‘I did. I really did. It was the best time of my life.’ She sighed. ‘But now I’m definitely saving myself for the slippers man. And I’m prepared to wait a very long time.’ For a man who’d never touch her heart the way Nathan had.
Cassie’s voice turned just a little too bright. ‘So, focus on you. You are beautiful. Your body is curvy in all the right places. You have amazing eyes, a beautiful smile and a generous heart. You are funny and talented and have so much to give the right guy, you just need to get out—what are you laughing at?’
‘It’s okay, thanks, Cass, but you know me. I already have a plan.’
‘And why doesn’t that surprise me? Spill.’
‘That reporter needed telling—they all do. I’ll never forget the way Mum used to hide behind the curtains, the little notes they’d push through the letterbox. The lies. So I’ve decided I’m going to do an interview with someone reputable and put the world straight about what really happened to Daddy. Tell the truth about the business, his colleague, the suicide.’
Her sister whooped. ‘I was wrong about you. You’re one feisty chick. Are you sure you want to put yourself on the line like that?’
‘You know what? I’m sick of hiding behind it. You never know, it might help someone...someone like me.’
And being angry felt a damned sight better than thinking about how much her heart had shattered.
Her throat almost seized up. ‘It’s time for us all to have a fresh start. They’re always printing lies. Even Nathan gets his share of far-fetched stories. Instead of ignoring them I’m going to turn this whole experience into something positive.’
Once she’d found the strength to actually get out of bed.
Then she was also going to write a whole new bucket list. One that definitely didn’t include falling in love.
The sad truth was, with his passion and her planning they could have done something amazing together, improved life for others like her, or people like Marshall. After everything they’d been through they could have been happy—the missing part of each other’s hearts. If she’d been enough for him to want to stay. If he’d thought that what they had was worth truly fighting for. Clearly he didn’t.
Which was a crying shame.
Because she did.
But even if she could turn back the clock she’d still fall in love with Nathan Munro again, in a heartbeat.
* * *
Dario’s grin was as wide as his bullish shoulders as he greeted Nate from the glittering stage at the National Music Awards. ‘So you just got how many awards?’
‘Five.’
‘And the night’s not over yet...’ Dario clapped him between the shoulder blades and took a slug of very expensive French champagne. ‘You’re at the top of the game, man. Top. Of. The. Game. Best album. Best single. Best male artist...’
Nate put this latest award on the table alongside the others and stared at them all in dismay. What was he doing putting on a show? Smiling and schmoozing.
Why? Because that was what he did. He acted his part and played the game, never showing who he really was or what things really meant to him.
‘Yeah. Yeah. So I guess I should be happy. Right?’
‘You’re not?’ At Nate’s shrug Dario shook his head. ‘You’re not.’
‘Think I’m getting old, buddy. This kind of gig doesn’t give me the same buzz any more. It feels a bit hollow.’ Without someone to share it with.
Okay. Without Sasha to share it. He’d messed up again and a zillion awards wouldn’t make him feel like a better man, never mind best damned male.
‘So what are you saying? What are you going to do?’
‘I have no idea. But I’m through with playing the wild bad boy. People get hurt.’ Mainly him, and those around him. Sasha.
She’d been the only one to see through the packaging to his core. And she hadn’t found him wanting—she’d believed in the best of him. She brought out a side of him he didn’t know he had.
‘Ah, mate.’ Dario grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the auditorium to the accompaniment of shushes and angry whispers. But what the hell? It didn’t matter any more. None of this. ‘Come with me.’
‘What? What are you doing?’ Nate shrugged out of Dario’s grip, uninterested in playing games or getting laid. ‘If this is another of your booty-calls, I’m out. I’m just not interested.’
‘I know you’re not. You haven’t been interested in anything since you got back from London.’ He grinned and affected a feminine voice. ‘You don’t call, you don’t text...’
‘Yeah. Yeah. I’ve been...distracted.’
‘Well, you need to snap out of it. You’re rude in interviews, lacklustre in the studio. You need to pull it together, man. Unless...’ His oldest friend took out a smartphone and held the screen up to Nate. ‘This is the reason?’
Nate’s heart dropped to his boots as there, flickering to life, was a video of Sasha in some TV interview. Sweet, strong, courageous and so perfect it made his heart ache, she talked of her father’s death, of the effects that had on her life. Of her family. Her love for her job and the importance of special-needs support. She was eloquent, beautiful.
Not once would she answer questions about their brief affair, as the journalist dubbed it. But he saw the pain in her eyes. The same pain he’d seen as he’d walked away. The same pain twisting his heart right now.
He missed her. Missed her smell, her smile, even the lists that drove him crazy.
‘Classy lady. And she’s got a big following out there now. Quite the lobbyist. She’s changing things, Nate. Changing people’s opinions about press freedom to walk all over your private life.’ Dario’s voice cut through. ‘Sack me if you want to, but I’m going to say it anyway...I reckon you need to stop acting like an idiot and start getting serious about a few things too. Clean up your act. Stop pushing people away. Start letting people in.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m not going to get all California psycho-babble on you, Nate. But you need to give people a chance to get to know you. I mean, really get to know you. You’ve got a chip there on that shoulder and you’re hiding behind it.’
