CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FOUR
All I ask is the world, and I would give it to you if I could hold in my hand everything you give me …
– from ‘The World’, by These Exiles
THIS WAS A MISTAKE.
I knew it was.
But then, I had known this was a mistake right from the start.
I should never have signed that contract. I should never have joined Butterflies when Laura asked.
But I had, and I did … and now I was front row at the Songwriter Awards, staring up at the most handsome man I had ever known, listening to a song I was almost certain had been written about me.
‘Coffee cup, looking up, seeing the world change in your eyes …’
Oh, this was a mistake.
And it was all Laura’s fault.
‘Just this one teeny tiny favour!’ she had wheedled, turning up at my hotel suite with Anna, a look of steely determination and a dress that was far too short.
‘It was just one favour last time,’ I’d pointed out hotly, ‘and look where it got me!’
Absolutely not.
It was never that simple.
‘Look, I spoke with Derek –’
‘Why?’ I groaned. ‘Come on, Laura, like I need –’
‘And he says that Patrick is moping.’
Anna was grinning, lounging elegantly, as she always managed to do, on the sofa.
I blinked. ‘Moping?’
Laura didn’t need to say any more. I could see it in the twinkle in her eyes through her glasses, the brightness of her smile, the way she wouldn’t lean back in the armchair. ‘Moping.’
I groaned.
It shouldn’t mean anything. I had sworn I was going to move on from it – that I wouldn’t look back. But that was easier said than done. Everywhere I went, every time I closed my eyes, I was reminded of Patrick. Of us.
I missed him. I could admit it, at least in the privacy of my own mind.
And the longer I went without seeing him, the more my anger faded.
Sure, I had been less than impressed with the way he had handled things.
But deep down, I understood why he’d reacted like that.
His words had hurt, but I could only imagine the hurt he had felt, seeing those articles for the first time.
I had finally taken a look at them myself and could admit they painted a damning picture.
I looked back at the pleading faces of my best friend and my twin.
‘Jessy, it’s just one night –’ Laura started.
I knew exactly what she was talking about: the Songwriter Awards.
‘He probably doesn’t even want me there!’ I tried to argue. Surely he’d moved on by now. An actress, a singer, someone who knew how his world worked.
‘It’s just one night.’ Anna picked up the refrain. ‘And I don’t want to get serious about it, but you kind of have to go. Like, contractually.’
They were up to something. I could tell by the guilty glances Laura kept sneaking Anna. ‘But you said –’
‘I said I’d look at the contract, and I said I’d speak to Derek,’ Anna said firmly. ‘And I did. And he pointed out that the break clause holds a significant financial penalty –’
I groaned and dropped on to the sofa. ‘So, I don’t have a choice. I have to go to this damned awards show?’
Anna’s smile had been a little too sly. ‘Yep.’
And that was how I’d ended up here, wearing another one of Anna’s dresses – which was again way, way too short – sitting in the front row of an awards show where I absolutely did not belong, looking up at the guy I was still pretty sure I was in love with.
Perhaps he won’t see me.
There were loads of people in the crowd. Surely, he couldn’t see all our faces.
A stupid thought. The instant it flashed across my mind, Patrick’s gaze dropped and met mine.
‘And as you let me into your world, I realized it was you …’
I had hoped I’d feel … nothing, when I saw him again. Relief, maybe, that I was free of him. Delight, perhaps, that there was a new These Exiles song. Maybe a little bittersweetness about what could have been … But not this.
Not this overwhelming urge to be close to him.
Not this painful, searing hope that he was happy to see me.
Not this aching affection that didn’t have anywhere to go.
I loved him.
And I hated that.
‘Central sun, letting none into your orbit – until me …’
This was completely insane – the song was about me. Wasn’t it? How could it be about anyone else?
The widescreens to the right and left of the stage showed the camera carefully pan over to Patrick, his face literally feet high so that those at the back could see him.
Suddenly the shot changed and now the camera was focused on me, and there was my face, ten feet tall, being livestreamed to millions –
Great.
‘And I’d rather argue with you than receive anyone’s smiles, caffeine high, you’re my sky, flying with you …’
My stomach jolted. This was insane. At this point, there were too many coincidences for this song not to be about me. As my thoughts raced, I had to focus all my efforts on keeping my face calm.
What was I supposed to do? Should I smile? Is that weird?
No, no smiling. We were no longer together and my heart hurt. Any attempt at a smile would surely be a pale imitation of the real thing. But the song was good, it was so good, lyrics that poured into my heart and awakened the feelings I’d tried to kill off every day that we’d been apart.
