Chapter 42
ANYA
My phone rings with a call from Devon whilst I’m walking out of the local supermarket. I’m reading the label on the vitamins my mother has sworn will ‘give me my energy back’ . I tried to tell her that my lack of energy is probably little to do with a Vitamin B deficiency and more likely because I can’t bear to do anything apart from sit at home moping.
I throw the vitamin box back in my bag and answer as I step outside into the mild air.
“Hello?”
“Hey Anya, how have you been?”
I nod as if she can see me. “Great, thanks.” I try to enthuse my voice with as much pep as I can. “You?”
“Good, good. So that job is looking to start moving in the next week. Are you okay to start on Monday?”
Monday? My stomach flips. I’m excited for a new job of course, but the prospect of walking onto a set without Danny Covington is almost too much to bear.
Pull yourself together, Anya. He’s gone and he’s not coming back, I straighten my shoulders.
“Monday works perfectly.”
Devon rattles off an address in London and I mentally write down everything I need to do on my walk back to the car. First I need to find somewhere to live. There’s no way I can commute from home or bunk on Rosie’s couch for the next three months. It will be good for me, to have my own space. To put my stamp on a place that doesn’t have my baby pictures hung on the walls or a spot in the corner for a guitar stand. It’s what I need. Even if it makes my heart heavier in my chest.
In the quiet of my car, I take a deep breath before starting the engine. The radio clicks on as I pull onto the road. The sun is setting on the horizon and I drive towards it, squinting into the light. I can’t concentrate on my driving whilst the radio hosts banter so I reach to turn it off.
“…and now a new one from Cassandra. The mystery of who’s the feature on this one has gone viral. Let’s see if we can figure out who he is. This is Wish I Could .”
My whole body freezes as the song that was first played in my little Paris apartment echoes through the speakers. It’s an effort to keep the car moving and my hands on the wheel as I feel my heart pounding in my chest. I find myself leaning towards the speaker, desperate to hear what I somehow know is coming.
Danny’s voice fills the car. He sounds the exact same as the first time he sang for me. My stomach swoops as his smooth voice washes over me. The original version focused on Cassandra’s yearning to live her life on her own terms. Now, Danny’s verse laments a lost love that he wishes he could save. It’s only when the song ends that I realize the wetness on my face is from my tears.
My vision blurs as I pull to a stop outside my childhood home, pulling the key out of the ignition before burying my head in my hands and letting the sobs free. This is ridiculous, how many more tears am I to shed over a man?
The car door opens, and my sob is replaced with a scream. I flinch back in my seat with my hand over my racing heart, but it’s not a murderer standing with his hands braced against the car.
It’s Danny.
I gape at him, my eyes darting from him to the radio that just played his voice. Maybe I crashed the car on the way here and here is the grim reaper preparing to move me on.
“Why are you crying?” Danny asks, the car light bathing his smooth skin in a golden ray.
“What the fuck?” is all I can say. I reach behind me with shaky hands and unbuckle the seat belt tugged painfully against my torso.
I don’t even think as I take his offered hand, wincing at the sparks that travel up my arm as soon as we touch.
He lets go of me as soon as I’m upright, taking a step back. I miss his touch immediately and wrap my arms around my stomach.
“What the fuck?” I whisper again, mostly to myself.
Danny runs his hand through his hair. “Uh, hello.”
“Hello?” I ask incredulously. “ Hello? ”
I press the heel of my palms to my eyes, as if I can rub away the vision of the love of my life standing before me.
“What are you doing here?” Tingles dance at the edges of my vision, but he is very much still standing in my mother’s driveway.
“I…” He stops and takes a breath. “I needed to see you.”
I stare at him. He walked away from me without a second glance, implying that I was taking advantage of him, that we were never going anywhere, and now he needs to see me?
“Why?”
He flinches and takes another deep breath. “I knew as soon as I left that I was making the worst decision of my life. I thought it was for the best. If I left like that, if you hated me and we cut it off then, I thought we would both be able to move on. But it was like cutting off my right arm. I didn’t feel whole anymore, like some vital piece of me was still with you even though I was thousands of miles away.
Every time an article or a post came out about me and the mysterious girl I was seen with, or about my dad, I told myself that it was right. That it was right to leave you behind even when my body was screaming at me to pick up the phone and call you. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t listen to music without thinking of you.
Cassie came by and asked if I would help with her album, work on that song that I only ever decided to play because you inspired me to. So I agreed. We stayed up all night and she’d fall asleep in the studio but I stayed awake until my fingers were numb. I poured everything I felt about my father, about my life, about you out, until I blinked one day and had an album in front of me. I finished it and I thought I would be happy, I thought it would fill me with purpose, with –I don’t know–joy? But it was empty, it was empty without you. My life was empty without you.”
He takes a deep breath, “I could have all the dreams I could ever want, but it would mean nothing without you. I love you, Anya.”
His declaration spills across the quiet driveway of my childhood home. He breathes heavily as if he’s just finished a marathon.
I blink at him. “I got a job.”
His jaw drops slightly before he barks a laugh and rubs his hand over his face. “I spill my heart out in front of you and that’s the first thing you say?”
I want to step closer but my feet feel frozen to the ground. “I got a job. I was so scared that you would end up steamrolling my career, that I would never be able to make it on my own, that I couldn’t have both. A career I was proud of and—” You . I bite my lip before that last omission tumbles out.
“That’s amazing, freckles.” A bright smile tugs at his beautiful lips. “I’m so proud of you.”
I brush past him, his chest brushing my shoulder. I grab my shopping out of the rear door. I don’t need to see him to feel his presence lingering behind me.
“Do you like French onion soup?” I ask, turning to face him.
He blinks. “Uh, yeah?”
“Okay.” I hand him the bag and turn towards the front door.