‘Nah, this is me. I’ve never been any different. Nate Munro.’
Dario frowned. ‘It’s been ten years, Nate. I’ve watched you drink yourself into oblivion, do everything to excess, push yourself deeper and faster into wine and women. And never once have you made a proper lasting connection. Not once.’
Wow, this was an eye-opener he didn’t need. But Dario was right, Nate conceded reluctantly. He did push people away, unable to handle any kind of honest contact or emotion. He’d realised it in the art gallery when he’d looked round and seen strangers’ eyes staring out of his so-called friends’ faces. Living in some kind of wilderness where he was thinking, acting but not feeling. Not living, not really.
Wild, definitely. Sane? Not so much.
But Sasha challenged that. She fired feelings in him he didn’t think were possible. Bright light feelings, strong deep feelings and a sense of belonging to something, to someone, something good. He’d never had that before.
But he hadn’t been able to handle it, preferring not to feel anything, as he had for the last God knew how many years. Scared that he’d be consumed by the feelings, the inevitable pain.
And so he’d done what he did best.
Ran away. Came back to a place that now felt nothing like home. And she hadn’t even b
een here but it felt empty without her.
Everything did.
He’d hidden behind excuses fuelled with alcohol and anger instead of facing up to reality. Shunned real intimacy. Pretended that living off the rails was fine, great even. That being damaged was like wearing a badge of honour. The act had become reality.
Facing Dario, he took a breath. ‘Okay, I need you to set up a couple of urgent meetings with my lawyers for tomorrow morning, first thing. And then organise flights to London immediately after.’
‘You think she’s going to take you back after you walked away from her? Twice?’
Nate’s gut tightened at the risk he was going to take. ‘Hell if I know. But I have to try to convince her. I don’t care what you say, I’m not backing down.’
‘But London—?’
He leaned into Dario’s face. ‘Will you listen to me? Yes, London.’
‘No, Dumbo.’ Dario’s finger prodded Nate’s chest but he was shaking his head and laughing. ‘You listen to me. Not London. Manchester.’
‘What?’
‘It’s that music contest thing tomorrow. She won’t be in London. She’ll be in Manchester.’ He shook his head. ‘Thank God someone’s kept an eye on things while you moped around the house with a sore head for two weeks.’
‘You kept an eye on her?’
Dario shrugged, flashing a wry smile. ‘Well, she kind of grew on me. And you were different because of her. In a good way.’
Manchester. He’d forgotten. Dario was right: he’d been too busy staring at the bottom of a liquor bottle to keep up with the days.
‘Cheers, mate.’ He grabbed his friend’s big bear face between his hands and kissed his bald head. ‘I owe you.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know. More than you can ever imagine.’ Dario drew away, laughing. ‘I just hope she’s worth it.’
‘Oh, she is. But first I have to find her.’
FIFTEEN
‘Third place goes to No Limits, Chesterton High School!’
‘Oh wow. Just wow.’ Oh My God. Sasha couldn’t hear her own thoughts above the screams and her hammering heart. It was more then she’d dared hope for. ‘Quick everyone. Up onto the stage.’
A sea of faces came in and out of focus as she stepped up to accept the award and passed it around to the choir. Just to see their delighted faces made this moment the proudest of her life. They’d come so far and worked so darned hard.
It was just such a shame that Nathan couldn’t be here to share it with them. After all, he’d done so much to get them there.
Her heart contracted a little. Too bad. It was his loss to have made such a difference and not even know.
She drew in air and tried to steady herself. Ever since he’d left she’d ricocheted from sheer joy at the memories they’d made to utter despair. And now she had to speak through a throat thick with emotion.
‘Just a quick thank you to everyone who has helped in this wonderful achievement. You were very kind and gave of your time generously. We owe you a huge debt. Without a doubt we wouldn’t have got here without you.’
She hoped, if Nathan ever saw this on the Internet, if he’d even bother to look, that he would know she meant him, more than anyone else. He’d given them all such a gift of self-belief; if only he could find it within himself.
A movement in the wings distracted her momentarily, but when she turned her head to look she couldn’t see anything but blackness and the folds of open curtains.
Strange.
Focus.
‘Er...and I wanted to say how proud I am of these wonderful gifted kids—’
Now the tiny hairs all over her body prickled, making her lose track of her speech. Great. She was going to be the laughing stock of the whole competition. Teacher struck dumb at singing contest.
But...something...
She glanced again to the side of the stage and saw the silhouette of a man. Proud jawline. The arrogant stance that told the world he didn’t give a damn, when she knew he’d cared deeply.
But not deeply enough.
Nathan.
Her heart stalled as he caught her gaze. Every fibre in her body craved his touch; heat pooled in her abdomen then seeped out to her skin. Was he here for the show? The final act? But there’d been nothing on the programme about a special guest.
In which case...did that mean...? What she thought it might mean? That he was here for her? Her chest grew tighter and tighter.
