Trace of Innocence | Sweet and Sour (Book 4)

Chapter 71

(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 71 - Bringing My Demons Out)

It's a strange feeling the next morning, waking up technically unemployed. Last night was an emotional milestone but I'm feeling bright and excited about the future, particularly the next couple of months. Mum and Robin stayed at my house last night, and once Jess has left (she has plans with the Wicked Witch of the West) I cook us brunch before we all head into Covent Garden to do some last minute Christmas shopping. Although I have bought Jess a new car, I want her to have some other presents to open on Christmas Day and I also need a couple of things for her family. I know Mum wants to get her a couple of things too so we spend a leisurely afternoon browsing the quaint little shops and return home in the dark, laden with bags and parcels. I have taken the liberty of digging out a spare set of keys to my house and have now purchased a small gift box for them to go in, should I ever get the courage to broach the subject about moving in together. After Mum and Robin have left I pour myself a glass of wine, order a pizza and begin wrapping all my presents, including the gift box containing the set of house keys for Jess.

Once I'm done with wrapping, eating and drinking, I plug in my laptop and fire up my emails. I'd forgotten all about my brief conversation with Alex, the photographer, last night, so I'm confused for a moment when I see an email in my inbox titled 'Sheffield photos'. There is a brief message from him, thanking me for taking the time to talk to him last night and hoping I like the pictures he took. I open the attachments and begin scrolling through. There are about twenty; some of me singing and some of Mum, Robin, Gemma, Jess, and other members of my family. They're really good - clearly this guy has a flair - and I'm about three quarters of the way through when one of them takes my breath away. It's a photoshopped image of me and Jess named 'Starry Eyed': both are closeups and we're facing towards each other; me with my microphone, singing and looking down towards her, a coy smile on my face, and Jess looking up towards me, the most radiant smile on her face and her eyes sparkling. It's absolutely incredible. I have a quick scan through the rest but this one is definitely the best one. I have to have a copy of this. Jess will love it.

I email him straight back and ask if I can buy it, then spend ten minutes staring at the image, taking in every fraction of it from the reflection in Jess's eye to the tiny baby hairs on her cheek, the creases at the corner of her eye thanks to her smile to the curve of her jawline, smooth and soft. I stare at her blonde hair shining under the stadium lights and can almost hear the lyrics of Perfect, the words that were written about her... so many words were written about her.

And then I am struck with inspiration, and I open my Sent Items and hastily reply to my own message to Alex, asking if he can edit this image specifically for me, as I have the most amazing idea that I know Jess would love, and would make the most perfect gift for her birthday in January. I just hope he can do what I want. I'm elated the following day when he emails me back asking me to send him the lyrics I want to include in the picture, and assuring me he will make it his priority and will have something to me by early next week. 

Jess's office finishes for the Christmas break on Friday, and when I speak to her on Saturday lunchtime she is miserable thanks to a stinking hangover and insists she doesn't want me to see her in such a sorry state. Although I'm tempted to race round to her flat with a care package, I also remember her previous comments about me respecting her own space and listening to her, and force myself to refrain, instead heading to the gym for a workout to keep my fitness up.

I'm desperate to see her by Sunday morning though, and ring her just after eleven a.m. to tell her I'll be picking her up in an hour and taking her for Sunday lunch at the pub next door to my house. She gladly accepts and, feeling giddy, I slip the little gift box containing the house keys into my pocket just in case the conversation goes in that direction.