Heart of Stone

Chapter Thirty-Six: Feeling Charitable

With only chords played on the piano, Ed's vocals controlled the tune, every word so clear that you couldn't fail to follow. There was no backing music to disguise any wrong notes, but he sang each line to perfection, his voice holding strong. When he reached the chorus, he was belting out the lyrics with such power that goose bumps prickled my arms.

Even the fans stayed silent—they didn't know the lyrics, of course, but they'd cheered and screamed along with all his other songs tonight. It was as if everyone wanted to hang on to his every word.

And for me, each word hit harder than the last, until I could no longer suppress the tears that dropped onto the back of my hand.

*

"I'm still so pissed off that Pete stood me up," Faye said as we meandered through the streets to the station.

Being first into the arena had its disadvantages: we were the last out. Groups of fans singing Ed's songs echoed off the tall buildings around us, many of our fellow concertgoers eager to prolong their night rather than catch a train and finish it.

I, on the other hand, regretted coming and couldn't wait to get home. Seeing Ed again had reopened my fragile wounds and poured a large helping of salt onto them. And that was before I'd endured three minutes of brutal lyrics about me...

"Pete sounds like a dick," I said to Faye.

"Hm. Hey, if I break up with him, will you give me James' number?"

I cast her a sideways glance, confused. "Who's James?"

"James Bond."

I rolled my eyes. "No, absolutely not."

"Does he have a girlfriend? Oh my god, is he the reason you and Teddy broke up?"

"What? No. Of course not. We weren't even together."

As she mulled that over, a black SUV pulled up to the kerb and the tinted rear window lowered. At first I thought that I was imagining it—that my obsession with seeing him again had evolved into hallucinations. But then Faye grabbed my wrist, squeezing so tight that she nearly cut off the blood supply.

"Want a lift?" Ed asked.

It was the first thing he'd said to me since March, and I resented the way my stomach cartwheeled and my heart jolted. Even though he'd directed the offer towards both of us, my pride kicked in.

"We're walking to the station. It's not far—"

"We'd love a lift," Faye said, interrupting me.

The door clicked open, and Faye hopped inside without hesitation. I dithered on the pavement. Weeks had passed without us speaking, so this offer had to have an ulterior motive attached to it.

When Faye raised an impatient eyebrow at me, though, I swallowed my pride. It wouldn't be long before people noticed the very expensive car and began to swarm, and I couldn't deal with that on top of everything else. I climbed into the back and smoothed down my dress as I sat opposite Ed in one of the rear-facing seats. So close that I could touch him, inhale his familiar spicy scent, lean across and kiss him if I wanted...

I didn't, obviously, not least because he'd plastered on his charming smile for Faye.

"Sorry to hear about the mix-up with your tickets," he said.

Of course he'd heard about that. Thanks, Mark.

"It worked out well in the end," she replied, beaming. "No harm done."

Ed leaned back in his seat, extending his legs towards me until I could feel the scratch of denim against my bare calves. Although his eyes remained on Faye, I wondered if it was a deliberate power move. He'd invited us into the car for a reason, but I couldn't yet work out whether it was to bury the hatchet or make me suffer.