Page 47 of The First Chord

Of course, nothing was happening between Ronnie and I, but the moments of realisation, that we could be more, were increasing. Glances across a room, brief touches of our hands, shared jokes all made my heart stutter and gave me butterflies in my stomach.

Just like now, I would think about Jimmy and anxiously replay the times we’d had together. The memories of us exchanging our wedding vows and enjoying a holiday in Spain mixed with those of him flaunting other women, getting high, and ultimately punching me. The last vision was always that one. The one which was a full stop on our marriage and our relationship, and the chapter titledAmber & Jimmyin Jimmy Fox’s autobiography.

Crossing my legs, I gasped as my foot touched Ronnie’s bare leg, the hairs tickling my toes, and he almost jumped in the air.

“God, sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Honestly, it’s fine.”

There was no cocky rockstar, just a man blushing because a girl had touched his leg with her bare foot.

Trying not to think about what our reactions might mean I went back to my breakfast. As I did a thousand times a day, I wondered what I could do to speed up time. Then I would be in the cottage or on tour and I wouldn’t be living in a house with a man who I didn’t want to leave. One emotion I wasn’t feeling, though, weirdly, was heartbreak because my marriage was dead.

Torn didn’t begin to describe how I was feeling. Ripped apart was possibly a better description, leaving me feeling like a shabby old rag doll, fraying at the edges.

“No word on the cottage?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t sounding impatient or petulant.

Ronnie shook his head but continued looking down at his phone. “Nah. Apparently he’s hit a snag with the place he’s buying.”

“So, you haven’t heard from him, but you know that?”

He flashed me a quick smile. “Yeah, his solicitor called mine.”

“Okay.” I carried on eating my muesli, surreptitiously watching Ronnie read his phone. He got a little line between his eyes when he was concentrating, and the tip of his tongue poked out which was cute. What was weirdly sexy, though, was when he pursed his lips and rubbed them slowly with two fingertips. I always imagined what it would feel like having those rough pads touching my lips, or anywhere on my body to be honest.

“Amber.”

My head shot up at the sound of Ronnie calling my name. “Sorry.”

“Toast is ready if you want some.” He was pushing a plate of toast towards me. I must have been so caught up in my daydreams that I hadn’t realised he’d even got up from the table. Shaking my head, I reached for a piece and once again my fingers connected with his.

This time we both let them linger and as our gazes locked on each other, I felt the air rush from my lungs. We were barely touching yet my body felt like it was on fire. That flame was running through my veins again.

I opened my mouth to speak but had no clue what to say. “Ronnie.” Was all I could manage.

He responded with a whispered, “Amber.”

Swallowing, I searched his face for something that told me what to do. Whether he was also feeling like his heart was about to pump its way out of his chest. Whether he had a million butterflies in his stomach or whether there were little beads of sweat at his hairline at the back of his neck.

Opening my mouth to ask, I was stopped short when my phone started to shrill out. Shocked back into the moment, I blindly grabbed for it and answered.

“Hello.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The sound of Jimmy’s voice almost brought my muesli back. The heat I’d been feeling moments before was quickly replaced with a cold shiver of trepidation. My hand began to shake, and I had to grab my wrist with my other hand to avoid accidently throwing my phone across the table.

“Amber, are you listening to me?” Jimmy snapped.

“W-what do you want?”

I tried to put some steel into my voice, to show the anger that I was feeling, but at that moment fear was the stronger emotion. Shame at feeling like that hit me. He’d punched me once and slapped my face, some women had to live with that danger for years and were probably stronger than I was.

“Amber.” This time my name was softer and whispered.

I looked up to see Ronnie staring at me with a frown. “Who is it?” His eyes widened as it suddenly dawned on him. “Give me the phone, Amber. Let me speak to the fucker.”

The fear fell away and was quickly replaced by anger. I shook my head. “What the hell do you want, Jimmy? Because I have nothing that I want to say to you.”

---