‘But?’
‘I know I have feelings for you.’ Her gaze was unwavering as she looked into his eyes. ‘That’s not the problem. The problem is: how do we know it’s something real? Could I really just up and leave this life? Walk away from everything I’ve built, everything I’ve known, and start again…’ Her voice trailed off, the answer to the question scaring her even more than the thought.
Daniel didn’t rush to fill the silence. He just reached out, his hand brushing over hers.
‘It’s scary because it matters,’ he said simply. ‘I’m not asking you to decide now. I’m not asking you to change your life overnight. I just wanted you to know how I felt. That you aren’t like anyone I’ve met before. I can’t deny that tonight hurt. I didn’t like seeing you kiss someone else… I was jealous.’
‘I’m sorry again. I promise you that that part of my life is over. But life is never that simple, is it?’
‘It’s not.’ He smiled, brushing his thumb against her knuckles. ‘But it could be simple.’
For the first time in a long time, the idea of simple didn’t sound boring to Fern. ‘One day at a time?’ she said.
Daniel nodded. ‘One day at a time.’
ChapterThirty
Fern woke up in her own bed, her head nestled against the curve of Daniel’s shoulder, his arm slung lazily around her waist. For a blissful moment, she didn’t move. The usual city sounds of car horns, the distant hum of life in London drifted in from the window, and for once it all felt peaceful. Last night they had climbed into bed after their heart-to-heart and cuddled each other until they fell asleep.
Daniel stirred beside her and murmured, ‘You know what’s weird? Waking up and not seeing a moose hanging over our heads.’
Fern laughed.
‘You London types are all about minimalist chic.’
She lifted her head and gave him a mock serious look. ‘I’ll have you know, I’ve got plenty of quirks. I’m very partial to a velvet throw pillow, and I have a Leonard, don’t forget…’
‘Ah, the plant fighting for survival,’ Daniel teased, propping himself up on one elbow.
They lay there a little longer, the sheets tangled around their legs, neither in a rush to move. London might have been awake and buzzing, but inside her apartment, time slowed down, cocooning them in the soft bubble of morning-after happiness.
‘So,’ Daniel said after a while, his fingers tracing idle circles on her bare shoulder, ‘what does a big-shot music journalist actually do with her weekends? When she’s not busy interviewing superstars and breaking hearts, that is.’
Fern tilted her head thoughtfully. ‘You’re assuming I don’t spend every Saturday in the British Museum.’
‘You don’t?’
‘More often it’s brunch. Too much coffee. A painfully overpriced pastry. Wandering around markets pretending I’m cultured when I’m really just buying cheese. Or the odd rooftop bar with Ella.’
He smiled, brushing his lips softly against her temple. ‘You make it sound like it’s all so perfect.’
‘Then there’s the housework.’
‘Which must take all of ten minutes…’ teased Daniel.
She turned onto her side to face him properly. ‘Most weekends are spent wishing I had someone to share it with– the real stuff, the boring stuff. Coffee?’ she asked, and he nodded. ‘I’ll be back in five.’
After handing a mug to Daniel she slipped back under the covers. ‘I suppose we must try and get up soon,’ she said, taking a sip of her own coffee. She reached for her phone, which had been charging on the nightstand, and the screen lit up with a scatter of notifications, including the inevitable slew of messages from Ella.
Ella
You missed the BEST after-party!
Jax was in prime form. You should’ve seen it. The whole band partied hard!
Attached was a photo of Ella, glowing with her signature after-party sparkle, standing sandwiched between the band members. Jax’s arm hung casually around her waist, fingers resting far too comfortably on her hip.
For a flicker of a second, she wondered if Ella had slept with him. Before she could dwell on it, her phone buzzed again with a text from a number she didn’t recognise.
