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“You can have my sofa,” Izzy says.
“Or crash at ours,” Florence offers.
Toni looks like the idea of anyone’s charity physically pains her. She’s about to reply when Juno appears from the trailer. Glancing between them, she asks, “Is everything all right?”
“We’re fine,” Toni says. It would probably sound more convincing if she didn’t look completely dead inside. “It’s just personal stuff. I’m looking for a flat to move into after the tour.”
“Oh?” Juno sinks down onto the free spot next to Miray. “Are you leaving London?”
“No. I just—”
“Her ex-girlfriend is kicking her out,” Izzy cuts in.
If looks could kill, Izzy would drop dead on the spot. Instead she only jumps slightly at the audible stomp of Toni’s foot coming down on her boot under the table.
“Like I said,” Toni says. “Personal stuff.”
Juno considers her, a thoughtful furrow between her brows. “When do you need to move out by?”
“In three weeks,” Toni says reluctantly.
“Three weeks,” Juno echoes. “That’s not a lot of time.”
“It’s fine,” says Toni, who is very obviously not fine. “I’m sure I can crash at a friend’s place until I find something. The others have already offered.”
“Or . . .” Juno begins. Luca can almost see the wheels behind her eyes turning. “I have a spare room. It’s nothing grand, but it does have its own bathroom.”
Toni looks at Juno like she isn’t sure she heard her correctly. Luca isn’t entirely certain herself. The idea that her audio processing has somehow gone faulty seems worlds more likely than the idea that Juno Wilde, three-time Grammy winner and world-famous singer, just offered Toni a room at her place.
“Sorry,” Toni manages faintly. “W-what?”
“I own a home in Hampstead,” Juno explains. “You’d be more than welcome to move in until you’ve gotten your bearings, if you think you can endure paparazzi and sharing a space with an occasionally moody teenager.”
For the first time since Luca has known her, Toni looks at a loss for words. “Your daughter would be fine with that?”
“I’m going to ask her, of course,” Juno says, “but you wouldn’t be the first person to live in the guest room for a while. I’ve had a bunch of collaborators and friends stay over while they’re in the city. It feels wrong to have so much living space and do nothing with it.”
“Can I . . . is it all right if I think about it?”
“Of course.” Smiling, Juno gets to her feet. “We still have the rest of the tour to get through. You just let me know when you’ve decided.”
With that, she disappears behind the trailer to find Amy.
“Oh my God,” Florence says the minute she’s gone. “I can’t believe—”
“She’s like a fairy godmother,” Miray whispers.
“Come on, mate,” Izzy says. “You’ve got to say yes.”
Toni is still staring at the spot where Juno sat a few seconds ago, her mouth slack and her expression dazed.
“Toni?” Luca questions.
“I’m fine,” she says automatically.
“Yeah, you are,” Florence laughs. “You just got upgraded to a fancy celebrity home in Hampstead.”
Toni looks like she’s on the verge of a full internal meltdown, but with only twenty minutes to go until their set, there’s no time to spiral. Their preshow rituals are the same as they’ve been all tour: Miray does Florence’s hair, Izzy does Luca’s makeup, Toni checks again and again that her guitar is tuned.