‘Oh my God, it’s you!’
I smiled awkwardly at the woman seated beside me. ‘Hi.’
‘You’re Jessy Donovan!’ she whispered over the music as Patrick continued to sing. ‘Did you see the article?’
Really? Was she seriously asking me that? ‘Yeah, I –’
‘I was so glad to hear that you weren’t cheating on Patrick,’ she said warmly, as though we knew each other. ‘It was great of your company to come out and state that you were meeting all those guys for work! Such nasty things, those gossip sites, I don’t know where they get off.’
They … they what?
‘You’ve got to go up there!’
I grasped the arms of my seat. ‘Oh, no, I don’t think –’
‘Yeah, you’ve got to go up there!’ The man seated on my other side pushed my shoulder forward as he hissed, ‘He’s singing about you, isn’t he?’
I turned my head slowly and met Patrick’s gaze. His eyes were warm and still trained on me. I was starting to feel like this whole performance was for me.
‘Ink my soul upon your heart if you love me too …’
‘I’m not saying it’s love, but I can’t call it anything else, calm my fears, love my tears, my body burning for yours …’
This was a dream. It had to be.
‘And when we take over the world, and we will, carve your joy, fuck the ploy, contract over …’
This was not the sort of thing that happened to me.
There he was.
Patrick.
‘You’re my anchor, and yet I’ll let you fly high, little bird …’
I smiled at the memory of our recklessness. Getting those tattoos was absolutely wild – every time I looked at my seagull, I saw Patrick’s smile as he held my hand.
‘– and if you take this leap of faith as I abseil down your heart –’
I couldn’t help but laugh at that.
‘And if all I have to do is put away my fears –’ Patrick sang, looking deep into my eyes, as though the whole world had stopped existing – ‘I need you to know your name is music to my ears.’
Oh my God.
The song came to an end with cheers and celebrations, and I couldn’t tell if the pounding in my ears was from the crowd or from the sound of my racing heart.
He had actually done it. He’d written a song for me.
‘Ms Donovan?’
I blinked. I hadn’t noticed the woman all in black and wearing a headset approach me, but she glanced down at her tablet then back to me with a sharp nod.
‘You are Ms Donovan, correct?’
‘Yeah – yes, I’m –’
‘This way, please,’ she said, gesturing to the left.
Before I knew what I was doing I was on my feet, and the crowd was muttering, my face still being blasted on to the screens. For a second, I panicked, thinking I was being pulled on to stage. But that didn’t make sense. The band had already gone backstage.
‘I was told to bring you this way,’ the stagehand said, gesturing to our left. ‘Come on, we don’t have much left of the ad break!’
So it was in a kind of daze that I allowed myself to be pulled forward, my ears almost ready to burst at the screams of the crowd. I could hardly think as I staggered forward, head spinning, the gazes of a thousand people staring –
I stepped to the left and halted at a door that the stagehand had just opened.
Inside was some sort of dressing room, though it was mostly empty.
There was also a screen. A screen showing a replay of Patrick singing– or maybe it was one of those delayed livestreamed things, so they could cut out the swearing?
Whatever it was, my ex-boyfriend-not-boyfriend, famed celebrity and musician, had sung a song all about me to the world.
This could not be happening.
‘I’ll leave you here,’ said the stagehand, closing the door behind her before I could say anything.
And so I did the only thing I could. I turned to look at the images of Patrick and the rest of the band bowing on the screen.
It was impossible to stay away from him; the draw that pulled me towards him was magnetic. The crowd was going wild, and still all I could do was stare at Patrick.
‘And that was These Exiles,’ said the awards host as she stepped dazzlingly back on to the stage, the camera immediately panning away from Patrick. ‘Now, the next award was hotly contested last year and has proven to be just as competitive today. The nominees for the –’
‘Jessy.’
I gasped.
The door had opened and there stood Patrick.
And the rest of These Exiles behind him.
‘Great song, mate,’ Matt said, clapping Patrick on the back as I tried not to be overwhelmed by being this close to the entire band.
I mean, I knew Patrick. And the rest of them … were just people.
People who were world famous.
‘We’re heading backstage to the green room,’ Wes was yelling into Patrick’s ear in the doorway as a singer started to croon back on stage, their voice carrying all the way out to us. ‘Derek said to take your time.’
‘Great, thanks,’ Patrick said, as he stepped fully through the door and took me in for the first time.