had cheated on her.
She needed time to process it all. She needed time to think about it, but also time not to have thoughts about it tumbling through her head.
She needed time to breathe.
“You okay?”
She glanced across and met those dark eyes and suddenly... “Yes. Yes, I think I really am.”
§
They talked about the wedding, and about how Emily’s manager had taken her aside at work this week and instructed her to take time off to deal with all the distractions. They talked about Ray’s time at his chateau in the Loire region of France, about how he had been working all hours in the studio there stripping back all the over-produced tracks from his new album, getting back to the raw energy that had made him write and record it in the first place.
“It was talking to you that made me understand I had to do that,” he said.
“I only asked why you were recording again.”
“You make me see everything differently.” She hit him on the arm, at that. She didn’t have that kind of effect on people; she was just Emily Rivers, that was all. She didn’t think she’d ever made Thom see anything differently.
They talked about working with Rake again. He’d played bass in the Angry Cans, the band that had put Ray on TV and magazine covers right around the world fifteen years ago. He and Ray had barely spoken in the ten years since the band had split, but now Rake had stepped in late in the day to help fine-tune the album.
“How is it with Rake?”
Ray grinned. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do what he’s doing,” he said. “We’re throwing away so much from the recordings, paring them right down to the bone. There’s a real buzz in the studio. It’s like we’re eighteen again. And having him around is like your ex-girlfriend has moved back in, only there’s no prospect of make-up sex, you’ll be glad to know. And it’s like two big cats who find themselves in the same territory, prowling around each other, always knowing where the other one is but pretending they don’t care. And do you know what? It’s the best fucking thing!”
They talked practical matters. Emily had moved out of the house she owned when Thom had tried to hit her that time; and now she’d fought with Marcia, and didn’t really have anywhere to go... “I have plenty of space,” said Ray.
At first Emily thought what an odd way that was of putting it, then she realized it was a combination both of him being sensitive and that he did, actually, have lots of options.
“You might feel awkward about just moving in,” he went on. “You might think it’s too early. Whatever. But moving in with me is an option. I have other places, though. There’s an apartment in West India Quay. A penthouse flat in Soho. A house in Henley-on-Thames – that’s nice, and it’s not too far from Ronnie’s place.”
As he spoke, he started to interrupt himself with laughs, realizing just how ludicrous this was.
“There’s probably more,” he said, now managing to look apologetic. “I lose track. You know how it is. I was a twenty-something rock star with more money than sense. Back then I could buy a place in London with cash, no problem. What I’m saying is this: you don’t need to worry, Emily. We’ll get your stuff and you’ll have somewhere to stay, on whatever terms you want.”
She did that thing he’d done to her. A finger on his lips to silence him. Then, moving to cradle his chin, the scratch of stubble on her hand sending weird little thrills through her, she leaned against him, kissed him.
She pulled her head away and rested it against his neck, coiled up against him as best she could against the restraint of the seatbelt. Listening to his heart. Breathing him in. Letting him kiss her on the crown of her head, letting his arm loop around her, his hand on her ribs, the side of his thumb pressing against the swell of her breast.
She shouldn’t feel so good. Her marriage now officially dead. Kayleigh’s wedding
She needed time to process it all. She needed time to think about it, but also time not to have thoughts about it tumbling through her head.
She needed time to breathe.
“You okay?”
She glanced across and met those dark eyes and suddenly... “Yes. Yes, I think I really am.”
§
They talked about the wedding, and about how Emily’s manager had taken her aside at work this week and instructed her to take time off to deal with all the distractions. They talked about Ray’s time at his chateau in the Loire region of France, about how he had been working all hours in the studio there stripping back all the over-produced tracks from his new album, getting back to the raw energy that had made him write and record it in the first place.
“It was talking to you that made me understand I had to do that,” he said.
“I only asked why you were recording again.”
“You make me see everything differently.” She hit him on the arm, at that. She didn’t have that kind of effect on people; she was just Emily Rivers, that was all. She didn’t think she’d ever made Thom see anything differently.
They talked about working with Rake again. He’d played bass in the Angry Cans, the band that had put Ray on TV and magazine covers right around the world fifteen years ago. He and Ray had barely spoken in the ten years since the band had split, but now Rake had stepped in late in the day to help fine-tune the album.
“How is it with Rake?”
Ray grinned. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do what he’s doing,” he said. “We’re throwing away so much from the recordings, paring them right down to the bone. There’s a real buzz in the studio. It’s like we’re eighteen again. And having him around is like your ex-girlfriend has moved back in, only there’s no prospect of make-up sex, you’ll be glad to know. And it’s like two big cats who find themselves in the same territory, prowling around each other, always knowing where the other one is but pretending they don’t care. And do you know what? It’s the best fucking thing!”
They talked practical matters. Emily had moved out of the house she owned when Thom had tried to hit her that time; and now she’d fought with Marcia, and didn’t really have anywhere to go... “I have plenty of space,” said Ray.
At first Emily thought what an odd way that was of putting it, then she realized it was a combination both of him being sensitive and that he did, actually, have lots of options.
“You might feel awkward about just moving in,” he went on. “You might think it’s too early. Whatever. But moving in with me is an option. I have other places, though. There’s an apartment in West India Quay. A penthouse flat in Soho. A house in Henley-on-Thames – that’s nice, and it’s not too far from Ronnie’s place.”
As he spoke, he started to interrupt himself with laughs, realizing just how ludicrous this was.
“There’s probably more,” he said, now managing to look apologetic. “I lose track. You know how it is. I was a twenty-something rock star with more money than sense. Back then I could buy a place in London with cash, no problem. What I’m saying is this: you don’t need to worry, Emily. We’ll get your stuff and you’ll have somewhere to stay, on whatever terms you want.”
She did that thing he’d done to her. A finger on his lips to silence him. Then, moving to cradle his chin, the scratch of stubble on her hand sending weird little thrills through her, she leaned against him, kissed him.
She pulled her head away and rested it against his neck, coiled up against him as best she could against the restraint of the seatbelt. Listening to his heart. Breathing him in. Letting him kiss her on the crown of her head, letting his arm loop around her, his hand on her ribs, the side of his thumb pressing against the swell of her breast.
She shouldn’t feel so good. Her marriage now officially dead. Kayleigh’s wedding
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