"Oh God, something terrible is going to happen."
Ben looked a little alarmed as he glanced over at me. "Why, love?"
"Too many good things are happening," I crossed myself and worried about Malocchio, the Evil Eye.
His face creased into an almost-smirk as he said, "I didn't realise you're superstitious."
"Please," I dragged out the word, "I'm Italian; we have tons of superstitions."
Seriously, though, there were a lot of good things happening for me. The album and three singles so far released were doing really well, both here in the UK and, strangely enough, in Canada and Australia, where Hold Back the River had reached number one and my third single, Not on My Watch, was sitting at number three, the album itself bobbing in and out of the top ten in eight countries and in the top fifty in a dozen more. Every time someone talked numbers or charts to me I crossed my fingers and touched iron, which is the Italian equivalent of knocking on wood.
We'd made two more music videos, both of them getting strong viewing numbers with CD sales increasing as a consequence.
The tour with Eleanor had been an outstanding success; each night I'd sung mostly songs from the album with two or three new ones or covers mixed in as well and Eleanor and I always did a song together, sometimes two if the demand for an encore was enthusiastic enough.
My name appeared on a Buzzfeed list of 34 British Singer-Songwriters to Discover and I'd been invited to appear at a number of musical festivals in 2014; small billing, but every appearance helped.
Ben had come to our gig in Manchester and I'd closed my set with a cover of The Hollies hit The Air That I Breathe and dedicated it to him, simply saying 'for my man' without mentioning a name. Although he'd been snapped in the audience and the photos had been all over Twitter and, subsequently, the internet, it was assumed he was there to watch the headline act and no hint of our relationship leaked out. I knew it was only a matter of time before that particular bubble would burst.
"You deserve all the good things that are happening to you; stop worrying and enjoy them."
"Stop worrying? Honestly, Cutiepatch, sometimes I think you don't know me at all."
He snickered, so I threw a cushion at him.
---
"Hey Rick, what's up?" My phone rang just as I was approaching Ben's flat the next day; I answered it as I knocked on the door.
"Are you sitting down?" was his enigmatic response.
"No, but I can be in a sec," I told him, greeting Ben with a kiss when he opened up. He was wearing an apron and had what smelled like garlic in one hand, so he was obviously in the process of making us dinner.
"I think you should."
I sat on the armchair nearest the kitchen so I could watch Ben cook; apart from being able to admire the way he moved with lissom grace, it also afforded me a fantastic view of the Cumberbum.
"All right, I'm sitting down and thoroughly intrigued. What's going on?"
"Ed Sheeran is touring Australia and New Zealand in March and April next year."
"O-kay," I drew out the second syllable.
"He's taking three support acts with him."
Oh shit. No, it's not possible...
"You are one of them."
In some deep, subliminal way I knew where I was and what I was doing there, but my mind had decided to bombard me with flash images of myself, Ed and two faceless musicians along with guitars, koalas, large spiders and screaming crowds of people. I wasn't compos mentis enough to work out if the spiders and the screaming were related. I heard a weird gurgling kind of sound but it wasn't until Ben's face appeared directly in front of mine looking very concerned that I realised the sound was coming from me.
"What's wrong? What's happened? Is it your grandparents?" He was really worried and I shook my head to reassure him but still couldn't get any words to form sentences in my head, much less verbalise them. "One of the band? Cara, what is it?" I merely handed over the phone. "Hello?" I watched him listen to the news from Rick, his eyes widening and mouth forming into an 'O'. When they finished talking he looked at me. "Fuck."
I simply nodded; couldn't have said it better myself, Cumbers.
He disappeared for a minute and came back with two shot glasses of whiskey; we clinked glasses and I sculled it like my life depended on it. Maybe it does; could this be a catatonic coma? Am I doomed to be in this state of semi awareness for the rest of my days, staring fixedly at an indeterminate point while piecemeal thoughts percolate around inside my head? The whiskey burned its way down my oesophagus and I coughed as my eyes began to water. Well, that answers that.
