Page 63 of Wish You Once More
Epilogue
Mat
The past three months had been the most testing, challenging time period in my life. More challenging than doing any of my exams, more challenging than playing our first ever Trash Gun gig; more challenging than playing for a record company scout.
And I couldn’t have done any of it without Bree at my side.
After we’d reconciled back in Darthampton, we stayed there for a while. I called Scott and told him I needed some time away from the band, citing my dad’s death as the main reason. We didn’t put a time limit on it. I told him as soon as I knew I was ready to come back that he’d be the first to know.
Jonny, Melinda, Bree and I worked together to plan a funeral and memorial service totally befitting Dad. Practically the whole town turned out for it, showing just how much he meant to everyone.
It was one of the hardest days I’d ever had, particularly when it came to deliver the eulogy. When I stumbled and couldn’t carry on, Bree came to the front and took over. I’d never loved her more.
A few days after the funeral, Jonny and I worked on a strategy for the business. He couldn’t do everything on his own - neither of us, nor Melinda wanted him to end up like Dad. We ended up hiring an Operations Manager, who’d take on a lot of the day to day administration and bookings, plus a Housekeeping Manager who’d keep the small number of cleaners we had on casual contracts in check. Jonny would oversee the running of the business and do all the accounts, as he had been. It gave him more time back to spend with Melinda and Henry.
One night, about a month later, Bree and I were alone in the flat. Callie was out on a date and we had the place to ourselves for once.
“I love your best friend dearly, but I’m beginning to feel like there’s a third person in this relationship,” I commented.
We were snuggled up on the sofa after dinner, watching a Netflix drama series which we’d already binged the first season of.
“Does that mean we ought to look for a new place?” Bree sat up, her brows knotted together.
I sucked in my bottom lip. “I was thinking of going back to Manchester. There’s not much more I can do here. Jonny’s got the business under control, and there’s only so many open mic nights I can go to. People are starting to think I’m a ringer.”
Her face fell. “I’m not sure I want a long-distance relationship.”
“That’s not what I was suggesting.”
“Then how would we make it work?”
“You could move in with me?”
Bree’s jaw dropped. She tried to mouth something, but no words would come out. Her blue eyes grew wide as she processed what I had asked her.
“I can’t do that!” she finally managed.
“What’s stopping you?” I folded my arms across my chest, sure I had all the answers to any of her roadblocks.
“My business. The studio.” She wound her blue streak of hair around her finger.
“Right, because Manchester doesn’t have any studio space or business opportunities.” From underneath the cushion, I pulled out a small sheaf of papers. Unknown to Bree, I’d been doing my research and had found a number of shared studio spaces close to my apartment. There were similar businesses in the area, and I knew she’d make a success of it, wherever she was in the country. “Here.”
She grabbed them from my grasp, her gaze scanning each of the sheets. “But what about transporting my existing projects? It’s not like I can take them on the train.”
“I’m sure Harry would appreciate a long-distance job, particularly if the money was right.”
“You’ve thought of everything.” For the next few minutes, she didn’t speak, still reading through the studio options. Her head jerked up. “I don’t have any friends there.”
“What about Rosie and Ellie?”
“Oh, sure, a supermodel and her fashion designer friend who lusted after you for God knows how long. It’s a friendship made in reality TV hell.” Bree shook her head. “You can’t be serious.”
“Okay, well, maybe not. But if you get a shared studio, there will be other like-minded people who you’ll get to know.” I emphasised the words ‘like-minded’. “Come on, seriously, what’s stopping you?”
She dropped the papers on the sofa, shoulders slumped. “What if we don’t work out?”
“We will this time, Bree. No misunderstandings, no drama.”
