Page 26 of How Good It Was (Excess All Areas 3)

No, he wouldn’t yield. He’d feel like a bell-end standing in Manchester Airport pretending to be surprised to see her while people watched them.

“Good. First, the paint store.” He grabbed his wallet, sunglasses, and the keys to the van.

“Wait,” she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Come stand next to me. The light’s good.”

Luke rolled his eyes but did as she said.

Willow angled the camera, but instead of taking a photo, she pressed record, stepped up onto her toes and kissed his cheek, then grinned. She almost knocked him over in her enthusiasm. He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “There. Can we go now?”

“Perfect. You’re a natural at this, Luke.”

“Whatever.” But one corner of his mouth turned upward.

Willow walked alongside him to the van parked around the back of the flats. She stopped dead. “This is your car?”

“Yeah. Carries all the band equipment.”

Her nose was scrunched up. “Don’t you have another car? Like a proper one?”

“It’s got an engine, a steering wheel, four tires, and a valid MOT certificate. I think that pretty much defines a vehicle.”

“But it’s so ...”

“Roadworthy? Utilitarian? Cheap to run? Well maintained because Ben is a mechanic? We can’t all be wealthy child stars, flower.”

“Which is why as soon as you sign the contract, I can sort that out for you.”

Luke opened the door for her. “Get in, before I change my mind about painting.”

“But this is a fixable problem, Luke.”

He waited for her to climb inside. “It’s not a problem that needs fixing.” He slammed the door shut, then walked to his side of the van.

When he climbed in, he took a deep breath before he turned to face her. “We couldn’t be more different if we tried.”

Willow studied his face, and he wondered what she saw there. “I’m beginning to see that. Do you want me to just go?”

Luke shook his head. He was pretty sure that here was better for her than whatever she’d head back to. “I’m worried that what you want is superficial. A bigger place. A better car. A posh hotel.”

She sighed and rested her elbow on the window. “Don’t conflate what I do for a living with who I am.”

“Shouldn’t those two things be the same?”

“Maybe I should leave. It would be better to know now that this isn’t going to work than do this weird dance we seem to be doing, where I feel like you’re in until you’re out.”

“I’m thinking out loud. Exploring shit. Seeing what all this adds up to. I’m a simple guy, Willow. My life isn’t social media worthy. I don’t give a shit about aesthetics or a million followers. I’d rather be real with a battered van than fake with a Mercedes that I don’t own.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “I feel like this might be the reason you won’t want to do this three months from now—a life on display. I’m not a very good judge of people. I only just realised my own father ripped me off. I worry I won’t see the fallout with you coming when you figure out that me, the baby, this deal adds up to nothing. I worry that one day, months from now, you’ll let me down.”

Beneath all the worry was a sharp bite of loss. It would hurt if it all really added up to nothing. “I guess you’re just going to have to trust me that we’ll figure this out. I’m not out, Willow. I’m just trying to figure out how we both stay in.”

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