Page 33 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

“Yes, I’m drunk. But right now, there is no Luke, no band, no Jase. There’s just you and me and a huge bathroom. I wanted you, Matt. And youneverwanted me back. And I don’t know why, because it could always be like this if you wanted me too.”

“I did, Iz.” Matt realised he’d yelled the words. “I did,” he repeated softly. “When you and Jase ... well, after everything exploded between Luke and Jase, Luke was gutted. My best friend. Losing your dad almost broke him. And I thought you and Jase might too. I realised I’d been young and stupid and thought you’d always be there for me, because I was a selfish prick too. Sowing wild oats while you waited. I figured give it a few years, get some success under our belts, and Luke would chill out on his rules, but Jase just made them worse. Your brother is my best fucking friend, my co-writer. He said he’d quit the band if Jase went near you again. I couldn’t risk it. You think I’m here because I felt like a trip to the Lake District? I’m here because I was selfish enough to think two days of make-believe about how it could have been with you would be enough to satisfy my curiosity.”

“And has it been so far?” Izabel placed her hands on his biceps, the heat from her palms seeped through the cotton of his shirt.

“No, Iz. It’s nowhere near enough.” He placed his hands on the counter on either side of her and hung his head a hair’s breadth from hers. It would take nothing to kiss her, just like he had been all evening. But here, in the bathroom, they’d both know it was real. “Why Jase, Iz? Of all the men on the planet, why did you have to give up on me with my brother? With the one man who would sleep with you to spite me?”

“He didn’t do it to spite you.”

Matt lifted his head. “What do you mean?”

“It’s why I’ve always defended him.” Izabel swallowed and raised her gaze to his. “He told me he loved me. He told me he’d been waiting formeto seehim, just like I’d been waiting for you to see me. I used him to take the pain away of you leaving with that redhead. I slept with him anyway.”

“I really don’t want to hear the details of how you and my brother fucked. You’re pushing me.”

Izabel put her hand on his cheek. “I know. But you need to hear this. In the morning, in the hazy half-light between dreams and being awake, Jase made love to me, and I called out your name. I’d dreamt about you, and somewhere between those dreams and Jase taking me in his arms, I forgot who I was with. Or I pretended it was you. I’m not even sure.”

Emotions circled wildly through him. Anger burned through his veins at her for sleeping with Jase, with Jase for taking advantage of her when she was so low. But, Christ, a part of him soared. The only brother she’d thought of was him. He didn’t want to hear the rest, but he knew he needed to know. Perhaps understanding would help him finally put the issue to bed. “Go on,” he said, gruffly.

Izabel leaned back against the mirror. “He stopped. But instead of being angry, he looked ... devastated. I apologised. He’d thought it was the start of something more for the two of us. I told him it wasn’t, that it had been a mistake.”

Matt placed his hands on Izabel’s knees, sliding them just beneath the hem of her dress. “Why was it a mistake?”

“Because I’d been in love with you since my fifteenth birthday, when you bought me those gold studs from the money you earned working with Uncle Allan over the Christmas holidays. Maybe I read more into the gift than you meant, but I imagined you putting them in for me. For your fingers to intentionally touch me. And in my dreams, those fingers got bolder and bolder. I had my first orgasm to thoughts of you. But then I realised you didn’t think of me like that. You saw me as a little sister, not a girlfriend.”

Confusion wrapped around him. He was turned on at the thought of her touching herself, yet her words pierced his heart and the song idea from the bar flitted through his brain again. The scars men leave on women’s hearts. Was he just as guilty? Had he made her think she wasn’t enough for him? “Izabel.”

“Yeah. I know. We can’t fix it. Jase left after I told him what I just told you. Catastrophe unfolded. Luke and Jase fought. New band rules keeping me from hanging around you guys. I know. It’s just ...”

“It’s just what?” He needed to know, needed to hear the words from her like a masochist waiting for the next crack of the whip.

“What kept me away from Jase also kept me away from you, and it really hurt. I wish I could go back and change that night. I wish I could say I’m over the repercussions. I wish I’d been more straightforward with you about how I felt. Because, perhaps, if I had, we could let this mean something instead of pretending it doesn’t.”

She reached for him, putting her forehead on his shoulder, and cried. Cried as if she were breaking inside. And he clung to her because pieces of him were breaking too.

6

Matt sat in the seat he’d been assigned by one of the ushers, taking in the glorious view and sunshine. The peaks around the lake were a lush, verdant green. The sun reflected off Lake Windermere, the surface so calm it looked like glass. A complete contrast to the churning in his gut.

We could let this mean something instead of pretending it doesn’t.

They’d barely spoken another word to each other since then. Izabel had pulled away from him, splashed water on her face, and then slipped into her nightdress while he’d used the bathroom. He’d made her drink one of the bottles of water and take two paracetamol to start an early defence against the hangover she was bound to have after drinking so much and then crying like her heart would never recover.

Too exhausted to think about where to sleep, he’d grabbed one of the soft plush robes and slept on the other side of the bed, on top of the covers, to prevent any accidental spooning. By the time he woke, her side of the bed was cold, and he was as stiff as a board after sleeping with his arms crossed tight over his chest like Dracula in his coffin. By lunch, he’d jerked off thinking about her lips on his, showered, and had a pint to take the edge off his hangover.

But Izabel’s words still rang through his mind.

Over and over and over.

He forced himself to look at her, more beautiful than the view outside, in the pale lavender gown with its sweet halter neck.

She was looking at him with a longing that ate away at the marrow of his bones. Her hair was half-up, half-down, blonde curls spiralling down her back. Her makeup was soft, natural even. No sign of a hangover. But the look in her eyes. Men had died for a look like that.

Goddamn.

He was fucked.

He should go home. Leave her with the cash to get the train back in the morning. He could take all her work bags home with him and dump them at Luke’s, so she only had her case. But then he’d have to explain to Luke why he left her.

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