“You were promised no such thing,” I say coolly, my fingers interlaced as I lean back in my chair.
“But youdidpromise!” Rupert insists. “I remember it clearly. It was only a few weeks ago, wasn’t it, Barb?”
“Indeed, it was.”
“Ha. You see, Brandon? Don’t try to wriggle your way out of this one. Time hasn’t erased my memory!”
“But selective memory clearly has,” I say dryly.
“Pish posh. Enough excuses. Lily doesn’t mind—do you, Lily?”
She shakes her head obligingly, and so it is that the two of us are wrangled into fetching our guitars. The party moves to the living room, where the air feels thicker, stuffier than it was outside. Everyone’s gathered—Rupert with his wine, Barbara glowing with pride, Ellenor lounging like a benevolent queen, and Jack leaning against the mantelpiece, watching us with that smug smile.
“So, what’ll it be?” I ask Lily-Anne.
Her cheeks are flushed from the warmth of the room as she leans close to whisper to me. “How aboutSweet Caroline?”
A slow smile forms on my face, easing something tight in my chest. “A real crowd-pleaser.”
“Yes, I thought so.”
As she strums experimentally, testing the sound, the sleeve of her red dress brushes my arm, sending heat coursing through me. Every fibre of my being is aware of her, from the rise and fall of her breath to the tilt of her head as she tunes a string.
It makes me light-headed and proud all at once to see her like this, facing a room full of people, ready to play impromptu. It’s an easy song, yes, but the technicalities were never where her struggles lay.
“Do you remember the words?” Lily-Anne asks me.
I arch a brow.“Bah bah bah?”
She snorts. “That will do.”
Another smile tugs at my lips, and as I strum the first chords, Lily-Anne joins in, her fingers picking out the melody with delicate precision. We begin to sing, and for a moment, I forget there’s anyone else here.
There’s just her, the music, and the simple pleasure of playing beside someone who makes me feel alive. The others join in on the chorus, my mood lifted by their joyfulbah-bah-bahs, no one louder than Ellenor, her voice cutting through with cheerful abandon.
My joy is short-lived. Whilst the song leaves the others laughing, Jack wears a very different smile as he pushes himself off the mantelpiece.
“Wow, Brandon. Haven’t seen you do a duet since Nova.”
The words hit like a brick to the ribs. Silence falls so complete you could hear a pin drop on Barbara’s extra-plush carpets. Lily-Anne gives Jack a nervous glance, her fingers tightening around her glass. Ellenor, beside her, freezes mid-sip, the wine hovering just shy of her lips. Even Rupert and Barbara, who usually fill any silence, sit rapt.
Jack laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I just meant…she was special, you know? To both of us.” He glances my way as though seeking brotherhood.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.
“Wait, is this Nova, the singer?” Ellenor asks.
“Yep. She was quite the personality—life isn’t the same with her gone.” He presses on, forcing a chuckle that doesn’t quite land. “It was a terrible day when we lost her. For both Brandon and me.”
“She died from an overdose, didn’t she?” Ellenor prompts.
Jack’s face softens, seizing the chance to redirect. “Yes,” he says solemnly. “Sleeping pills. I called the ambulance, but it was too late.” He bows his head, the picture of tragic grace. “I was with her until the very end.”
My ears roar, my knuckles tightening around the guitar neck until the wood creaks.
“Do you see it yet?” Nova’s voice hisses through the noise.
My mind races.
