‘Hello, Miss Martin,’ Kareem smiles in the interior mirror. ‘Are you both going back to your house?’
‘Yes, that’s fine. I can get out and get the bus from there,’ Luc replies politely.
I shake my head. ‘Kareem will take you home.’ I rest my head on the window and close my eyes, a throbbing in my head I hadn’t noticed now intensifying.
‘If you’re sure, sir,’ Luc says, giving Kareem his full address.
I open my eyes. ‘How’s the baby?’
‘She is absolutely gorgeous. Perfect,’ Kareem beams. ‘Patrick and I are completely in love.’
‘With each other, or her?’ I smile.
‘Both!’
Dennis climbs in the front seat. He doesn’t live too far away from me – a requirement of his job. The car starts and the vibrations under my seat soothe my racing heart.
‘Did you know this is my fourteenth year doing this?’ I ask.
Luc leans back, studying me in a way that makes my stomach plummet into my knees. ‘Do you think you’ll make music for a fifteenth year?’
I sigh, exhaling a breath from deep in my chest. ‘I can’t imagine myself doing anything else…’ I trail off. ‘But I don’t know. It all feels different this time. The fact I can’t recover from this bloody cold, the reaction online…’ I pause for a few seconds. ‘I’m definitely not getting any younger.’
‘What reaction?’ Luc asks gently.
We’re sitting as far away as we can get in the back of this car. It’s nothing like before, in our early twenties, when we would steal little touches. A brush of an arm here, a knee pressed against a leg there.
‘I did a bad thing,’ I admit, and the words swirl in my mouth, the guilt sour. ‘I kissed Jonny in a club a few days ago and everyone is fuming about it because of the kiss with Benji last month. Everyone thought I was out to wreck his marriage because,of course, he hadn’t announced that he and Caro are separated. Our lives are so fucking weird,’ I breathe. ‘People were saying that I always just take what I want rather than thinking about the consequences because there never are consequences for someone like me.’ The words all tumble out in a jumbled mound of word spaghetti. ‘Benji doesn’t seem to have the same treatment, obviously. As a man.’ I pause. ‘No offence.’
‘Didn’t everyone know that he’s… separated? They haven’t been together for, what, five years?’
‘They reconciled.’ It’s so stupid I almost laugh. ‘But the break-up is for real this time. They didn’t want to tell anyoneabout it because of how everyone reacted five years ago.’ I shake my head. ‘But it’s Benji and Caro. Everyone’s hoping they’ll get back together still, even though they’ve broken up, what, three times. And I’ve ruined this image for everyone that they’re destined to be together. Apparently.’
‘You put far too much pressure on yourself.’ Luc’s eyes trace faint lines over my face. ‘Sienna Martin, youaremusic.’
My heart squeezes like it’s clenched in his fist. How can he still do that?
‘Singing and writing songs is all I know how to do.’ I inhale a deep, shaking breath. ‘Which is scary, considering we’re likely coming to the end of my career.’
Luc frowns, and the look on his face sends a heat rolling down my spine. ‘What?’
‘Women in the spotlight are only tolerated for so long.’ I wipe my clammy hands on the YSL with as much subtlety as I can muster. ‘And, if I get a cold like that on tour, I’m done for. I still can’t sing, and it’s been nearly a month. Being thirty sucks.’
Luc reaches out and puts his hand over mine and my heart responds by slowing down to a steady beat. My mouth goes dry.
‘I think you can keep going for as long as you want to keep going,’ Luc smiles. He looks at the back of Kareem’s head.
I’ve worked so hard for my career and taking any time off now would put the nail in my coffin. They’ll forget about me. My heart thumps against my ribcage with so much force Luc must be able to hear it. I don’t think I’m ready to quit. What else would I do?
‘Do I want to keep going when the reviews turn sour, and no one is buying my music anymore?’ It comes out in one long breath, and I have to cough to even everything out afterwards.
‘You’re Sienna Martin.’
I stare at our hands, wanting to swipe away the sheen of sweat gathering in my palm, but not wanting to pull away at the same time. Maybe I should be more concerned with how holding hands with my ex doesn’t faze me. I remember Rose, how I felt when I heard that he’d moved on, the crushing devastation in the pit of my stomach when I heard about the engagement. I force my hand out from under his and stare at it like it’s been on a faraway journey.
‘Was writing always your dream?’ I ask.
‘Not really, I just kind of fell into it,’ he replies vaguely, gaze fixed somewhere on the buildings flashing through the windows.
