Trace of Innocence | Sweet and Sour (Book 4)

Chapter 47

(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 47 - It's Been So Long)

I am on pins the following morning, waiting for the debut of Perfect on Radio 1. My stomach is twisting sharply every few seconds, and I contemplate ringing the owner of the flower shop to check that his driver has been given the instructions and will follow them to the letter. I eventually decide against this, not wanting to seem any more creepy than I probably already do, thanks to my manic conversation with him last night. I tune in to Grimmy's show and listen while he builds up to the first play, tapping my fingers against my thigh nervously and wondering whether Jess will understand the song and know it is about her. I pray to God she hasn't been held up on her way to work, and that everything runs according to plan.

Once the song has finished playing, I perch nervously on the edge of the bed in my hotel suite. Should I call her? Should I call the florist? Should I just play it cool and let her ring me? The decision is taken out of my hands about two minutes later when my phone lights up and rings - it's Jess. This has to be a good sign. Even if she hasn't realised the song is about her, hopefully she at least likes it.

"Hi," I answer, nervously.

"Hi," she replies, and she sounds nasal and trembly. Oh God - please don't let this have upset her, or pushed her towards a reconciliation before she is ready.

"Are you alright?" I ask, with trepidation.

"No," she chokes, and my stomach drops to my toes. "I'm a fucking mess! That song..."

Oh fuck. Is she annoyed? Or worse, has it opened up old wounds? I knew this was a fucking bad idea. Me and my stupid idiotic gestures.

"Was it - is it about me?" she is asking, half sobbing. "Perfect, I mean?"

If my insides weren't trembling, I would probably have laughed. As if it could be about anyone else when she has consumed my thoughts, my life, from the moment I met her.

"Yeah," I reply, bracing myself. "Is that OK?"

"OK?" she repeats. "OK?! It's the most... the most... amazing thing anyone has ever done for me!"

I take a deep breath. This is good - this is all good.

"And those flowers!" she continues. "It's... it's beyond romantic! It's - it's..."

"Perfect?" I joke, and she gives a gentle laugh.

"Yeah. It's perfect. Thank you. For all of it."

I release the breath I was holding and lie back on the bed with a smile on my face for the first time this morning. "Thank God for that," I sigh. "When I heard you crying I thought you were upset. I was shitting myself."

"No, I'm just overwhelmed," she sniffs. "But in the best possible way."

"OK, good," I grin. I'll take overwhelmed.

"Who else knows it's about me?" she asks in a small voice.

"Um, pretty much everyone who had anything to do with it," I admit, staring up at the ceiling and swinging my leg that is hanging off the edge of the bed. "And my family, obviously. I've been dying to tell you for so long, but I didn't want you to think I was trying to manipulate you with it. I wanted you to hear it and understand it without my intervention. And I wanted you to love it."

"I do love it!" she says enthusiastically. "I think it's my new favourite. It's brilliant."

"Even more than Little White Lies?" I ask in disbelief, and there is a pause on the other end of the phone.