Page 125 of Next Time I Fall (Excess All Areas 2)

“I look forward to all those firsts too.”

Jase reached between them and carefully eased out of her, before tucking her close. “What are your firsts?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to think. First house together. That would be a big one. First album release. First pet.”

“We’re getting a pet?”

“Maybe when things are a bit more stable. It would be unfair to get one now when we don’t know how much we will end up away from it.”

Jase nodded. “Okay. I got you a first studio warming present.” He reached for his phone. “Here.”

She looked at the image, her mouth and eyes wide open. “You got me the Herman Miller chair I wanted?”

“I looked at Tiffany jewellery, and then I thought about a long weekend in Lisbon, but I know you don’t have time right now. And I know you keep looking at it. Heck, I even saw you touch the screen last week.”

“But it’s so expensive.”

“So, it’s the first expensive gift I bought you. Plus, I knew you wouldn’t buy it for yourself. Think of it as a promise ring you can sit on.”

Cerys threw her arms around him and squealed. “You bought me a freaking chair, and I love it.”

“Not as much as I love you.”

* * *

“Where’s that man of yours?” Zoe asked a month later as they moved the main recording studio piano to a more central position.

Cerys stopped shoving the piano for a moment to sign. “He’s gone to pick up Mum from the train station, then drop her stuff at our house before he heads over here with her.”

“Looking out for your mum. I love it. What else can I do to get this wrapped up?”

“There are still a bunch of boxes, the microphones,” she signed, spelling out the word whose sign she couldn’t remember. “It came in this morning in the rehearsal space downstairs. If you could collapse them and hide them somewhere in my office, because it’s a hike to the bins outside.”

“I’m on it,” Zoe said and disappeared down the hallway.

Cerys took a last walk through the Bexter Studios UK building. The old commercial building on Lever Street looked so different from the day she’d received the keys and was now perfect for what they needed. The additional benefit was it was only a ten-minute walk to the shelter Izabel worked at and they’d often meet at the Foundation Coffee House for lunch.

To say Jimmy had given her free rein might have been a stretch, but she’d come up with the ideas, presented them to him, and he’d made suggestions. They also had a financial plan with targets she needed to hit as the studio manager and producer. While it was hers to run, it was a business unit in the Bexter empire with all the responsibilities that came with it.

Grace from The Outhouse Florist fluffed the flower arrangements dotted around the studio. All whites and greens, the same as the giant candles and balloons. It was totally over the top, but Izabel had introduced her to Rachel, an event planner who had helped her out with a charity concert she’d organised, and Rachel had gone all out in decorating the place, and helping her create an opening guest list that would create a media stir.

With a happiness that seeped through every pore, Cerys stepped into the production area.

“I like your pick of audio interface,” her father said, taking her seat at the mixing desk.

Her seat.

The expensive Herman Miller chair she had debated over for so long that Jase had gone out and bought for her, and then dramatically set fire to the receipt the day it arrived so she couldn’t return it. She pretended not to remember he’d ordered it online.

“I liked the two-in, six-out interface when I was in your studio, but there’s something about the quality of this model that called to me. I felt it kept the grit of sound intact.”

Jimmy Bexter smiled. “Don’t lose that.”

“Don’t lose what?”

He shrugged. “Your gut instinct. Your ear for sound. Your ability to stand up to me.”

Cerys faced him. “In fairness, you were never around to put me in place as a kid, so I don’t feel like I need to fall in line with you as an adult.”

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