The air shifts, and he laughs gently, disarming me. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m being a twat, aren’t I? But come on—it’s a big night for both of us. The crowd loved Lilloughby. You felt it too—the spark, the magic.”
“There is nous.”
“There could be. Let’s not lose our chance over one stupid argument.”When I open my mouth to protest, he adds, “Let me make it up to you, at least. Come inside, have a drink. My treat. Please?”
His sincerity is almost enough to undo me.
Almost.
My mouth curves, but there’s no warmth in it. “Back to you threatening to steal my songs before…”
“Lil, come on. Don’t be like that.”
“You didn’t write them,” I say, low and firm. “A little arranging doesn’t make you the songwriter. The copyright stays with me.”
He laughs, a brittle sound. “You’re overreacting, Lil. You’re throwing it away on a mood.”
The words land like shrapnel—Toby said the same thing when I broke up with him, trying to make me doubt my own mind.
“You think this is a mood?” I hate how my voice rises, and I fight to keep it from trembling. “No, Jack. This is clarity.”
This time, I march straight to the car without stopping.
He shouts after me, his threatening words echoing through the courtyard, turning heads. “Hey, tell your lawyer sister I saidhi! And ask her whatprima facie authorshipmeans!”
I wrench the passenger door open, slide inside, and slam it hard.
Dread curls through me.
I know what it means.
He can prove my songs are his.
33
Breaking Point
Lily-Anne
Ellenor leaves the engine running but doesn’t move.
“What the hell was that about?”
I yank the seatbelt, but it jams. “Prima…facie…authorship,” I grunt, jerking it harder. “It means—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know my Latin. But why’s he asking you about it?”
“If you stop interrupting me, I’ll tell you!” The belt finally clicks in, and I slump back, breath ragged.
A pause. “You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Just drive.”
As the café lights disappear from the side mirror, I finally exhale.