"Did Rick just say...?" My voice sounded croaky.
"Yes." Ben's wasn't much better; must be damn good whiskey.
"Holy mother of mercy."
"That too."
I held my glass out to him and without a word he poured refills. This time he made a toast; "Congratulations darling."
"Thanks," I muttered, sounding slightly more like myself. "Fuck!"
Ben laughed. "I've never heard you say that before."
"I've never said it before," I admitted. "Seemed like as good a time as any."
We sculled again and I coughed once more, then he took the glass from my hand, pulled me to my feet and kissed me, hard and thorough. I'm talking, 'That kiss was so hot, I got heatstroke' kind of thorough. Now I was a quivering bundle of lustful hormones in his arms and I'm pretty sure he had lost interest in any culinary pursuits, so I untied the strings of the apron and was about to do the same for his shirt buttons when he stopped me, tugging my jumper over my head and throwing it haphazardly behind him. "Ladies first," he whispered in a voice so low and husky my lust hiked up a notch or ten. Of course, it's unladylike to argue, so I submitted willingly – it's only polite, after all – as he methodically removed every article of clothing I wore.
"So, so beautiful." The warm breath in my ear sent shivers pulsing through every nerve ending; eyes closed, I tilted my head to the side to allow him greater access to my neck, trembling when his soft lips fluttered feather-like down its length to my collarbone.
"Benedict, clothes off," I pleaded, wanting to see him.
"Not yet darling, I'm going to enjoy you as I am for a while first." Then he carried me to his bed and spent some time bringing me to the pinnacle of pleasure before he divested himself of his clothes and began the task all over again. I love how committed he is to the task in hand...er, hands.
---
Two days after the official announcement of Ed's tour, I was heading to my grandparents' house after Tony had rung and basically ordered me to a family dinner. I have to admit to being somewhat peeved; firstly, at my big brother thinking he could still order me around, and secondly because Ben had been busy the past few nights and tonight had been my first chance to see him. Naturally, I had invited him along to the family dinner – I just hadn't mentioned it to them yet.
Arriving at the shop, I stopped in to chat to Marco and his assistant for a few minutes. "So what's the story with Tony ordering us to come for dinner?" I asked him when we had a moment alone. He merely shrugged and avoided my eyes, going off to put some stock away. Great, a man secret. Ben's arrival just then prevented me from placing Marco under interrogation – luckily for him – so we headed upstairs with my brother saying he'd be five minutes more.
"Are you sure they won't mind me showing up unexpectedly?" Ben asked, removing his arm from around my waist as he remembered the rules for PDA in front of my strict Catholic family. He held my hand instead.
"It'll be fine; there's always tons of food." I knew he meant that perhaps the evening was private but my blood was still up over Tony's bossiness and I was staging my own little rebellion against that.
Knocking briefly on the door of their flat, I turned the knob and strode in, Ben right behind me. The usual flurry of greetings ensued, everyone jabbering in Italian, but it wasn't until I moved around to hug Maria that I noticed another man waiting quietly in the background.
My blood froze in my veins and I halted mid-sentence, barely able to believe my eyes. The room suddenly went quiet and it seemed as if everybody was watching us.
"Ѐ bello vederti, mia figlia," he said. (It's good to see you, my daughter)
Behind me I heard Ben gasp, which didn't surprise me as he had probably been under the impression my father was dead – which, as far as I was concerned, he was.
Without saying a word I turned, grabbed Ben's arm and tugged it, hard, as I made my way back to the door I had just entered, thundering down the stairs with him in tow.
"Cara!" Marco called as we passed him, reaching out a hand to stop me. I thrust it forcefully aside, sparing him a scorching look as I kept going, thankful that Ben was following me without question; I felt betrayed by my entire family and could not have borne it if he had done the same.