Page 14 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

Jase glanced at his watch. “I can’t let him down ninety minutes before I’m supposed to start after I said yes.”

“But you’ll let the band down?”

Jase rolled his eyes. “Relax. It’s not like my opinion counts for shit. We end up doing it your way anyway.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is, Matt. Your songs, your arrangements. And you don’t really like feedback. Maybe from Luke. So, you go rehearse, then come back to me and tell me what you need me to sing. And in the meantime, I’ll go earn my rent.”

“No. You’ll go—”

“Matt. Get away from your brother and sit down before I spank the pair of you.”

Matt eyed his brother, but for Nan’s sake, stepped away as Jase’s words penetrated his anger.

Maybe he did want control.

Maybe he did things his way.

But he didn’t always get what he wanted.

Because if he did, Iz would be sitting down with him at Nan’s table with them.

And he’d be going to the wedding as her boyfriend for real.

Not her pretend one.

3

Instinctively, Izabel ran her fingers through the end of her hair. She took a deep breath and straightened her blouse—a pretty, pale pink one because Matt had once commented how the colour suited her—and then picked a speck of cotton off her favourite soft denim jeans. Then she raised her hand and knocked on Matt’s apartment door.

She hadn’t been up to his apartment since the day Luke had helped him move in, when Izabel had made them sandwiches for lunch. Later that evening, Luke had made it clear he didn’t want her hanging around any of his bandmates on her own, even though her only mistake had been with Jase.

She’d wanted to be angry with him, but ironically, she’d understood. She’d already made one huge mistake; how could she be trusted to not make another?

He’d be mad if he knew she was up here now, and she planned to sneak out through the back exit of the building on the off chance he was looking out of the window when she finally left the building.

Izabel glanced down at her watch. Five minutes to seven. It was early, but she needed to be at the shelter by eight. She’d put a yoghurt and banana in one of her bags to eat on the go. In her other bag was a huge haul of fresh socks she’d been able to convince a wholesaler to donate to the shelter.

Impatient, she hammered on the door again. Perhaps he wasn’t home. Perhaps he’d stayed out all night. Wait. What if he was with someone? Oh, God. She should have messaged him and arranged a time. And now she was thinking about logistics while trying to bury the ache that filled her whenever she thought of him with anyone else.

Crap.

She looked down the hallway. Did she have enough time to run to the elevators before . . .?

“What the fuck, Iz?” Matt grumbled as he yanked the door open.

He ran his hand across his face, then through his hair, which stood up in all directions. His eyes were bleary, struggling to open properly, and grey jogging pants hung low on his hips. Too low on his hips. And, dear lord, the outline they revealed made her itch to slide them down just a couple of extra inches.

Extra inches.

Of which Matt appeared to have plenty.

“I’m sorry,” she said, focusing on his face. “I just really needed to talk to you.”

Matt stepped back to let her in. “Coffee?”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

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