One Day Like This, page 15
Luke placed his hands on her shoulders and switched their places. “Less time bitching and more time moving so I can get in there, Sis. I know how long you can be in there.”
“In a morning, when I shower,” Iz hissed through the door. “You arse.” She glanced over at Matt and winked. “I like to spend a long time in the shower.”
His thoughts flashed back to three days earlier when the two of them had sex in his. “Unfair,” he muttered, adjusting his dick.
Izabel ran her fingers along the handrail as gently and delicately as she’d played with his dick, then blew him a kiss before she headed back down the stairs.
After everybody had a plateful of food, Nan clinked her fork on the side of her glass tumbler of a Chardonnay she’d told everyone she picked up for four quid at Aldi.
Everyone paused and looked in her direction. “When I look at you lads, I see little football kits, and ironing grey school pants and white shirts on a Sunday. I see days when me and your Auntie Pat would wonder if you were ever going to make it through high school, let alone pass any exams. But you’ve made us proud. You’re working hard with all the music. And this woman on the phone dance thing gave you a big lift when she picked your song. And it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving bunch. Anyway, here’s to the band.”
“The band,” everyone replied.
His Auntie Pat put her hand over his shoulder. “You especially,” she said quietly. “I know this is all you and your hard work, keeping everyone going. I know it’s not easy. But I’m very grateful you didn’t do this on your own. I’d have been just as proud of you. But I’m glad you took your brother and cousins and friends with you, Matt. Says a lot about the kind of man you are. And my sister is as dumb as two rabbits because she was never able to see it.”
He turned to his aunt. “Do you ever hear from her?” he asked.
Pat shook her head. “Not directly. Someone gave me a social media address for her once. I checked it out about three years ago because I’m nosey. Seems to have moved on. New life. New fella. Don’t know if the kids in the picture are hers or his, but I’m guessing you’ve either got half-siblings or stepsiblings. You want the address? I can dig it out if you do?”
Matt shook his head. “Nah. This is family enough for me.”
He looked around the room at the band, at Iz, at Chaya. His nan and aunt, even his deadbeat uncle. It was enough.
As the party came to an end, and the guests left, Matt was left alone with his nan, returning the chairs up to the bedroom. He slid them under the bed, thinking about his mum. For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder whether she’d seen the news somehow. Perhaps she was on the app Willow Warner was on. Perhaps she’d seen one of the headlines about their sudden success.
Then he pushed her to the back of his mind.
Nan was in the kitchen loading the dishwasher.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to help with anything else?”
Nan stood. “No. You go on home. I’ve left a bag of leftovers for you next to the door with your name on it.”
He knew there had probably been one for everyone at some point. “Thanks, Nan.” He kissed her cool cheek and made for the door.
Nan reached for the tea towel to wipe her hands. “Matt?”
“Yeah?”
“I know it’s none of my business, but…you and Izabel. It’s…just…I noticed. Whether you meant me to or not.”
His gut hit the ground and bounced back up. “There’s nothing to notice. We’re just friends.”
Nan nodded thoughtfully. The pause felt like it lasted hours. “Whatever you say, Lad. Just…be careful. There’s a lot at stake, for all of you.”
And her words reverberated through him the whole way home.
11
Six days later, Izabel looked around Matt’s apartment. Candles flickered on the windowsill and coffee table. The lamp in the corner provided just enough light so they could see each other. The hot pot she’d made was cooking in the oven.
She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Completely too much for an evening in, but given they weren’t going out on a date anytime soon, she’d wanted to make more of an effort of simply being together.
As much as she loved falling into bed with Matt, she needed something that felt more like a relationship and less like a secret. She’d dug the fitted peach dress and nude heels out of her more casual wardrobe, and taken her time styling her hair and putting on a full face of make-up.
And cooked him one of his favourite meals, a hotpot. Sure, it was a simple meat and potatoes and vegetables in a pie, but she’d baked their initials onto the crust, and bought a fresh jar of pickled beetroot to go with it.
Certainly wasn’t going to go down in a culinary hall of fame, but she hoped Matt would appreciate the effort.
It had been an ordeal to organise, too. She’d told Matt she needed him to leave his apartment door off the latch so she could head up there as soon as he and Luke and left to go to their band rehearsal. She’d lied to Luke and told him she was going out with the girls and would be staying at Gemma’s. Thankfully he’d not asked for specifics.
At the rattle of the key in the door, excitement flooded through her. She leaned against the back of the chair. No, wait, she should sit on the chair arm, but halfway there, she decided on the stool by the kitchen island. How could there be so many options in a small open-plan apartment?
“Hey, babe.” Matt said from the hallways. “Something smells good.” He walked into the living room. “Holy shit, Iz. This is…wow.” He took in the candles and the set table.
“We can’t go out on a date right now. Like an outside date. But I thought we could do that here. At home.”
