The Arch of Love ~ Paul McCartney

14. More than words can say

A/n when your most played songs of 2019 on Spotify are all the songs in the playlist I made for this story. Oops? 

Also I have never written more words in one week than this past week; I've written over 10.000 words in just 5 days. I'm telling you, Archie is forcing me to write her story. 

Paul P.O.V.

St John's Wood, 22 April '67, 12:55 PM

After that weekend I spent with Archie, I had been really confused. Ritchie's words had done something to me. They had found their way into my mind, swirling around and making the place their home. They settled in on the couch with a beer in hand as if they had been their all their lives. I wanted to tell them to fuck off, but they wouldn't listen.

I was confused. And what does a confused bass player do after the drummer of his band finds out about his affair, you ask? He flies off to Los Angeles to surprise his girlfriend to see if that gave him any clarity. But no. It only messed with my mind more. As if Ritchie's words hadn't messed me up enough.

John had given me hell about it, too. Said I was a right one, to push Archie out of the door, wash her traces of my body and then fly out to Jane. He really wasn't one to talk. I mean, he didn't even shower after seeing that strange Japanese bird.

After my week in Los Angeles was up, I flew back to rainy London, while Jane stayed behind. She didn't finish filming for another week! And now she was home and ready to leave within three days.

'Why do you have to go?' I whined. I didn't want her to go. It wasn't fair nor fun. Couldn't she just stay here?

'Because I've got to work, Paul,' Jane answered, whilst she walked around our bedroom, packing the bags she had only just unpacked.

'Do you?' I asked, raising my eyebrows. 'Do you honestly have to work so far away? Because I don't think you have to.'

'That is hardly fair, is it?' she protested, throwing a shirt I'm pretty sure was mine, into the suitcase. 'You went off for months on end with the band, no questions asked. But when it's me going away for work, it's suddenly a problem?' She huffed loudly, making me raise my eyebrows.

'Come on, Jane. You know we stopped touring to be closer to our families. To me, that's you! And now you're away all the time.'

'Stop moaning like a little baby. You know I'm an actress. If I have a job in America, that's where I'll go. You can come with me,' she offered, even though we both knew that was out of the question.

'Don't even bother!' I sneered. 'I just need you home with me. Is it too much to ask to have my girlfriend home with me?' I threw up my arms in anger and defeat.

'It's not, but it's just not possible right now. Can't we please not talk about it right now?' she begged, walking over to me and trying to take my hands.

I shrugged her off. 'Then when should we talk about it? You're never here!' I burst out, a bit louder than I intended, but it did the job.

I saw the hurt on Jane's face, but for once it didn't actually bother me too much. Good. She should know what I felt when she went off all the time.

'Paul...' she started, but I didn't let her finish.

'Don't bother, Jane. I'll see you when you're back, I guess,' I spit out, after which I stormed out of the house, only stopping to grab my car keys. I was out of the house and in my car in a matter of seconds. Twenty more and I was speeding off, away from my house.

How could she be so selfish? Just weeks after I flew halfway across the world to surprise her, too. She didn't have to work and she knew it. And even if she wanted to, she didn't have to go to America all the time. Why couldn't she just find an acting job here in London. That way she could just come home every night.