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Her smile, oh fuck, her smile. She pushed the notebook through the fence and closed her eyes as my fingertips brushed hers. I held on just a heartbeat as I took the pen from her, as long as I dared. “Who shall I sign this to?”
“Mr Bingo. Don’t ask.”
“Mr Bingo?” I repeated. She had me smiling, just a ghost, but more than I’d smiled all weekend.
“I’ve marked out a page for you, if you could sign there, too, please.” Her beautiful eyes sparkled, willing me to turn the pages. I flicked through, holding my breath as I found a note.
I was wrong. Really, really wrong.
I’m sorry, Jason.
I can handle the crappy tabloids, I can handle people talking, I can handle being the fat girl with the fit guy.
I’m sure I could even handle being a footballer’s wife.
I miss you. xx
My voice was choked. I had to cough to clear it. “You’ve nothing to apologise for.”
Tears in her beautiful eyes knocked my breath. “I made a mistake. I was scared.”
“You should have been scared,” I whispered. “It was horrible, Gemma, all of it. I’d never have put you through it if I’d have known.”
“It’s over,” she breathed. “We’re out the other side.”
But I wasn’t. I’d made an agreement with that bitch, April. Given her twelve months in exchange for a fifty-fifty split, just as long as we got another season out of the Singers, and so long as her Cherry Electric reunion tour happened. This shit could even kick-start a new album for her. How fucking sweet.
“I miss you,” I said. “I miss your laugh. I miss your smile.”
“I miss your touch,” she said. “I miss you,allof you. Everything we had. Everything we could have had.”
“What about domesticity? I thought that was a no go?”
She shot me a smile. “Never say never.”
But Ihadsaid never, I’d said never when I’d promised April another year. I was already booked in with PR, ready to get our shit sorted.
“Come to me,” she said. “Please. Tonight.”
It broke my fucking heart to say no. “I can’t. PR meeting.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I see. No problem, maybe a different night?”
I pressed my face as close to hers as I dared, scribbling any old shit in the notebook. “April wants twelve months, then she’ll split the house. I said yes. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Her expression dropped like a stone, eyes watery. “Of course, I understand. I’m sorry, I should’ve thought.”
My words were harsher than I’d intended. “You don’t understand. I’m a walking corpse, just trying to keep hold of something.”
“Keep hold ofme.”
“I wish, Gemma, how I wish.” The crowd was dispersing, time up. “I’ve got to go.”
“Me, too. I have friends waiting.”
Words wouldn’t come out, lodged in my throat like fucking bullets. “This feels so wrong.”
“It’s ok, Jason. I get it, about the house. Steve told me about your dad. I get why you need to hang on to something. I get why you need to make it. I’m sure I would, too.” Her smile didn’t meet her eyes. “Twelve months? I bet you can’t wait.”