Matt reached for her hands, pulled her knuckles to her lips. “You look incredible.” He held her hands out to one side and stepped back, his eyes pursuing the cut of the dress leisurely. “I appreciate the effort. And I’m sorry we can’t go out. I’ll take you somewhere spectacular in this dress eventually. Some fancy restaurant once we’ve got paid and—”
“We don’t need fancy. Or expensive. Or the future. We can enjoy this, can’t we. A few candles. Some good food. Your nan slipped the wine in my care package. I think it’s her Aldi special, but it’ll taste great. And it was nice to get dressed, up even you’re the only person to see it.”
Matt pulled her close and kissed her softly. “I like that I’m the only person who gets to see you in it.”
“Neanderthal.”
“Maybe. I love all of this. But one day, I’ll give you the world.”
“Your idea of the world and mine are a bit different. I’m happy with this, if this is all we ever have.”
Matt’s eyes studied hers. “You really mean that?”
Izabel nodded. “I know in your head you want the income and security from your music, but this works just fine. My feelings for you won’t be any different if we live in a bigger house or eat at expensive restaurants. I’ll still be the girl who likes staying in with you and eating home cooked hot pot with a pie crust instead of potatoes.”
“You made a pie crust?”
“I did.”
“I just died and went to heaven.”
“Go shower, put on a shirt. It’s another thirty minutes until it’s cooked.”
Matt cupped her cheeks and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back in ten.”
Half an hour later, they sat at the round table, two flickering candles and some wildflowers she’d picked between them.
“I want to do more at the shelter given they are about to be evicted,” Iz said, cutting into her hot pot. The meat was tender and juicy, the crust flaky.
“Could you quit working with Gemma and work the shelter full-time?” Matt asked. He slipped a forkful of hotpot into his mouth and groaned. “This tastes so good. Tell me there’s more.”
“I followed a recipe for eight. You might be eating it for days.”
Matt shrugged. “I wouldn’t complain if I did. It’d delicious. Thanks for making it.”
“You’re welcome.” It pleased a part of her. She thrived off being of service or doing something good from someone else. She tried not to dwell too hard on where that had come from. That feelings of being left behind by her father’s death haunted her. By her mother picking her new boyfriend over seeing her through school. She knew Luke would never let her down, but he hadn’t loved the intense periods of playing both brother and parent. Which is why she also struggled with Matt’s question.
“I’ve been with Gemma from the start. And she’s at a critical moment, opening a second studio. It would feel wrong to bail. But I have a marketing degree. I feel like I should be able to come up with something. Even if it’s just a simple publicity push. Like maybe I could ask people like Jon if they would share their story of why the shelter is so important. And then there are people like Joe Lockwood, a barber who volunteers at the shelter, and I wonder if they could talk about what they get out of it. Why it’s important.”
Matt took a sip of his wine. “So, why don’t you?”
Izabel shrugged. “I don’t know. It feels a bit like begging, and I don’t like that vibe, although I’ll do it if I can’t come up with anything else.”
“What if you organised something to raise funds? Like…shit. I’m not the ideas guy. Like a car wash but on a big scale. Something only you could pull together. You have a knack, Iz. People donate shit to you all the time. Like, why don’t you try and get high end donations and organise a silent auction or something.”
“There’s a difference between boxes of pasta and Bulgari, Matt.”
“Yeah,” he said, waving his fork in her direction. “But you got someone to donate a washing machine. Whatever. Think about game changing campaigns in the past. What comes to mind?”
“I don’t know. Live-Aid maybe? But there is a huge difference between my ability to rake in musicians and Bob Geldof’s, unless you happen to have Bob on speed dial.”
Matt paused for a moment. “I don’t. But, seriously. How many bands would you need for a half decent concert in Manchester?”
Izabel took a large gulp of wine. “You can’t possibly be suggestion I arrange a concert.”
“Why not. Look what was organised outside the town hall after the bombing at the Ariana Grande concert. What was it called? Together in One Voice Manchester. It was amazing how many choirs and singers stepped up. This is a local cause. The shelter is an important one. I think you could make it happen.”
“It wouldn’t raise enough to buy the building though. That’s a million-pound deal.”
“No. But it could help you land softly somewhere else. It buys you time.”
Iz took a bite of the hot pot but growing waves of excitement rippled through her. “I’d have to take some time off from Gemma to see it through. But, shit, I need the salary. I can’t live on the part-time salary from the shelter. I mean, I could, but it would mean I’d have to stay at Luke’s for a while longer instead of saving to move out.”
“Is it worth it?”
Izabel paused. “Yeah. I think it is. But. God, matt. You might have more faith in me than I do.”
“We’ll help. The band. Pick a date and sign us up. And I’ll reach out to a couple of the bands we’ve opened for. I think it could work.”
Izabel jumped as a loud hammering reverberated through the apartment.
“Who the fuck is that?” muttered Matt, pushing his chair back.
“What if it’s Luke?” she asked.
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll get rid of him. Just go to my bedroom for a minute just in case.”
She did as he asked, sad that their moment had been interrupted. Closing the door so it was open just a crack, she tried her best to listen.
“I’m heading out for a beer with Ben and was going to ask if you wanted to join us.” Her brother’s voice carried toward her. “But I can see you’re busy.”
