19. Levi
CHAPTER 19
Levi
M acclesfield, Wednesday, September 10th
‘Breaking news: it’s raining in London.’
Ah, so it was Jace’s turn to check on me. I felt a half-smile twitch around my mouth and replied, ‘Mate, talking about the weather still won’t make you a Brit.’
‘Just trying to do as the locals do.’ A few seconds passed before he followed up with, ‘Hanging in there?’
Like it hadn’t been my choice—four days of silence, three to go. But that didn’t stop me from glancing at my phone each time it lit up, just in case it was Cass breaking his promise. I wanted him to stand by it, and yet I wanted to hear from him almost as much. My thoughts a mess because what if, what if ?
Stop.
I sent Jace a thumbs-up emoji and finished packing Emily’s lunch while Alba wove around my legs, hoping for a handout in the form of cheese cubes. “Down, girl,” I told her. “This is human food. You get your own cat stuff, and it’s premium quality.”
She mewled in agreement or protest, hard to tell, pink tongue showing. Because I had the steely resolve of a floppy fish, I broke off a miniscule piece of cheddar for her. Man, if Cass could see me now, he’d—anyway.
I went to wake Emily a third time and waited until she actually trudged towards the bathroom. Upright, if not awake. An hour later, I dropped her off at school with a hug and a quick glance to make sure no paps hung around—all quiet on the Western Front. There’d been a couple hanging around the gate to the house when we got home, but with my lawyer on speed-dial and a minor affected, it had been a short-lived episode. Nothing since. Articles, yes, and online rumours that I’d chosen to ignore. And sure, some of the other parents were bound to talk, but the kids? Her best friend Lissie still traded stickers at lunch, Joey was obnoxious as ever, and Emily still told him his face had symmetry issues.
So, no—life hadn’t crumbled.
Traffic was mild on my drive to Manchester, watery sunlight breaking through a pale sky. I considered texting Jace the weather report when the radio transitioned from some cheerful pop song to one of Cass’s biggest hits. Because of course. His voice flowed like melting chocolate, slightly raspy with a hint of gravel, and I… I fucking missed him.
Three more days. If he called at all. No—he would. I’d asked for a lot, yes, but he wouldn’t just disappear into thin air. I had to believe that we were well and truly beyond that. Even if he decided he couldn’t be that person, he’d... stay in my life.
Somehow.
* * *
Macclesfield, Saturday, September 13th
I woke up sick.
Not really. But my stomach was knotted up, a queasy flutter in my bones because this, today—this was my future at a tipping point. Melodramatic? Maybe. It wasn’t like... Christ, if Cass said no, it wasn’t like my world would end. It would just be a little colder, a little less radiant.
I’m trying, Jess. I really am.
Alba nudged me for a tickle. I complied, drawing an odd sense of comfort from the way she started purring, paws kneading my chest. Cats didn’t care about tomorrow—it was all about the here and now. I could respect that.
When she moved on to perform her routine check for mice, I tried to draw some inspiration from that, to ground myself in the present rather than let my thoughts drift to how Cass would still be asleep in LA, eight hours behind. I had my own day to worry about—a swimming lesson for Emily while I’d use the time to hit the gym, then I’d drop her off with a friend and pick up groceries, and maybe we’d go see a movie later in the afternoon.
On with it.
We waved goodbye to my mum and dad before we left, then spent the car ride debating whether it would be cooler to ride a dragon or a unicorn. Emily was firmly on Team Dragon, while I maintained that unicorns were much more fabulous because they left a trail of sparkles and rainbows.
“Is that because you’re in the rainbow bugade?” Emily asked.
“The rainbow what?”
“Bugade,” she repeated, as if that answered my question. Rainbow bugade...? Oh.
“Rainbow brigade?” I asked, just to make sure, and she nodded, all that’s-what-I-said. I bit down on a smile. “Where did you hear that?”
“Just some video.” She shrugged, her attention mostly on a piece of paper she was trying to fold into some origami shape. If that was the correct term—my origami knowledge was limited to paper planes. Did those count? Anyway. Video?
I pulled to a stop at a red light and turned to properly look at her. “What kind of video?”
