“When we’re good, we’re great, Jake. But when we’re bad, we’re fucking horrendous. From the moment we came back into each other’s lives all we’ve managed to do is hurt one another, badly – and too many times to think of.” I exhale. “I once used to think we were meant to be together, but now … now I’m not so sure. Maybe we just wanted to be together so badly when we were younger that we tried to force it so desperately now. Maybe our time just passed long ago.”

“No,” he shakes his head vehemently. “We’re meant to be.”

He puts his other hand on my face, forcing my eyes to his.

“I’ll never be good enough for you, I know that. But I’m no good without you, and if that makes me a selfish bastard for wanting you as badly as I do then so be it because I can’t live a life that doesn’t have you in it.”

He stares deep into my eyes, breathing deeply. I can feel his hands trembling against my skin.

“Marry me,” he says without hesitation.

Every ounce of air in my lungs whooshes straight out of me, a thousand thoughts scattering across my mind.

Freeing a hand from my face, Jake reaches into his jean pocket and pulls out a ring.

The ring.

I stare at him, my eyes wide.

“I got it before we left Paris.”

It’s the pink diamond ring I was looking at in Tiffany’s the night he bought me the necklace.

“I-I can’t believe you bought it.” I’m gasping for air.

He holds the ring up between us. “I knew I’d be asking you to be my wife from the very second you walked into that hotel room and back into my life. And when I saw your face that night looking at this ring, I just knew – I knew it belonged on your finger, and I’ve been waiting for the right moment ever since to ask you. I know now is not the most romantic, or perfect time to propose.” He glances around at our dim concrete surroundings. “But now is the only time I have before I lose you for good. So I’ll ask you again…” He pulls in a deep breath. “Trudy Bennett, I love you beyond any lyrics I could ever write, or any words I could ever say. I always have, and I always will. Marry me?”

I stare at him, speechless.

My best friend. My lover. My life.

And he is my life. He always has been, even through our years apart.

Jake is all I think of, all I see when I look into my future. And tries as I might to fight being with him for fear of his life, of getting hurt by it, it simply hurts more to be without him. I see that now.

Eventually, I would have followed my heart back to him, because he is my everything.

Jake once said on stage that Jonny was the mighty in their storm, and now I see that Jake is my mighty storm. He’s broken and complex, and no one knows him like I do, or ever will. He needs me.

He’s my storm to calm. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing just that.

“Say something, Tru, please, you’re killing me here.” His voice is painted with nerves, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Just say anything but no – don’t say no – just tell me what I need to do for you to say yes and I’ll do it. Because I can’t spend another second without you.”

I reach my hand up and touch his face, smoothing my fingers over his skin, trying to erase his fears, and the lost look in his eyes, the one which only I can see.

Then I smile.

“You don’t need to do anything. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

His face breaks into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, mirroring my own. Complete adoration in his eyes reserved only for me.

“You will?”

“I will.”

I hold my left hand up to him and halting my breath, I watch as he takes my hand and slides the ring over my knuckle, setting it to rest on my finger.

The diamond is huge against my hand.

Keeping my hand in his, Jake lifts it to his mouth and kisses the ring on my finger. Then I can’t contain my bubbling happiness any longer, and it bursts out of me in full technicolor glory and I’m grabbing his face kissing him hard, smothering him with the absolute pure love I feel for him.

“I love you so much,” he says against my lips. “I’ll never let you down again, baby. I swear. I’ll make you so happy.”

“I know,” I breathe. “I know.”

“Um…?” I hear a voice from behind Jake, and moving my mouth from his, I glance past him to see Tom here grinning at us both.

Jakes turns, taking me with him, unwilling to let me go just yet.

“What?” he says irritably to Tom.

“Well Romeo, we were just wondering if there’s any chance of you making an appearance back on stage at any point tonight? Because there are twenty thousand seriously pissed off fans out there,” he thumbs over his shoulder, “who can’t figure why the fuck you just bolted off stage like a crazy person mid-way through a song – and apparently my singing just isn’t cutting, so I’m envisaging a fuckin’ riot any minute if you don’t get your sorry ass back out on stage.”

Laughing at Tom, I slide my hands into Jake’s back pockets. “You better go finish your show.” I smile up at him.

He looks down at me reluctant.

“They paid good money to hear you sing, baby. You owe then that encore. I’ll be here waiting when you’re done. I’m not going anywhere. Remember, I promised. I’m yours now, forever.” I slide my hand out of his pocket, lifting my ring up to him.

“Forever,” he echoes, brushing my hair off my face, he kisses my lips again. “Come on then, let’s go give these people what they paid to see.”

