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“Ahh yeah?” Bobby says from the front seat.
“Mind your own, boys,” Tommo says.
“This Ella by any chance?” Finch says.
“Ella?” Bobby asks. “Ella, the girl Tom’s finally given up his hump-‘em-‘n’-dump-‘em routine for and actually taken her name?”
“Fuck off, Bobs, it’s not like I had a baby and married the first pretty girl that called me more than once, like you did,” Tom retaliates.
“Tommo, we all know Em was not the first pretty girl to call me you fucker. But she’s the last one I’ll ever call back,” he muses.
“You boys make me sick. I didn’t realise you could turn from superstar to super sad dad like you two boring bastards have in the space of a few months, so maybe we all change.”
“Hmm…” I pondered that for a minute. “So, this is the girl you said you couldn’t get enough of in Las Vegas?” I ask with a smirk. I rang Tom not long after Roman was born. So overwhelmed and emotional and I know my friend cried tears of happiness for me. He got on the first plane he could. We were home from the hospital by the time he got to us but the minute he hugged me and then grabbed Roman from Ali’s arms for a cuddle I knew we were back on track.
I notice his smirk in the mirror as he nods.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“I never thought I’d see the day, Tom West has a crush.” I whistle.
“A fucking crush. What are we twelve?” Tom spits, but I can hear the laughter bubbling in his voice.
“Twelve-year-olds probably have more game than you do,” I assure him, and Finch barks a laugh.
“Ella?” Bobby asks.
“Yes, Ella. Anyone else want to say her name today?”
“I’m sure I’ve heard you talk about an Ella before?”
“I’ve been with a lot of girls, I probably have.” he says, avoiding eye contact with anyone else in the car.
“In DC,” Finch states in his normal dry tone, “that night on tour you came to my room, Baines, and dragged me out whilst we were on tour. Tommo was holed up in his room with some chick named Ella.”
“Damn, you’ve got a good memory,” Tom notes with a caught-out smile.
“Surely not the same?” Bobs asks and Tom laughs and nods.
“Perhaps,” Tom says shyly.
“Christ, it’s not just sloppy seconds, it’s thirds or fourths or something. Never thought I’d see it. I knew she must be something special when you missed out on that festival party in Washington,” I ponder.
“If rumours are to be believed Finch was planning on ditching you for a girl that same night,” Bobby interjects my rantings.
“Errrm…” I listen to Finch hum in the back seat. “Yeah, Cassy might have already been in my room when you barged in that night and demanded we go out. It’s kind of why my memories are so good of that night,” Finch admits, face reddening slightly.
“Eurgh, I do not want to think about what you were doing with my sister. I’m glad I came over and disturbed it all now,” I say.
“Yeah. At least Finch answered the door. Unlike me with my girl,” Tom buts in again.
“Watch it. That’s my fiancé you’re talking about,” Kyle shoots at Tom. He’s joking, but sometimes he is so moody it can be hard to tell. Apart from the massive beaming smile that’s covering his cheeks. That’s a bit of a give-away. My little sister is indeed his fiancé now and when he asked her she practically pulled the big old diamond from his hands to place it on her ring finger. He’s going to make her happy—forever. The only vague argument I think I’ve ever heard them have was when they couldn’t work out how I could give Cassy away and still be Finch’s best man.
“So, how’d you do it again, Finch. Paris wasn’t it?” Bobs asks.
Finch nods.
“At the Eiffel tower with all the other loved-up schmucks?” Tom interrupts.