“I didn’t watch it,” she claimed, except for how she wouldn’t quite meet my eyes, a small crease between her brows hinting she might be stretching the truth just a little.
“Really?” I asked. “Because it’s okay if you did. But I’d like to know, okay?”
“It’s just something that—Lissie and me, we were watching this cat video. On her mum’s screen. And then this other video came up?” Emily sent me a cautious glance, and yes, true, I was no fan of screentime, but I knew all too well that ideals and reality didn’t always align. No judging other parents.
“This other video?”
“Something about you and Cass? And, like...” Emily hesitated, fingers tapping paper. “It was old stuff, I think, and, like, a lot of—I don’t know. Smiling and looking? And some stuff you said? It was boring . But the video said you were always in the rainbow bugrade, you and Cass, and how it’s totally not new. And then Lissie’s mum took the screen away.”
Hmm. Interesting what the algorithm offered up. But hey, maybe Lissie’s mum was a secret fan of Cass’s. Again, no judging, even if it was just a hint weird to think that parents of Emily’s friends might actively gobble up the rumours. On the other hand, maybe it wasn’t so different from when I’d started picking Emily up, Jessica undergoing her first unsuccessful round of treatments, and there’d been glances and whispers that I’d chosen to ignore. To gossip was human.
“Okay,” I said slowly. The light turned green, and we started moving again. “And was that... Do you have any questions for me, sweetheart? It’s fine if you do.”
She turned her paper construct over, frowning a little. “Why did they think smiling and looking is important? Is it because Cass is famous?”
“Kind of. That’s why people care what he does.” I paused. “Care who he loves.”
“Like you?” It was an innocent question, childlike curiosity, yet it tripped me up because... yeah. Yes. He did. He did .
But would it be enough?
“He does,” I told her. “And I love him, too. But his life is really different from ours.” I’d explained it to Emily in broad terms already before I’d gone to see him—that he was very sorry for breaking his promise and maybe there was a chance he and I could make up. “And that’s not easy, because if he’s my, uh... My rainbow brigade friend...” Really , brain? I pushed on regardless. “Well, I’d want to see him a lot. And that means he might have to make some changes, you know? Travel a little less, for example.”
“Can’t we travel with him?” she asked, all practical. “I like going places. I could do more surfing!”
“Not while school’s on, love. And we can’t leave Alba alone all the time.”
“Oh. Yes, that wouldn’t be fair.” Emily pursed her mouth, bottom lip sticking out a little. “So, but then Cass just has to stay with us a lot. So you can see him.”
“You wouldn’t mind that?” In a way, I’d already asked her—whether she liked Cass enough that it would be okay if he was around a bit more.
“He loves cats,” she said as if it was an answer.
“So that’s a yes, then?”
“If he doesn’t make you sad again.”
I thought about trying to explain that sometimes, life was complicated and people made you sad even when you loved them, especially when you loved them, through no fault of their own. But maybe this, right now, deserved a simple answer.
“He’ll try his very best, love.”
“Good,” she said, satisfied.
I nodded, smiled, and refused to let my thoughts drift westward, across an ocean.
* * *
Something was off.
The house was quiet, but there was a strange resonance to it—something about the air, a shift of movement on the upper floor, so subtle it only just registered on a conscious level.
I straightened slowly, right inside the door with my keys still in hand. Might be that my dad had snuck up to fix whatever he felt needed fixing, never mind that I’d rather pay a professional than see him wobbling on a ladder. But my parents were meant to be out for the afternoon.
Cass , my treacherous mind whispered. Lungs a little tight, hope tangling with fear, wishful thinking running interference that made it hard to think clearly. Cass . Could be. Or it could be a middle-of-the-day break-in.
Phone clutched in hand, I crept up the staircase. Turned left to follow the hallway, my steps silent on the outdated carpet that I kept meaning to strip away. Something shifted—a drawer closing in the kitchen. I held my breath and peered around the corner.
Cass.
God, Cass .
