Page 47 of You Belong With Me

Edie felt foolish saying it, even though it wasn’t, in this context, foolish. He’d had about six number one hits andcurrently had a Vegas residency. His Radio Two friendly balladeering wasn’t to Edie’s taste, but his success was phenomenal: no aisle walk, signing of the register, or wedding reception was safe from him. The press loved the story: from Kilmarnock barman to the Scottish Sinatra, residing in Beverly Hills.

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh my God,Cameron McAllisteris one of your best mates! That’s insane. Isn’t he … a bit of a twat?’

Edie was being mildly provocative because she felt a minor quease, strangely akin to when a woman tried it on with Elliot. There was so much she didn’t know about him. He wasn’t only hers; he was many other things to many other people.

‘A twat how?’

‘An arrogant womaniser who leaves a trail of female devastation in his wake.’

‘He has a lot of casual flings, yeah, but no shortage of offers, so I’m not sure it’s a vice, per se, just a lifestyle. He won’t play the PR game when something has run its course, so the press always brands him a cad. The truth is he got dumped by his first big forever love at twenty and it destroyed him, and every woman since is him trying to find her tribute act. Or hoping his ex will notice.’

‘Ahhh, the old sad shagger alibi. I’m only doing it because of the hole in my soul, honey. Now pop your thong off.Hahaha.’

‘You slag my friend off for things you’ve seen in gossip magazines, and I give you necessary, painful personal context, and you have evenmoreof a go at him?’

‘Kidding.’

‘Didn’t you say I was a total loser who looked like a “trainee barista” before you knew me?’

‘Hahaha. I changed my mind. You can draw all the hearts in my lattes.’

‘Yeah, eatenanddrunk your words there, eh? Now pleading with me for an extra shot in your macchiato.’

Elliot gave her a knowing look at his emphasis onpleading, and Edie flushed: he was breaking thethings that never get discussed after the factrule.

‘Stop there, please.’

‘Hmm, as I recall at the time it wasplease don’t stop, Elliot…’ He smiled at her scowl. ‘Anyway … Cam’s one of those hardcore heartbreak cases where he says he wishes she’d hurry up and get married and have kids so his hope could be definitively snuffed out, not wafting around still single but not choosing him. Every song is about her.’

‘Even the one about the girl who sleeps with his best friend and he forgives her, and she leaves him for the friend in the end anyway?’

The women at Ad Hoc had been known to well up over it on the radio. Call her a cynic, but Edie thought treating shagging your best mate as a verbal warning not an instant dismissal was destined for doom. DFD, as Elliot had once called it.

‘Especially that one.’

‘Oof.’

‘He’s written a song about us actually, you know. It’s probably going to be a single.’

Edie felt faint. ‘No way! You’re winding me up … Oh my God, really?’

‘We were having a heart to heart, and I said I had to go and see you, because I didn’t know if every day that passed was the one where you’d meet the next person and I’d lose you. I didn’t know which day was the last time I had any chance. He goes, “Oh hell that’s a song,” and next thing I know, he’s playing me “Last Time”.’ Elliot put his head on one side. ‘Not all of his stuff is my thing, but it is quite good, to be fair.’

‘Speechless,’ Edie said. ‘Can’t wait for the women at Ad Hoc who hate me to wave lighters to it at the O2.’

‘They still hate you for the wedding thing?’

‘The wedding thing and, I’m told by my colleague Declan, the Elliot Owen thing.’

‘Ack. Sorry.’

‘Not your fault.’

‘I have a lot to thank Cam for. He made me realise that the gruelling prospect of standing on your doorstep and telling you I’d do anything to make this work wasn’t hard, compared to not doing it.’

‘Elliot,’ Edie began, not sure what she was going to say but absolutely sure it needed saying.

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