her arms, drawing goosebumps. "You're doing the thing and just a few hours from now, it's all yours again. Every single song. Just the way it should be."
The fear wasn't what paralyzed her this go around, and he knew it. Everything had been gone through with a fine-toothed comb and there was little chance that a minuscule detail had somehow slipped through the cracks; her team had reassured her many times, and she trusted them.
"I can't believe this is real," she allowed herself to huff into the air between them. "It's like if I fall asleep and wake back up again, it'll be some weird figment of my imagination that I came up with by wishful thinking."
There were very few people in the world who she could say exactly what was on her mind to without any sugarcoating or self-consciousness. She'd always (and still had, if she were being completely honest) held some residual anxiety of being judged, though over the years, she had become more adept at tuning it out from the ones who didn't know her. She developed a phobia of being perceived as weak to those she loved most, and her last long-term relationship had done very little to quell it.
Nearly two years down and even when she could sense it creeping back up, that little bubble of nausea accompanying being completely forthcoming, Trav stepped up. She wasn't being childish or paranoid. Reassurance was such a human thing to need, and he accepted hers, too. They had each other's backs.
At first, it was something to get used to, but over time, it was second nature. She no longer hesitated to share a thought with him or stop to think how something sounded. She was her most authentic self and once again, it reminded her of how everything has become full circle. Getting her music back at a time where she felt so utterly and completely Taylor was poetic.
"It's crazy, huh."
His thumb snaked out to hook under her chin, tilting it up so that they could lock eyes in the dim light. "This is the only possible outcome it could've been, Tay. All roads, they were leading to this. The timing of everything just had to line up. And it did. More than that, though...you fought like hell to get here."