Backlit by pale grey light filtering through the window, he was perched on a chair as he scrolled through his phone with the faintest crease between his eyebrows. He looked a bit tired, a wrinkled white T-shirt gaping at the collar, hair messy in a way that didn’t look intentional. Breathtakingly gorgeous. But to me, he always would be.
“Pivoting from rockstar to lock-picking cat burglar?” I managed, each syllable a counterpoint to the heavy thudding of my pulse.
He jolted to attention, gaze snatching to my face. For a beat, he simply stared at me, his features cracked wide open. Sun slicing through the clouds , I thought, a little nonsensical, and if it were a line in a song, I’d have rolled my eyes. How cliché. I was a cliché, my brain on some kind of time lag, slow warmth twisting through my veins.
“Hi.” His voice was low, hushed as though the entire world was holding its breath. Cliché. “Uh, your mum let me in.”
I leaned against the doorframe to steady myself. “Right. Of course she did.”
“Is that okay?” Worry sparked in his eyes—such an open book, and Christ, this was… This was a yes. Right? Surely he wouldn’t have come all this way otherwise. Or, fuck, maybe he would have. Do the decent thing, look me in the eye, prove how much he’d grown.
“Sure, yeah. That’s fine.” I glanced away from his uncertain half-smile, everything about him just a little bit too bright, too much. A plate piled high with muffins sat on the worktop. “What’s that?” I asked even though I had eyes. But it didn’t make sense. Did it?
“Triple chocolate muffins,” Cass said quietly. “They’re Emmy’s favourite, right?”
That… well. Kind of, yeah. Except for how last week, my mum’s brownies had been her favourite, and the week before, it was pizza with extra cheese. When it came to culinary delights, my kid’s preferences changed more frequently than some people’s underwear.
“You…” I cleared my throat. “You brought muffins?”
“Baked them, too.” His smile was soft, a hint nervous—completely different from his polished, toothpaste-ad billboard grin. “Figured I’d start by impressing the most important person in your life and then work my way up from there.”
Impress Emily? Impress me ? Something about that snagged in my mind.
“You never had to impress me—you just had to stay.” I met his eyes, the weight of the past week and decade pressing between us. “So. Is this… Will you?”
“ Lee .” Cass’s voice was dipped in velvet. He stepped right into my space, trailed gentle fingertips along the curve of my bottom lip. “It was always gonna be a yes. Whatever it takes, I’m here.”
Whatever it took?
It was hard to focus, my thoughts all twisted by how this kitchen, with its old wood beams and terracotta tiles, suddenly felt small, the breath’s width of space between Cass and me too far. But, no. Whatever it takes. That wasn’t right.
“Cass.” I caught his wrist and squeezed. “Babe, that’s not how I meant it. Baking muffins—that’s not you. I don’t need you to reinvent yourself; I don’t need a houseband. I just need… I need to know this can work, and I need you here some of the time.”
“Hey, no. I know.” He was watching me with warm, calm eyes. “It’s more like a symbol, okay? Not a very good one, maybe. If it makes you feel better, it’s more Ellis who baked muffins. I tried, but in the end, I mostly just handed him things when he asked for them. And I made encouraging noises.”
Something in me tugged loose. “Weirdly, yeah—that does make me feel better. Because, Cass, just… I’m not asking you to turn yourself inside out. You know that, right?”
“Thank you.” His smile solidified. “For, you know. Making that clear.”
“I really, really mean it.”
“I know.” A beat stretched between us—my hand still clasping his wrist, his fingers light against my lip. Then he reached into his back pocket and unfolded a sheet of paper, smoothing it out before handing it to me. “Got you something.”
Locations and dates, starting next March in London. I glanced up. “A tour schedule?”
He nodded, clearly waiting for something, so I looked back at the list. UK in March, a gap, then a week in Germany, followed by… another gap. France and Belgium. And another gap. More dates and gaps, then a long break in the summer. Distantly, I caught the buzz of his phone where he’d left it on the table, a reminder that there was still a world out there. It was a foggy background, though, my mind a waterfall, lungs light and airy.
“These dates—they’re packed into short bursts.”
