“I think it depends where you order it from.” I sat up, pulling the covers back from both of us and noticing how Caleb’s eyes went straight to the tight vest top I was wearing. “I’ll drink that tea, call Carissa and get ready. Let’s go sofa shopping and then you can buy me lunch at Amelie’s and I can tell her how amazing that cinnamon roll was. Then we can go for a walk. What time’s high tide?”
“We’re coming up to it, so we should be okay.” He sat up as well, passing me the mug of tea. “Are you sure you’re ready to speak to Carissa?”
“Not really, but I want to get it out of the way.”
He slipped out of bed then bent down, pressing a kiss on my forehead. “I’m glad you’re here, even if you’re making me get a new sofa.”
“Let’s not explore that issue any further.” I flicked him the V’s. “But I’m glad I’m here too.”
So so glad.
Carissa wasn’t best pleased when I finally got around to calling her, post shower and another mug of tea. There was half an almond croissant digested as well, but I wasn’t counting calories or thinking about nutritional value right now. Plus, I knew I’d need the strength given Carissa was going to chew my ear.
“I agreed Charlie shouldn’t have been hounding you. He spoke to me before you, and I told him to leave you alone and go through me, but that’s always been his problem: he’s like a dog with an obnoxiously long bone.” She sighed heavily, then let a beat of silence pass.
I decided not to fill it.
“Zoey, do you have any idea what you want to do? I’m asking as someone who’s known you for years and who does care about you.” There was a note of exasperation to her tone.
“I don’t think you’ll like the answer.” Although she had been given my answer before, just maybe too softly.
“You don’t want to come back, do you?” Disappointment laced her words. “I know you keep saying that you’re not sure, but I think you know.”
“I’m not saying never, but I am saying no time soon – maybe four or five years. I’m still writing songs, but not for me to record.” I’d made a few notes when I got in last night and I’d also had a few messages of a singer I’d collaborated before. He was putting a new album together and was after some tracks.
“Is that why Zee Harbison’s manager emailed me asking about you a couple of hours ago?” She could’ve cut steak with that tone of voice.
“Word must’ve got round.” I frowned, watching Caleb pull the seat cushions off the sofa, exposing remnants of evenings and encounters, and an absurd amount of popcorn.
I definitely wasn’t sitting there again.
“The label was hoping you were just angling for more money. That’s what most people do, rather than walking away at the peak – if it is the peak. You’ve had a song go viral overnight and a video of you on stage. Haven’t you had any notifications?” She sounded resigned.
“Vida and her team look after my socials and I’ve turned my email off. The only call I’m going to answer after this is from my estate agent as she was doing a viewing of the house today. I’m open to conversations about song writing and collabs, Carissa, but that’s it. Let’s stop any messing about with the label.” I choked back a laugh as Caleb picked up a very lacy thong.
That sofa needed burning.
“That’s fine. We’ll go with that. Can we book in a call a week today? I think I’m going to be inundated when word gets around even more that you’re actively song writing for other artists.” I heard a beep in the background. Carissa was out and about and on the move, probably planning on pouncing on her next deal.
“I can do that.” That was the only commitment I could make right now because writing songs and music wasn’t going to stop.
“This exact time then next Friday. Have you arranged any viewings to buy your own house yet?” Sharpness returned to her words.
“No, because I don’t know where I’ll be living. It won’t be London.” I loved the city, but I’d lived there long enough. I wanted a view, grass, the sea. Not round the clock traffic and grey concrete.
“Consider an apartment in London then, because you’re still going to need to be here, and you hate hotels. Right, I have to go – I need to see a woman about an alligator.”
I laughed and ended the call. I knew who the alligator was – the manager at a record label that I would never work with. They were known for churning out fast fads, spitting out kids who were big for half a hot minute. Carissa detested them, for while she was in this to make money, she preferred to play the long game for everyone’s sakes.
I tucked the phone into my jeans pocket and shook my head at Caleb.
“I can’t sleep under the same roof as that sofa.” The detritus from it littered the floor. “How much money have you found?”
“About eleven quid. I’m going to donate it to the flat fumigation fund.” He looked rather nauseous. “I’ve booked cleaners and a house clearance bloke. The sofas and chairs are going, some other bits – my Friday night’s going to be spent filling bin bags.” He squished his face. “The monthly book club’s downstairs tonight. Amelie’s said to join them while I’m tossing most of this out.”
“Wasn’t this Amelie’s stuff?” It was furnished pretty much the same as it had been thirteen years ago when I first saw the flat.
“Yep. But Amelie never comes up here and it’s me who’s used it since then, so she doesn’t want anything. We might have to make do without a sofa for a week or so. Sorry.” He did look guilty in a really cute way. “And we’ll have to stay in the guest bedrooms at the inn tonight unless you want to be woken at six tomorrow by the cleaners.”