Hello? An audience of three thousand...
Oops. She leaned into the microphone again. ‘And...er...so...thank you to the organisers...’ Damned dry mouth.
She looked over to him again. Was he meant to be presenting an award? Was he supposed to be up here too? She raised her eyebrows to him in question. What am I supposed to do now?
He held up his palm and shook his head, urging her to continue her speech.
Great, all very well for you to say that now, Mr Hotshot. Now that I’m truly speechless.
The sea of faces started to look bemused. People began to shuffle, stare down at their shoes, whisper. This was the teacher who made the news? Catatonic.
Oh, hell.
‘Er...and thank you all very much. Goodnight.’ Stepping away from the microphone, she whispered to the choir, ‘Very well done. Now we just have to go backstage to wait for the other announcements.’
While she either calmed down or got arrested for the murder of an infuriating rock god with an ass to die for.
I was provoked, Your Honour.
Wiping her sweaty palms down her dress, she walked off the stage on extremely shaky legs flanked by fourteen hyper-excited singers, who surged towards Nate giving high fives, squealing, jumping, pulling at his arms.
Above their heads he watched her, his eyes assessing, unsure, cautious.
Good.
It took a few moments to herd them into some kind of order, then he held out his arms to her as if she might walk straight into them.
Not a chance. ‘Great timing, Mr Munro. Couldn’t you have waited until I’d finished my moment of glory on stage? Now the world is going to think I haven’t got a sensible brain cell in my head.’
He flashed her a grin that made him look devilishly handsome. ‘No. I think I win that particular award.’
‘Well, we knew that already.’
Wariness flickered across his eyes. ‘Can we talk?’
‘Sure, go right ahead.’
‘Somewhere private?’ Please. His eyes pleaded with her as he gestured towards the choir, whose heads bounced back and forth between Nate and Sasha as if watching a tennis match. ‘Fourteen’s a crowd?’
‘Aren’t you used to dealing with large audiences?’ She folded her arms, enjoying every moment of his predicament. ‘I can’t leave them, and I’m sure they’d all love to hear what you have to say.’
‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’
For someone so used to working with adoring fans hanging off his every word, he looked strangely sheepish. Pale even.
He coughed, his mouth tightening into a grimace. ‘Okay. Well...That was...awesome, No Limits. Congratulations everyone. I’ve booked a couple of limos for afterwards and we’re all going to go for a celebratory ride. Okay?’ He pulled them into a tight huddle. ‘Now, Miss Sweet and I have something very important to discuss, so go back to your seats and we’ll be along shortly.’
‘Are you going to kiss her?’ It was George, the boy who reminded Nate so much of his brother. Lovely George. Knew all the right questions.
Nate looked right at her. Deep down into her soul, which did a little jig no matter how much she tried to stop it. ‘Yes. If she’ll let me.’
More whoops.
The
folded arms clenched across her chest, she shook her head resolutely. ‘No. He. Is. Not.’
‘Well, no man kisses a lady, with an audience.’
A collective of shoulders drooped. ‘Awww...sir...that’s not fair.’
Silence descended as they disappeared back into the theatre.
Nate grew serious. She thought about kicking up more of a fuss, but, what the heck? She should at least hear him out. Then she’d kick that sorry splendid ass.
‘Sash, I came to apologise.’
‘And so you should. But here? Now? When I have fourteen teenagers to chaperone?’
‘I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought—’
She blinked, trying to contain the hope rising in her chest. They’d been here before and it hadn’t ended nicely. ‘That what Nate Munro wants, Nate Munro always gets, right? I’m surprised you didn’t hop up onto the stage there and then. Do a little song or something...just for me. Or make a cringing speech. A flash mob. A huge embarrassing gesture. That would’ve ensured a few headlines.’
‘Some things are just better kept out of the limelight.’
His eyes were warm with flecks of gold. Or it could have been the reflection of the stage lighting. Either way, the effect was mesmerising. He was mesmerising, even at his most vulnerable, right now, out of his depth and yet still commanding every scrap of her attention.
A lump squeezed in her throat. ‘Oh? What kind of things?’
‘I love you,’ he said, the words carrying the weight of his emotions, steady and true. ‘From the second I saw you in Dario’s arms, all feisty and fighting and flustered. I just didn’t think it would be enough for us to overcome all these damned obstacles.’ He stopped. Took a breath. Continued. ‘And I was pretty damn stupid to run away.’
‘Again.’
‘Yes. Again.
‘See, I’ve been running away for a long time—from myself, mainly. And then you came along again, out of the blue, making me feel things. Things I didn’t want to feel. It was too intense. I wasn’t ready for it—you were so fresh, so bright and then...so brave. So beautiful. You bowled me over. You bowled me right out of the emotional wasteland I’d been wallowing in and, wham—straight into full Technicolor feelings.’ He smiled his just-for-her smile. ‘I was scared. Terrified. I didn’t want to feel those things. I didn’t want to fall in love with you. I wasn’t sure I even knew how—but you showed me.’
Backstage with Her Ex Page 17