“Yeah.” He held my gaze. “This way, I can be here every other week. And we can look at the summer, see what we want to do with that. Some time in LA maybe? More surfing lessons for Emily, get a room set up for her in the house? Four-poster bed, glitter walls, whatever she wants to do with it.”
“You…” Words, dammit. I knew words. “You planned your tour around that?”
“Replanned.” He looked a tad sheepish. “Or rather, I asked others to replan it. Think I owe some people a very nice bonus.”
God, I love you.
“Oh, and the next few months—that’ll be mostly working on the new album.” He was close enough that I felt his warmth, eyes the radiant blue of a Sardinian summer in the woollen light of an English afternoon. “There’s a studio in Manchester I can use. We could, you know, carpool to work."
“Carpool?” A laugh bubbled up from the soles of my feet, tickled my stomach and widened my chest. “You’re just— Cass .”
“I’m just Cass?” he echoed, a hint of boyish charm shining through as he thumbed at the corner of my grin. I turned my head and kissed his fingers—cheesy as hell. I didn’t care one bit.
“You really thought about this.”
“You asked me to.” He made it sound simple, obvious, when it was anything but.
“I fucking love you,” I said—dropped the tour schedule, got both hands into his hair, and dragged him into a deep, hard kiss. He matched me, fingers framing my jaw, mouth opening under mine.
“That a yes?” he squeezed into the gap between one kiss and the next.
“A million times.” My thoughts had gone liquid, swept away by this stupid, blinding wash of emotions. This was it. Us. Rebuilt from fragments of who we’d been and become. The first time, we’d stumbled our way into something great until it folded like a house of cards. This time, we were choosing our path, eyes wide open.
His phone went off again, like a reality check, and Cass sighed against my lips. “That might be my assistant. Probably not pleased with my last-minute schedule changes.”
I exhaled a breathy laugh, kept my fingers pressed into his hair for another moment to rest our foreheads together. “Time for a raise?”
“Probably. Just give me a sec, all right?” He stole another quick kiss, then peeled himself away to deal with his phone. I picked up the sheet of paper that had drifted to the ground and gave it another look. So, Europe in spring, early summer in the US, then—huh. Hang on a sec. Those venues…
I glanced up, frowning. “Cass—these venues here, they’re smaller than your usual. Like twenty, twenty-five thousand tops?”
He slid me a quick look. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
He took a moment to respond, seemingly intent on whatever message he was typing out. I studied the line of his profile, the way his hair curled against his temple, the shift of muscle as he turned to put the phone back down before he stepped back into my space.
“It’s just, you know…” He trailed off, then picked the thread back up with an air of nonchalance I didn’t buy. “Just in case there’s less interest once people know I’m gay. I’d rather play to a smaller but full house than a half-empty arena.”
“Oh, babe .” I grabbed him around the waist. “They’d be idiots. You’re… You’re so good. I’ve said it a time or two, but you truly are a brilliant musician. I’d sign you in a heartbeat.”
The corner of his mouth edged up. “I think we’ve established that you’re biased.”
“Maybe. But I’m also a professional. Trust me, people will absolutely still want to see you once you’re out.” I shifted back enough to give him a proper look, sudden uncertainty softening my tone. “I mean—if you still want to do that.”
“I do, yeah.” No doubt shaded his voice, his gaze steady. “I don’t want to hide this—us. But if you’d rather keep the attention off Emily, I can wait. I’d rather not, but if that’s what you want…”
I exhaled, light as a soap bubble that fractured sunlight into a rainbow hue of colours. “I don’t, no. I don’t want to wait. So—we’re doing this?”
His smile could have ended wars. “Yeah, we are.”
“Good.” Terribly inadequate, my mind clutching this moment like a shining pearl. Cass was here . I drew him close again, couldn’t stop touching now that we were finally here. “How long can you stay?”
His lips twitched into a slightly mischievous upwards curve. “I was thinking indefinitely?”
A joke, but also not. I squeezed his waist. “Please do.”
The humour drained from his face and left a heaviness that didn’t feel stifling, just right . “Planning to.”
“Good,” I said and trusted him to hear all the words I didn’t say.
I love you. I believe you. I’m so glad you’re here.
Welcome home.