It scared the shit out of me. But whatever I had to lose would be worth it.
There was a knock at the door and my heart leapt. Maybe she’d taken her stuff to another room, maybe there was a change for some reason and she’d left me to sleep in.
I answered, hoping – expecting – to see her, but it was a woman from reception.
“I’m sorry, sir, but the phone to the room has a fault on it. As Ms Slater has checked out, do you want me to cancel the treatments booked for this afternoon or do you still want to have yours.”
“I’ll still have mine. What time was it for?”
“Four-thirty.” She gave me a beaming smile. “Ms Slater asked us to pass a message on to check your phone.”
“Thanks.”
I closed the door, put my guitar down, found my phone that I didn’t want to check because I didn’t want to know what she’d sent. The hope that it would’ve been her at the door – a stupid, childish hope – had been popped. A balloon at a party no one turned up to attend.
There were five messages on the screen to be read. Wes, Amber – two from her, Jodie and then Sophie’s.
I opened Sophie’s first because I needed to know why she wasn’t here. What had I done wrong? I was out of my depth, hadn’t been here before without someone like this. My lifestyle, my total lack of seeing a healthy relationship growing up – my best example was Wes and his wife – I hadn’t got a fucking clue what I was doing and I didn’t even know if she wanted anything more than what we’d agreed.
I thought she did. Staying over, spending time together. The sex. You didn’t do what we did if you weren’t more than a hookup. And she hadn’t had a hookup in months before me.
But then, I was the poster boy for the child that couldn’t be adopted. The kid who was too much like hard work and too fucked up for anyone to take a chance on when they weren’t being paid.
Maybe that was what she’d realised.
I opened her message. Praying I was reding too much into this.
Liam, I’m sorry I’m not there when you wake up. There was an early flight – fuck knows how I’m going to get on it – and I needed some space and there was a work emergency. That sounds shit, doesn’t it? I needed some space. I’ve been married three times before. Divorced three times. I don’t want to be divorced a fourth time. I like the idea of marriage – I still do. I don’t want to have a fourth time when I say I do and I don’t mean it. And I think I might mean it this time, but I think it isn’t enough.
If I’m right, I’m not just part of your business plan anymore, am I? Somewhere along the lines real feelings got involved on both our parts. I don’t want to be the person who makes you sing sad songs and I’m fucking terrified I might cock this up.
We’ve had a fire at the spa in Mayfair. Next door had an issue with their electrics. I’m needed. Kind of.
I didn’t wake you as I need some time. I need to think. I need you to think too.
Love, Soph x
I read it twice. Three times. I didn’t respond, didn’t want to. She was afraid, something I never thought she would be.
I opened the message from Wes, back to business. It was another offer, a desperate one with a decent fee and working with a singer I liked and knew grafted. Their songwriter had let them down. There was the option to produce as well, something I’d done before on our own records. I sent him a one word response: yes.
Amber’s messages were short. Probably sent when she was drunk or high.
I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have spoken to Sophie but I didn’t want her to hurt you.
Then the second.
You’re too good for her. She doesn’t get you like I do.
I felt anger rip through me. Whatever Amber had said to Sophie when she turned up at her work that day had planted something.
I dialled her, waited for her to pick up. The call went through to voicemail and I knew she’d still be asleep, sleeping off whatever party she’d been at last night. I called again and again, until a drowsy voice answered.
“Liam, it’s so good to hear you. I didn’t think you’d speak to me again.” Her voice sounded like stained velvet.
“I don’t want to after this.”
“What? What’s happened?”
