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‘You’re mad,’ Molly muttered, wrapping her arms tighter around her neck as the crowd kept cheering in the dark. ‘Now, help me up before the security guards arrest me.’

Thirty-Seven

The seven-hundred-quid room at the Malmaison came with a king-size bed and, crucial to Ashley’s current mood, didn’t smell of industrial bleach or Dave’s vape juice.

Ashley hadn’t stayed in a hotel room all tour; she preferred hiding in the narrow coffin of her bus bunk. It was cramped, but behind that drawn curtain, she didn’t have to face the public or pretend to be on for eager fans.

But tonight, she was breaking routine. For Molly.

She stood by the bed, watching Molly lock the door behind them. The click of the bolt sounded incredibly loud in the silence. The adrenaline from the arena floor was draining out of them now, leaving a weird, jittery sort of tension in its place.

Molly turned but didn’t look at Ashley. She was staring at the large king-sized bed like it was a bomb that might go off if she sat down wrong.

‘You look like you’re about to be questioned by the police,’ Ashley said quietly.

‘I’m just processing,’ Molly muttered, finally unbuttoning her jacket and throwing it over the armchair. ‘Going over a crowd barrier at thirty is a lot for the lower back.’

Ashley let out a short, dry laugh, walking over to the mini-fridge. She pulled out two bottles of water, twisted the cap off one, and handed it over. ‘Thanks for coming back.’

Molly took the bottle, her fingers brushing Ashley’s. Neither of them pulled away this time. ‘I had to. My agent told me to.’

‘What?’ Ashley asked, confused.

‘She told me I had to have a real conversation with you.’ She shrugged and looked down. ‘You’re not the only coward.’

They sat down on the edge of the mattress, leaving a deliberate six inches of white duvet between them.

‘I want to explain about five years ago,’ Ashley said quietly, staring at her own knees. ‘When the tour got extended… I wasn’t sure at all. But it wasn’t a question. They assumed I’d do it. And I thought I was supposed to be grateful. All that talk of an album… But my first thought was you. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to come home. I wanted to be with you.’

Molly let out a slow, heavy breath, her shoulders dropping. ‘I thought you were just bored of me. You were getting everything you wanted, and I didn’t see how I could compete. And then I… said what I said. And you just looked at me like you were freaked out.’

‘I wanted to say it back. I’ve never understood why I couldn’t,’ Ashley said, turning her head to look at her.

But she wanted to give her more. She wanted to dig deep for Molly. ‘No, I do. I think I do know.’

Molly waited a little nervously.

Ashley smiled sadly. ‘I thought if I didn’t talk about how deep it felt, it wouldn’t hurt as much when it inevitably fell apart. I didn’t think it could last, that I could hang onto you. I was trying to protect myself.’

‘Yeah. Well. Look how well that turned out,’ Molly said, her mouth twisting into that familiar, dry line. But her eyes were soft. ‘We wasted five years being brilliant at protecting ourselves.’

Ashley reached out, her thumb tracing the line of Molly’s jaw, wiping away a tiny smear of black eyeliner that had smudged during the crowd-surf.

‘We’re in the same spot, you know,’ Ashley said, her voice dropping lower. ‘Career-wise. Nothing’s actually changed. I’ve still got the European leg to do. Three months of back-to-back arenas. And you’ve got that audition tomorrow morning.’

‘The audition I’m currently not ready for,’ Molly noted.

‘You’re going to get it. I know you are,’ Ashley said, a small grin breaking through her serious face. ‘But when you get it, you’ll be locked in a studio in London while I’m away. It’s the same split.’

Molly didn’t look away. She closed the six-inch gap between them, reaching out to wrap her hand around Ashley’s wrist, her grip firm and warm. ‘Then we do it properly this time. If it’s miserable and hard, we say it’s miserable and hard. We get the early flights to each other when we can. We don’t do the silent treatment because we’re scared the other person is moving on.’

‘We can promise that?’ Ashley asked.

‘I think we can.’

Ashley leaned in and kissed Molly.

It was slow at first, heavy with five years of built-up ache. Molly gave a soft sigh against Ashley’s lips as her fingers slid up from Ashley’s wrist, tangling into her hair and pulling her closer.