continuing: “Or rather, there is one thing I do know. I know that if there’s even a part of you that really cares, if you think there’s even a chance that we might be able to make this thing happen, then you’ll get your sorry ass here as fast as you can because my whole world is being ripped apart, and I need to know whether I’m going to be rebuilding it alone or with you. It’s your choice, Ray, and only you can make it.”
He’d got his sorry ass there.
Afterwards, stepping out into the mid-afternoon sunshine on that West London street, there had been a knot of photographers and reporters waiting. All this was normal for Ray: it went with that international rock star relaunching his career territory that he was currently occupying, and the press and social media buzz was something Ray’s publicist and general sidekick Mo had been working hard to generate. But up until now, Emily had managed to keep out of the media glare.
They paused in the street, cameras in their faces, voices coming at them from all sides.
“Ray: tell us about your new love.”
“Ray! Over here. Both of you.”
And then: “Emily, would you tell us how you two met?” They were using her name now: she wasn’t just some anonymous woman appearing in blurry photos, not merely the mystery ‘curvy beauty’.
“Where’s Róisín, Ray? Does she know about Emily?”
Ray let them go on for a few seconds, then he straightened, one hand raised to quieten them, the other arm around Emily’s waist. “Thank you,” he said. He spoke normally, and that more than anything forced the reporters to fall quiet, so they could hear. “It’s always good to see some old friends.”
A couple of the reporters laughed, and Ray went on: “Listen, guys, I’d really appreciate it if you’d move on after we’ve spoken. There’s a lovely young lady celebrating her wedding in there, and she really doesn’t need the disruption. Emily and I are hoping for a few quiet days, too. We’re flying out to France in a couple of hours for a bit of a break, and there’s not really much more to say than that, so if you don’t mind…”
He stepped forward and took the door-handle of a black Jaguar that had just pulled up. Opening the door, he ushered Emily inside and then he joined her and they were pulling away.
She fixed him with a quizzical look, and his expression faltered.
“I... I mean. I hope that’s okay?” he said. “France, I mean. We could go anywhere.”
And she knew they could. That wasn’t the problem.
“I need to get my things,” she said. “My passport, at least. They’re at Marcia’s place, only...” They’d fought at the wedding after Marcia had revealed she’d once slept with Emily’s husband. “Well, it might get awkward.”
Ray shrugged. “I can handle awkward,” he said, and smiled.
“Thank you.” Finally, her thoughts were catching up with events. He’d come for her. She hadn’t blown it all with her demands. He was here. “Thank you for coming back for me, and for putting up with all my dramas. I don’t know what you see in me or why you do it, but thank you.”
His finger pressed gently on her lips, silencing her. Then he turned his hand, cupped her chin, drew her into his kiss.
“I couldn’t do anything but ,” he said, pulling slightly away. He turned and addressed the big black guy in the driver’s seat. “Hey, Mo. Can we swing by Marcia Chapman’s place on the way to the airport?”
“No worries. I’ve already called ahead and spoken to Ms Chapman and she tells me she has business elsewhere: the place is empty, Ms Rivers.”
She could have kissed the top of his shaved smooth head right then. It wasn’t that she never wanted to see Marcia again, but simply that she didn’t know. The revelation about her and Thom was too fresh. Sure, her marriage to Thom was already over, but Marcia had slept with him at some undisclosed time in the past, not now, and she had kept it secret: her best friend
He’d got his sorry ass there.
Afterwards, stepping out into the mid-afternoon sunshine on that West London street, there had been a knot of photographers and reporters waiting. All this was normal for Ray: it went with that international rock star relaunching his career territory that he was currently occupying, and the press and social media buzz was something Ray’s publicist and general sidekick Mo had been working hard to generate. But up until now, Emily had managed to keep out of the media glare.
They paused in the street, cameras in their faces, voices coming at them from all sides.
“Ray: tell us about your new love.”
“Ray! Over here. Both of you.”
And then: “Emily, would you tell us how you two met?” They were using her name now: she wasn’t just some anonymous woman appearing in blurry photos, not merely the mystery ‘curvy beauty’.
“Where’s Róisín, Ray? Does she know about Emily?”
Ray let them go on for a few seconds, then he straightened, one hand raised to quieten them, the other arm around Emily’s waist. “Thank you,” he said. He spoke normally, and that more than anything forced the reporters to fall quiet, so they could hear. “It’s always good to see some old friends.”
A couple of the reporters laughed, and Ray went on: “Listen, guys, I’d really appreciate it if you’d move on after we’ve spoken. There’s a lovely young lady celebrating her wedding in there, and she really doesn’t need the disruption. Emily and I are hoping for a few quiet days, too. We’re flying out to France in a couple of hours for a bit of a break, and there’s not really much more to say than that, so if you don’t mind…”
He stepped forward and took the door-handle of a black Jaguar that had just pulled up. Opening the door, he ushered Emily inside and then he joined her and they were pulling away.
She fixed him with a quizzical look, and his expression faltered.
“I... I mean. I hope that’s okay?” he said. “France, I mean. We could go anywhere.”
And she knew they could. That wasn’t the problem.
“I need to get my things,” she said. “My passport, at least. They’re at Marcia’s place, only...” They’d fought at the wedding after Marcia had revealed she’d once slept with Emily’s husband. “Well, it might get awkward.”
Ray shrugged. “I can handle awkward,” he said, and smiled.
“Thank you.” Finally, her thoughts were catching up with events. He’d come for her. She hadn’t blown it all with her demands. He was here. “Thank you for coming back for me, and for putting up with all my dramas. I don’t know what you see in me or why you do it, but thank you.”
His finger pressed gently on her lips, silencing her. Then he turned his hand, cupped her chin, drew her into his kiss.
“I couldn’t do anything but ,” he said, pulling slightly away. He turned and addressed the big black guy in the driver’s seat. “Hey, Mo. Can we swing by Marcia Chapman’s place on the way to the airport?”
“No worries. I’ve already called ahead and spoken to Ms Chapman and she tells me she has business elsewhere: the place is empty, Ms Rivers.”
She could have kissed the top of his shaved smooth head right then. It wasn’t that she never wanted to see Marcia again, but simply that she didn’t know. The revelation about her and Thom was too fresh. Sure, her marriage to Thom was already over, but Marcia had slept with him at some undisclosed time in the past, not now, and she had kept it secret: her best friend
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