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.”
Stryker had told them there had been some lingering dates that hadn’t sold out until the Sad Fridays had been added to the line-up. In the days since the announcement, the tickets had been snapped up. And here they were, an opening act, playing to a sold-out crowd.
In a big arena. And Cardiff had given them a royal Welsh welcome.
He glanced over to the side of the stage where Chaya was dancing and watching them. Matt wished it was as easy as calling Izabel and telling her to get on the train and come to him. She was the missing piece in his happiness puzzle, the one person who made everything else fall into place. Because despite all the success, he was still unsettled.
Matt jumped down off the drum platform, walking to the edge of the stage as his fingers played the last few notes of their final song. It never got old, looking out at a full arena. The energy of it crawled beneath his skin. Another reason he wished Izabel was here. He wanted her to see it.
He raised his hand in thanks and followed Ben off the stage.
“You were amazing as always,” Chaya said, throwing her hands around Ben’s neck in a purely platonic gesture.
Ben put his hands around her waist and carried her, her legs dangling, as he walked off the stage.
“You ever wonder if those two will get together?” Luke asked pointing the neck of the beer bottle in his hand in Ben and Chaya’s direction. His words a little slurred. His footsteps unsteady.
“If it was going to happen, you think it would have by now? Plus, her dad isn’t going to let her marry Ben.”
Luke shook his head. “Can’t imagine what that feels like.” He took two towels from a stack at the side of stage and handed one to Matt who wiped his face and dropped the towel around his neck.
The difference with this show was Stryker’s road crew were helping them with their equipment. Given they’d join the tour so quickly, they’d not had time to find a crew of their own.
“I’m feeling kinda shitty I’m not around for Izabel’s birthday tomorrow. Think I’m going to invite her to the Liverpool gigs. Do you think Jase will be a dick about it? I don’t want Izabel feeling shitty on her birthday. She deserves to be here.”
Matt’s stomach tripped at the idea of seeing her. He calmed himself before he spoke and tried not to let his excitement at the idea bubble over. “Jase has been on a bit more of an even keel since all this took off. I think a bit of financial stability is good for all of us. I can try and have a word if you like. Or maybe Alex would be better. He seems to get through to Jase when I can’t.”
Luke nodded. “Alright. I’m gonna ask her. She shouldn’t get to miss out on this just because your brother was a dick.”
The excitement he’d felt at seeing Izabel was drowned by the cold water of Luke’s words. Mention of Jase and Izabel still made his stomach curdle, and the frustration in Luke’s voice, even after all the time had passed, made him think Luke would never take the news of their relationship well.
“Yeah. It would be a shame for her to not experience this.” Matt turned and looked back at the stage. “I still can’t believe we get to do this, to be honest.”
“You think this is going to last?”
Matt watched Alex and Jase talking to three girls backstage. His brother glanced in his direction and flipped him the bird, but the grin on his face reminded Matt of when their nan had given them a PlayStation for Christmas the year Matt turned thirteen. They’d played each other for ten hours straight, breaking for turkey and the Queen’s speech Nan had insisted on watching. “I don’t know. I hope so. I know everyone is hoping for a big payday at the end of the month, but I think we should be cautious. Thought it might be good to hire someone to take over our social media. Hire a better producer. Invest to level up rather than pay out.”
“We need a band meeting then, to sort shit out, but I’m too pissed to talk business right now. Do you see the red-head I was talking to before the gig?”
“Talking to?” Matt laughed and shook his head. “Not since you removed your tongue from down her throat to go on stage.”
Luke grinned. “Hoping I’ll have something else down her throat later.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “For fucks’ sake. That’s too much info.”
“Says the guy who’s suddenly taken on the role of monk. What’s up with that?”
Well, Luke, I’m fucking your sister and her pussy is so tight and warm that the idea of fucking any of the groupies hanging around just pales into insignificance.
“I’m not a monk. Just not feeling banging some chick for the sake of it.”
“Fuck. Wait. Forgot about that dinner thing I walked in on Monday. Looked pretty damn domestic. Candle girl. Screamed high romance expectations.”
“Yeah, candle girl. Anyway, someone has to take care of all our shit while you guys shove your dicks into anything warm.”
Luke shrugged. “Not everything warm. I mean, I have standards.”
“Standards that seem to change with the more pints you’ve had.”
“Whatever. Oh, shit. There she is. Gotta go.”
“I’ll be in the bus.” Matt watched Luke has he jogged over to the woman who threw her arms around his neck. He was pretty sure Luke didn’t hear him or give a shit either way.
Once on board, he made his way to his bunk. The bus was the most basic tour bus version. Jase had been pissed off when he’d seen it, having envisioned they’d go from Luke’s van to something plush and luxurious. The bunks were narrow. There was no fancy bedroom at the back. And there was a toilet and sink but no shower, not that he’d ever want to take one while traveling down the motorway. You’d been one crash away from the world seeing your naked soaped up goods on the M6.
He climbed on board, glad he’d made the decision to bring his own pillow from home, the one Izabel slept on when they’d been able to steal a moment or night in his bed. He climbed into his bunk and pulled the privacy curtain shut before he pulled out his phone.
Izabel answered after the second ring. “How did you know I was thinking about you?”
“Cosmic all-knowingness. How was your day, sweetheart? And tell me why you were thinking about me.”
“I think I’m going to do it.”
“If it involves anything remotely sexual, I’m in.”
“Matt,” she teased. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re too far away to do anything about it.”
“Hey, you want to get naked with me over video, I’m game.”
“Stop. I need to talk to you about something else.”
“What are you going to do, babe?”
“The gig. I spent the day pretending I was writing content for Gemma, but I researched all the venues in the city big enough to making this happen and fired off an email to all of their booking people. I outright said it would need to be a donation. They are all going to say no, I know it. But at least I did it.”
“Don’t think negative. Think positive and will it into being.”
“I’m going to propose it to Luke, so it doesn’t look like I went around him to you. But I’d love if you could support it if he suggests it to the band. You guys are riding high right now, and like you said, I think we could get local bands, maybe even some bigger bands to lend a hand. The Albert Hall seats two thousand two hundred. The O2 Apollo seats three and a half thousand. And if we think really big, the Central Convention Complex seats nearly eleven thousand. My basic maths says we could raise a quarter of a million for the shelter.”
“That’s amazing!”
“I thought about what you said. I’m good at persuading people to pitch in.”
“I have faith in you, Iz. You’re ready for the leap from some dried goods to an arena.”
Izabel grinned. “Yes, but with you already on board, I already have an anchor.”
His heart squeezed at just how fucking good of a human being she was. “Speak to Luke. Tell him we tossed the idea around at the wedding if you like. Say we could be the draw rather than the support or something.”
“Okay. I’m going to call him.”
“Hate to say it, but he might be a bit busy.”
Izabel groaned. “Well, I’m just going to keep ringing until he gets his dick back in his pants and answers. Speak to you later. Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
He hung up the phone.
Fuck.
He’s just told Iz he loved her. Casually. Without any big fuss. Without either of them even acknowledging it. His phone buzzed.
Did you just tell me you love me? Or was that an accident?
Matt grinned.
I just told you I loved you.
He got a GIF of a fist bump in return, and he looked at it at least twelve times, grinning each time, before the rest of the band got on the bus.