Love Lies

‘I know, Adam.’

And that’s why we could have a chance, if he’d allow it. I look at him and try to understand exactly what he’s saying. I listen very, very carefully. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Is he managing my expectations? That would mean he is at least allowing me to have expectations. How far away is starting again? Millions of miles or just around the corner?

I lean closer and closer towards him. He stops talking and I stay silent. My mouth is just inches away from his. I can feel his warm breath heat my being. Just an inch apart now. His delicious lips are right there, a nose length away.

He pulls back. The space he leaves between us is a world. Or should I say, the space I put between us is a world. He doesn’t want me. If he did, that was his moment. He could have kissed me here, among the buckets of flowers. I’ve blown it. I start to cry again. I wish I wouldn’t. It’s girly and weak and messy but I can’t stop myself. I don’t know how I’ll make it through this.

‘Why are you crying now?’ he asks with a touch of impatience. It’s agony that even his impatience thrills me; everything about him is familiar and straightforward.

‘Because I’ve lost everything. I’ve thrown away everything.’ I give in to the big, ugly sobbing once again.

‘You don’t know what the future holds, Fern. You never know, in a year’s time you might look back at all of this and, well, laugh about it.’

I stare at him as though he’s insane.

‘OK, maybe not laugh exactly,’ he concedes. ‘But it might not seem like the end of the world if you were sitting in your lovely two, maybe even three, bedroom home in – I don’t know – let’s be realistic, the wrong end of Clapham. Not a bad place for a starter home.’

‘Not at all.’ I sniff, momentarily giving in to this fantasy he’s describing.

‘And you might be pregnant and my band will have made a bit of cash, maybe I’ll have more than one group to manage by then.’

Pregnant? How? That’s stupid. How could I have met and fallen in love with someone and decided to have a child with them in that short time? Looking at Adam right now, I can’t imagine doing even the first part of that scenario. How could I meet anyone else when I’m in love with Adam? And I am in love with Adam. What I feel for him is not a three-day infatuation, ignited behind closed doors in Wembley, already cooling as I flew across the Atlantic. What I feel for Adam is not a fairytale, it’s a love story. There’s a difference.

‘And you know what else? Scott and Ben will have invited us to their wedding. They’ll be our best friends again.’

Us to their wedding. Our best friends. Did I hear that right?

‘Us? But yesterday, I asked you if you would take me back? And you said no. You said you can’t go backwards.’

‘I said I didn’t want to be the guy you ran back to, but being the guy you ran towards, well, that’s a different you. If you’d been the type of girl who could have gone through with that farce then I had you all wrong and I didn’t want that, Fern. You had to work it out on your own, girl. I was so proud of you back there. You looked so brave and strong, telling the hottest rock singer and songwriter Britain has ever produced, the world press and your thousand guests to fuck off.’ Adam’s smiling now; it’s a broad, uninhibited smile. The best smile I’ve seen from him, or anyone for that matter, in months.

‘I didn’t say that exactly,’ I say with a small, shy grin.

‘You sort of did.’

Once again we lapse into silence. I don’t know exactly what to say. I don’t want to rush at him, force anything, move too quickly or set any deadlines. None of these things would be right. Instead we both sit and enjoy the moment. I breathe in the smell of foliage and peonies.

‘Hey guys, we’re closing up now. You have to get on your way,’ calls out the guy who owns the peony stall. Adam and I scramble to our feet and splutter apologies for inconveniencing him by delaying his packing-up. The guy shrugs, not worried, not bothered.

We start to walk out of the warehouse and towards the bright LA streets. Adam puts his arm around me. It feels just the right weight.

‘Tell me some more about how it might work out,’ I say. ‘You know, the future you imagine, tell me more about that. Do you really think Ben and Scott might make it?’

‘OK, well, let’s imagine Ben is right that Scott is gay, and you are wrong to assume he was just experimenting or indulging.’

‘But Ben still doubts Scott’s ability to be faithful,’ I point out.

‘Ah, but you might be right about Scott there. You’ve always maintained that as soon as Scott finds the right person he’ll settle down. Maybe he’ll be content and complete with Ben. Other people might catch Scott’s eye but they won’t turn his head.’

‘And the American market? Is his career over?’

‘No way. Wedding Album will go to number one. First, he can really play the jilted lover bit. That will get the sympathy gushing in and then he will tell the world he’s gay. The Americans will love Scott’s sincerity, you know, especially if he comes out on Oprah. He’ll storm America.’ I smile, delighted with this idea.

‘And Jess will meet someone really special and live happily ever after?’ I add, just to tie up loose ends.

‘Yeah, she will. It might be that guy from the Purple Lounge last night. She didn’t get back to the hotel until four a.m. and she was wearing that crazy grin of hers.’

‘I know the one. So, it will all be all right,’ I confirm.

‘Most of the time,’ says Adam.

He pulls me towards him and we hold on to each other, enjoying our quiet moment in the baking sun. We stay like that for an age and then we break apart and set off towards the car.

‘Do you have any money on you for the parking lot?’ I ask.

‘Yes.’

‘Is it too soon to start scrounging off you?’

‘No,’ says Adam. ‘I’m a manager of a band now, I can slip you a few dollars. As long as you pay me back, with interest,’ he jokes.

‘I’m broke,’ I point out. ‘And I don’t have a job.’

‘Maybe you can buy the B&B off Ben. If not, you’ll have to pay me in kind,’ he grins suggestively, and I feel a faint fluttering against the lining of my stomach as excitement and hope hiccup back into my soul.

‘Sounds good.’

‘It’s too soon to propose, though, yeah?’ he asks.

‘A bit,’ I admit.

‘OK, I’ll ask you tomorrow,’ says Adam with a satisfied smile.

‘You do that,’ I beam back, smug in my ordinary ever after.

Acknowledgements

Enormous thanks go to Linda Di-Marcello for her generous support of Sparks, the children’s medical research charity. Their sole remit is to fund research across the entire spectrum of paediatric medicine. Their goal is for all babies to be born healthy and stay healthy.

To learn more about Sparks, visit www.sparks.org.uk.

Enormous thanks also go to Fern and Jim Dickson for their generous support of the Helen Feather Memorial Trust. The aims of the Trust are to support people with cancer and raise money for carefully selected Cancer Research Projects.

To learn more about the Helen Feather Memorial Trust, visit www.helenfeathertrust.co.uk.