“Goodnight, princess,” they say in unison.
“Goodnight, guys. Tonight was just what I needed.”
They both grin, raising their beers in a silent toast.
I head upstairs, quickly changing into my pajamas before brushing my teeth. Crawling into bed, I plug in my phone, grateful the charger cord is long enough to reach.
Lying on my back, I rest my phone on my chest, waiting—feeling ridiculously nervous, like a schoolgirl hoping her crush will call. It’s stupid.
I glance at the clock. Right on time, my phone vibrates.
Lifting it from my chest, I smile athispicture before rolling onto my side. I swipe to answer but don’t say a word.
“Hey baby, I’m so glad you answered…”hesays with a pause. I knowhe’swaiting for me to say something. I want to, but I can’t…for now. “So, I had another interview today. They asked me if I was taken, and I said yes. I thought I’d tell you in case you read the interview and don’t understand what I mean.”
My eyes widen.
What doeshemean?
“I said that because my heart belongs to you, Dee. Every inch of me belongs to you. So, I just thought I’d let you know that if you read that I’m taken, it’s because I’m taken byyou.”
I don’t know why I’m angry withhim.
I can’t be withhim, so why am I doing this to myself?
“In breaking news… Dingo broke his five-hundredth drumstick today. Not really much of a story, but he thought it must be some sort of record, and you know what he’s like when he gets an idea in his head. He had theGuinness World Recordson the phone, and they told him he had nothing, and he was, well… I’m sure you get it. I told Anna that you answered my call last night. She misses you nearly as much as I do.”
I close my eyes tightly, trying to stop the tears from forming, but it doesn’t work.Sweet, gorgeous Anna.I miss her so much. I sniff and wipe the tears on my cheeks.
“Fuck, I made you cry again, didn’t I. God, I’m such a dick. Please don’t cry. The tour is over next month, and we’re heading back to London. Maybe you and Anna can catch up. Maybe we… could…”
I hold my breath.
I don’t know why, but I feel like I could burst.
“Anyways, I don’t want to stress you out. I hope you’re doing okay. Actually, I hope you’re better than okay. I hope you’re happy and enjoying life because I can’t stand the thought of you being as unhappy as I am.”Hesniffs, andhisvoice sounds choked up.
“I’ve written some new songs. The guys love them. Seems like all my best work is about you. Can I sing you my latest one?”
He pauses, waiting—giving me the choice to hang up or stay.
I stay.
“Okay, here goes.”
Then he starts to sing, and just like that, the tension in my chest eases. I place the phone on the pillow beneath my ear, letting his voice wash over me as he plays through his new songs. The lyrics are beautiful, each one laced with emotion. One song even brings me to tears, and when he hears my sniffles, he shifts gears, launching into an upbeat tune about kissing in Paris.
And for the first time since I left him, I smile.
A real, genuine smile.
***
The next two months blur into a routine—moping around during the day, avoiding the front door, and falling asleep each night to the sound ofhisvoice.
Tonight is no different.
I slip into bed, plug in my phone, and settle in, the familiar weight of it resting on my chest as I wait.