He’s about to move when I ask him, “Are you still going to sing Hurt?”

I don’t want him to. I want him to leave that song behind now. I want us both to start afresh.

Jake rests his hands either side of my neck, touching my face with his thumbs, he tilts his head to the side. I see the flicker of memory and humour in his eyes as he shakes his head, no. “I’m thinking maybe I need a new title song, and I was thinking … I dunno.” He pushes his lip together in thought, his brow creasing. “What about … I Can’t Get No Satisfaction?”

I grin, feeling that familiar pull and heat in my belly, remembering just exactly what we did that night after all our talking was done.

“Hmm.” I scrunch my face up in thought. “Well, I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”

Spying a room which looks very much like a dressing room, I take Jake by the hand and start to lead him toward it.

Turning to Tom, I say, “Tell them he’ll back out on stage in five minutes.”

“Ten,” Jake adds from behind me.

I stop, turning, I meet his grinning eyes.

“Technically the song only lasts just short of four minutes,” I state, smiling.

“Oh, this is the unreleased extended version, Mrs. Wethers.”

“Mrs. Wethers to be,” I correct.

“Technicality,” he grins. “And one that I’ll be rectifying very soon.”

Then he sweeps me up off my feet, and squealing with laughter I let him carry me into the dressing room, closing and locking the door behind us, leaving Tom, and the rest of the world outside to wait.

Meet Jake …

Chapter One – The Hotel

I can’t fucking sit still.

Ever since Stuart told me the name of the interviewer coming this morning, I’ve been pacing around like a dickhead. My head is flipping about all over the place.

What if it’s her?

What do I say?

She might be pissed at me. I was the one who stopped contact when I moved to the States. And when I hit the big time with the band she never attempted to get in touch with me.

That’d be just like Tru to hold a twelve year grudge. She was always a feisty one.

Tru Bennett.

It might not be her.

How many Trudy Bennett’s could there be in the UK who are music journalists?

She was music first, a writer second. It has to be her.

What time is it?

I’m driving myself nuts here. I just wish she’d hurry the fuck up and get here so can put myself out of my misery.

I know I’m acting like a crazy mother fucker right now, but it’s Tru.

There was only ever her for me, and that never changed in the whole time I’ve been apart from her.

She was the only one who knew me back then, and only she could tie me up like this.

She was my best friend, the only girl I ever loved, and I’ve missed the shit out of her.

It’s times like this when I wish I wasn’t clean. I could really do with a hit right now.

Fuck. I need a smoke.

I get them out of my pocket and light one up.

“Do you want a drink?” Stuart asks walking into the living room. “Maybe a whiskey?”

“No. Yes. No.” I pull on my smoke and blow it out.

“Any conclusion on that drink yet?” Stuart says cocking his head to the side.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah you want one. Or yeah you don’t.”

“Don’t.”

“It might calm you down.” He crosses the room, heading toward the mini-bar.

“Yeah but if I have one then I might not stop.”

He gets one of those mini Diet Coke cans out and cracks it open.

Coke, that’s what I need right now, and not of the diet varity.

“This girl sure has got you freaked out.” Stuart has another drink, and draining the can, he tosses it in the trash.

I turn to him, taking a long drag of my smoke. “Because she’s not just any girl.”

“No?” Stuart raises his eyebrow.

“No.” I take another long drag, then stub it out in the ashtray. “She’s the only girl I’ve ever loved.”

“I didn’t think you did love?”

“Only the once.”

Grinning, Stuart comes over and picks the ashtray up.

I know he’s going to clean it out. He hates my smoking. I think he’s worried it will prematurely age him or something.

Gay guys. I’ll never understand them. Stuart’s cool though, he’s been with me from the start and he’s great at his job. He’s also saved my ass more times than I care to remember.

Women are my thing. I’ve never had a girlfriend. I just like to fuck. Hard. And often. Then move onto the next.

There has only ever been one girl I loved, one girl I wanted to be mine, and she might be walking through that door any minute now.

What if she looks completely different?

She used to be really beautiful. She had this amazing ass and a smoking hot body, even as a teenager. And she had the best pair of tits I had ever seen, not that I’d seen many back then, well only hers to be honest, and I only got to see them by accident when she lost her bikini one time when we were swimming. Even at thirteen she had a sizeable pair. Tru was an early developer, all for my luck.

Fuck. What if she’s married now, and has kids or something.

Whatever. Either way it’s Tru, and I need to see her.

“What if it’s not her coming?” Stuart asks walking back through, with my, yep – clean ashtray.