Shit. She’d left her bags on the kitchen counter. Hopefully he wouldn’t look too carefully. They were easily identifiable if he’d given them even the briefest of glances when she’d left them in his hallway. The voices became mumbled for a moment.
“Okay. Catch you later,” Matt said, finally.
Izabel heard the door shut and sucked in a breath of air as she flopped down onto the bed. Her heart raced. What if he’d noticed her bags? Jesus Christ. She’d been careless.
“Iz,” Matt said, pushing the bedroom door open.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have set all this up. It’s too risky.”
Matt pulled her into his arms. “Your brother doesn’t have a key, nor does he know every single detail about my life. We’re grown-arsed men, Iz. I’m glad you did what you did. I’m glad we’re talking and dating and doing normal shit, because it takes the edge off lying to your brother. For now.”
“I hate hiding and lying, Matt.”
“Yeah. It’s not my favourite. But, I think we both know he’ll take a lot of talking to accept this. And this is the band’s moment. I don’t know what my life looks like if music isn’t in it. And I’ve been waiting my whole life for a big audience to find us. And it’s finally here. And so are you. And I feel like I’m betting against the gods or something by trying to keep both of you. I’m being selfish, aren’t I?”
Izabel kissed him softly. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with wanting a meaningful relationship and having work you’re passionate about and love. But it’s definitely tricky for us to navigate right now.”
Matt pressed his lips to her forehead. “Can we go back to before the knock? When it was just you and me? When we were talking about your big concert and how amazing you’re going to be?”
“I don’t know where to begin?”
“Neither do I when it comes to your brother and Jase. But if we want the outcome badly enough, we’ll figure out a way. I promise you we’ll figure out a way together.”
He slid his finger beneath the thin strap of her dress, nudging it off her shoulder. Gently, he placed a line of kisses down her neck. “Did you want to go back and eat some more food?” His hand slid around her back and lingered on the zipper of the dress.
“I made apple pie,” she said, not giving a shit whether they ate it or not.
Matt’s lips smiled against her skin. “We can eat it later. Right now, I want to eat you.” He lowered the zipper and nudged the strap of her other shoulder, encouraging the dress down over her hips.
“You’re still hungry?”
Matt stepped back and took her hand. “If I tell you something, will you promise you won’t kill me?”
“Depends on what it is?”
He led her to the bed.
“I think this makes me a dick of the highest order, but after I’d gotten over the near heart attack of your brother in my apartment, it made me hard that we’d nearly got caught.”
“How incredibly exhibitionist of you.”
Matt grinned as he threw his shirt to the ground. “It’s an introverted kind of exhibitionism. I really don’t want anybody to see us fucking…but the idea of it.” He stroked his length through his jeans, squeezing hard.
“Show me,” she whispered.
A week later, things were still off the hook.
Matt looked around the stage. Alex grinned at the crowd and Luke sweated like a beast behind his kit, keeping time despite the volume of alcohol he’d already thrown down his throat. Ben’s base riffs were on fire as he played next to Jase who was reaching his arm out over the crowd with his microphone while they screamed the chorus of These Broken Pieces.
And fuck, how he missed Izabel. He missed the feel of her in his arms, he missed the scent of her on his pillow, his missed the sound of her laughter and the way her back arched when he fucked her. Video chats that ended with graphically detailed mutual masturbation would do for now but were nowhere near close to the way she came around his cock or slept in his embrace.
But more than anything, he missed talking to her like they had the night of the dinner she’d cooked for him. About their goals. Shit they wanted to do. He wanted to be the person who made her feel like she could accomplish anything and be the one to point out when that kind heart of hers was being taken advantage of.
And when he faltered about whether this would all last, she’d been the voice of reason and had been right.
The band had caught fire.
Sure, Willow Warner making a video using their song had been the start. The last update he’d gotten, the video had been viewed two hundred and fifty million times. A quarter of a fucking billion.
But her followers had stuck around for their music. Everything had exploded. Streaming rate, downloads, video views, social media follows. They’d appeared on the BBC, on Radio One, on Capital FM. They been interviewed by music press, newspapers, and on-line entertainment channels.
He was gloriously fucking exhausted, but it wouldn’t stop him following his own rules and leaving every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears on the stage tonight.
He walked over the Luke at his kit, a kit they’d upgraded just three days earlier. Hell, when they’d passed quarter of a million in sales, they’d all bought new instruments, and hired a small tour bus which they needed for this unexpected tour. It was the only extra outlay they put down, but they needed a broader conversation on pay out versus investment in the band before they splurged on anything else.
Indie rock band Stryker were currently riding the top of the charts, but their supporting act had been off the rails. The final straw had come when the lead singer had been too high to perform. And because there was obviously some part of the universe looking out for them, they’d been offered the gig. An exceptionally well-paid gig for the final eleven dates of their large tour. If they were lucky, they’d make six-figures with the fee and all the merchandise they were selling like hot cakes. And that was after expenses.
“It’s fucking insane,” Luke yelled from behind the kit as Matt climbed up onto the platform with his guitar.
Matt shook his head in disbelief. “I know.”
