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“Jamie, rock and roll doesn’t deserve you. You’re such a good fucking guy.”
I shook my head and toyed with the rim of my pint glass. “So are you.”
“So, what are you going to do? Just sit here and be miserable? Hide away? Maybe write an epic breakup album?” He waggled his brows. “I hear those are really hot right now.”
“I don’t think I could write a song about him and not break down crying on stage performing it.”
“God. You really did love him?”
Fuck, I felt like I had a hole in my chest, and my emotions were just spilling out of me. Soon I’d have nothing left.
“I wanted to. I’m telling you, Aiden. I wanted to give him everything.”
He scoffed. “It sounds like you fucking did.”
“Maybe. He’s so bloody talented. You should see him when he starts writing. This strange sense of calm settles over him, and he gets this crinkle right between his eyebrows. He’s focused on making the song as good as it can be. The man’s a genius songwriter, like Lennon and McCartney level genius.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. It’s such a shame his band broke up. He was the heart of that band, no question, and they were pleased as punch to ride on his coattails. He won’t let himself see that, though. He was the driving force.”
Aiden frowned. “And you’re just letting them swoop back in and reclaim him?”
He was missing the point, and I was clearly doing a shit job of explaining. “No, I’m giving him what he wants. He was missing part of himself without them. He lost who he was.”
Shrugging, Aiden flagged down the server and asked for the bill. “I don’t know, man. Sounds to me like you helped him find himself again. Like maybe without you, he’s in worse shape than he was.”
“If that was the case,” I said, sighing and taking a long pull from my pint. “Why has it been a week without him contacting me?”
Aiden winced. “That is damning. But maybe he’s just a stubborn fucker like you are.”
I laughed and tossed a crouton at him, pinging him right in the chest. “Oi, watch it, you.”
“I just call ’em like I see ’em.” He leaned in closer, expression serious now. “The worst thing I ever did was not tell Angela Peters how much I loved her. I let her slip right through my fingers and into the arms of another man.”
“But you said she’s happy now.”
“Oh, she is with someone else. Married, couple of kids, living her best life.”
“You do realize you’re only making a case for doing exactly what I’m bloody doing. You gave her the life she wanted. It just wasn’t with you.”
“Shit, you’re right,” he muttered. “I think I’m really bad at this wingman thing.”
“Yeah, you are.”
We paid our bill and got up. Aiden giving me a big hug. The two of us weren’t afraid of affection. That was reserved for the toxically masculine, and I’d learned long ago that perpetuating that stereotype was only doing damage.
“Thanks, mate. Truly.”
“Whatever you decide, I’m here for you. All right, Jamie?”
“Yeah. I appreciate that.”
He looked back at me before he crossed the street. “And for what it’s worth, if I could do it over again, I’d shoot my fucking shot with her. Even if it meant me risking getting crushed.”
Somehow, that didn’t make me feel better. Because that meant I needed to do the same.
Just not quite yet.
