Page 43 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

Fuck.

How could he do this? Where would he find the strength to simply drop her off at Luke’s and not look back? How would he deal with seeing her in their building? He placed his face in his hands and breathed deeply.

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

Matt stood and reached for his bag. He pulled out a clean outfit, and just as he finished packing everything else away, the door to the bathroom opened. Steam preceded Izabel as she appeared with a towel tugged around her body, her hair wrapped up in another on her head.

He should have followed her in there. They could have made love in the shower.

He shook his head and walked to the bathroom, taking in the uncertain look in Izabel’s face. Unable to resist, he stroked her cheek. “Still beautiful, Iz,” he whispered softly as he headed for the shower.

The plentiful hot water did little to ease his melancholy mood. The room smelled of her, of her shampoo, of the body lotion she wore that made her skin so soft he could still feel it beneath his fingers. He ignored his dick and focused on the practicalities of the next four hours. Lunch with Gemma and her family. Putting on a smile and an act for Harry for two hours, followed by another two hours in the car, just the two of them.

When he’d dried off, he tucked the towel around his waist and walked into the bedroom where Izabel was stuffing her clothes into her case, the complete opposite to the way she’d lovingly unpacked everything the night they’d arrived.

She wore a pretty sundress in red with white polka dots. Her wet hair had been braided, and she wore no makeup beyond a slick of red lip gloss.

“I texted Gemma and told her I was too hungover for lunch. I can’t pretend in front of Harry today. And pretending will just prolong the agony. Can we just go home, Matt?”

Matt tugged her to him. “I didn’t mean for all this to make you sad, and I’m not sorry it happened. But I am sorry the way you feel right now means you don’t want to see Gemma and Ollie.”

Izabel swiped beneath her eye, furiously. “Goddamn tears. Shit.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. I just ... the rules were clear. Lots of reasons you and I can’t do this. Jase. Luke. Your focus on music. But now I know what it could be like, not having it hurts even more.”

“I told you I was a selfish prick.”

“No, Matt. You weren’t. You aren’t. And that’s the problem. I forced you to listen to me, about Jase. It already hurts. So, please. Take me home.”

He hugged her one last time, felt her sigh in his arms, then let her go.

That was it.

That was the last time he’d feel her body against his or feel her breath on his chest.

Death surely wouldn’t feel worse than he did right now. He prayed they wouldn’t see anyone on the way out of the hotel, because his emotions simmered way too close to the surface.

He settled the bill over the phone, then carried all their bags out to his car. Thankfully, everyone must have been tied up at lunch.

The ride home was quiet beyond the playlist he’d put on to break the silence. For perhaps the first time in history, the M6 was clear, allowing him space to ignore the speed limit. He probably broke several speeding laws, but at this point, he didn’t care.

Izabel closed her eyes, but he had a strong suspicion she was faking being asleep. Her eyes would twitch, and occasionally she’d tap her foot to a song. He sang along just to stop himself from looking over at her.

The band had a five-gig mini tour down south the following week. It had been organised by an events co-ordinator he’d been introduced to, each venue holding anywhere up to a thousand people. They weren’t all sold out, but it would be a decent earner. They’d likely make about ten grand, making it their most successful mini tour yet.

But more importantly, he would be sharing a room with Luke.

A plan began to formulate in his mind. A plan where maybe he floated the idea of him and Izabel. Maybe the last night of the tour, after they’d played, because he didn’t want to jeopardise their earnings in the event Luke lost his shit. The last thing they needed was to piss off the new event planner. The gigs he’d gotten them were solid, and he was already talking about similar five-day events in Scotland and the Midlands. Nice earners.

Shit. But then he’d still have to deal with Jase, who was bound to have an opinion about them.

In the event it caused a split in the band, it would take forever to get a new band started from the ground up or recreate himself as a solo artist, which he wasn’t even sure he wanted.

He wanted to lose Izabel even less.

No, he needed some distance from her to figure out what was best.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he pulled into the parking lot, discretely squeezing her knee. “Iz, sweetheart. You need to wake up and perk up. Your brother is out here washing his van.”

---