Page 17 of To the Moon and Back

“Why not just grab a hotel room? Not like you can’t afford it,” Nial said.

“True.” Jed reached several flutes from a high cupboard. “But packing and unpacking gets old real quick. This way we empty our cases once and move the whole room with us.”

“I love it,” I said, walking into the living area. It smelled of aftershave and maybe a hint of tobacco. There were piles of Rolling Stone magazines and an eclectic mix of CDs scattered around. An iPhone stand was connected to an elaborate set up of speakers.

Jed smiled. “We try to keep it tidy—well, as tidy as we’re ever going to.”

“It’s cool, and so is this.” Rich pointed to a shiny red acoustic guitar plugged into an amp.

“Have at it,” Jed said. “It used to belong to The Edge.”

Rich’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened. “No way.”

“Yes way. I won it off him in a poker game in Dublin last year.”

“Oh. My. God.” Rich sank to his knees before it, hands clasped as if worshipping at a temple. “I’m not worthy.”

Jed slapped his shoulder. “After that performance tonight, you definitely are.”

Chris popped the cork.

I jumped, still twitchy after the lightning and the frenzied energy that had consumed me on stage. A high-pitched laugh peeled up from my chest, an expulsion of emotion.

Chris grinned at me.

A now familiar sensation of longing tugged at my belly. For years I’d admired his music and his handsome face, but now I was getting to know him I saw that he really was the nicest of guys—generous, brave, kind, the list went on.

Jed popped the ring pull on a can of cola.

“No champers?” I asked, taking a full flute from Chris.

“Nah, I gave up the booze last year. It was getting too much.” He took a sip of his drink. “Didn’t want to put myself in an early grave.”

“Very wise.” I took a sip of my bubbly then set the glass on the work surface.

“You wanna look around?” Jed asked me.

“Sure.”

“Cool, this way.” He nodded to the left as if indicating I should go first.

I paused at the first door and he reached around me to open it, his chest brushing against my shoulder.

“This is the bathroom.” He revealed a small white bathroom. A bunch of toiletries—shaving gel, razors, hairspray, cologne—littered a shelf with a rail around it to stop things sliding off.

“Neat.”

“It works.” He pulled the door closed. “And this is my room.” He opened the next door and gestured for me to go inside.

I stepped in. The air was warm, the lighting dim.

He flicked on a small lamp.

A double bed had a navy duvet, the cover depicting the night sky with a scattering of stars and a crescent moon.

“I like it.” I nodded.

“Yeah.” He stood close, there wasn’t much space around the bed. “It goes with your song, the one you led with.”

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