“Much better.” I half smile. But in truth, packing Scott’s things away is playing on my mind. I don’t want to put them in a box or storage crate. It’s like I’m moving on without him. We will never make another plan together. He will nevertease me about my non-existent painting skills. No more touching. No more holding. No more kisses. I miss him so much; it hurts like nothing else and I’m still not ready to let go.
“Are you sure?” Ash asks with a furrowed brow.
I shake myself out of my thoughts. “I’m trying not to think about him too much, otherwise I’ll disintegrate into a heap. I’m better off if I keep busy.”
“Hey, I miss him too.” Ash steeples his hands together and closes his eyes as if praying.
“Oh, God. Please don’t make me cry.” Tears well in my eyes. And I thought I was getting better at hiding this.
“Shit. Sorry, Angie. His arm goes around me again. “You know, this will hurt less and less as time goes on. It's early days.”
I doubt it will ever stop hurting. “Yeah, I know, and thank you.”
Ash nods in an ‘Okay’ kind of way as his phone rings in his pocket. “Excuse me a sec, ladies,” he says, then answers the call.
“Hey, man. I was wondering what happened to you since you didn’t stay here last night. Where are you?”
Calla and I sit at the desk and search local estate agents, but I’m half listening to Ash’s phone call, and I guess Calla is too.
“What the hell? What are you doing there? We’ve got a meeting with the label in London on Thursday.” He pauses for the reply. “Yeah, I’m listening.” His face turns pale. “You’ve done what?” He paces the room, combing his fingers through his hair. “Dude. Tell me you’re kidding. If this is a joke, I’m not laughing.” There’s panic in his voice. “I can’t believe it. Why would you do something like that? Jesus, Tommy. This is insane.”
Calla glances my way, her eyes wide. Now I’m even more intrigued.
“I need a little time to digest this. I don’t know what else to say.” Ash looks up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Talk soon.” He ends the call. “Fuck,” he says to himself while he hammers his fist against the wall.
“What’s wrong?” Calla questions while Ash drops to the cream sofa by the window.
“You won’t believe it.”
“Look, if this is private, I can leave,” I say to them both.
“No, it’s fine,” Ash says, sitting forward. “We’re all family, and you’ll find out soon enough anyway. You may as well hear it from me.”
“Jesus, what is it?” Calla asks.
Ash runs a hand down his face. “It’s Tommy. He took a plane to Vegas yesterday.” He blows out an exasperated breath. “He got married last night.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
TOMMY
SIX YEARS LATER
Brett strumsthe first few chords of our songDeep Downon his guitar, while Ash singles out his wife from the crowd below. He bows his head towards her to signal we’re one song away from the end of the show. It’s time for Calla and the rest of the girls to go backstage.
From my elevated position behind the drums, I see them making their way to the exit, and I remember a time when Chelsea would join them. Not so much anymore. Tonight, she’s not even looking my way, so I guess she has other plans. I don’t know why she bothers to turn up at all.
As the song ends, our instruments mix into our next number,Honesty.It’s a song we never miss from our set list. The bass and drums are hard going on this one. Max and I give it everything we have.
Brett struts around the stage as if he owns the place, lapping up the attention from women at every angle while showing the guys what a kick-arse guitarist he is. His soloduring this song is off the charts, but despite all that, just one man steals this show. Ash is belting it out with every breath he owns and none of us can compete with his stratospheric level of cool. When he demands the lights go up, well, they go up.
“I wanna see your faces while you sing,” he says to the crowd, and every single person in the twenty-thousand-plus arena gives him what he wants. They lift the roof off this iconic building during the final chorus. I feel like a king as I listen to their voices singing our words.
When the final chord plays, Ash holds his last note for our undying fans and their appreciation is deafening.
“Thank you, Madison Square Garden. We’ve been Koolum Law, and we bid you goodnight!”
We run to the front of the stage, soak in every second of their applause, and take a collective bow. Part of me doesn’t want to go, but that was our second encore and it’s better to leave the crowd wanting more.
