e with dignity and not dissolve into a black-teared monster. She smoothed the hair back from her face, gave her ash-blonde pony tail a yank to tighten it, and opened th

he disappointme

guess I can’t say it is nice to see you. I am sorry. I am just an errand boy. Owen thinks it is

the heart. “He really doesn’t

reading the expression on her face. “It is no use asking me, Em. We are blokes, we don’t talk about stuff like that

oice trembled. “Not just that

Owen’s spare guitar and a shoe box. “Em…” He gr

You don’t kno

I am

n passing, before?” She wondered, grasping for anything, an

“Maybe a bit here and there,” he admitted, his pity for her writte

hreatened to overflow again, and she fought them back pridefully. The tremble of her bot

ajor relationship dramas, no adventures. Just what is sensible, all the way from childhood through to now. He has sort of said he is goi

m dull,” Emily r

Daniel winced and flushed, embarrassed to be c

ered how she was meant to forget it when in o

anized iron fence with its prettily blooming honeysuckle that divided the two pro

eats. Not a band she recognised, but then, she had never understood rock music. Oh, some of it was alright, but most of it was just… noisy. Owen had always liked it though

musement. A prime example, they had said, of how opposites attract. But it had made choosing a wedding song a nightmare… She gripped the edge of t

had booked for the venue, in their wedding finery, gazing into each other’s eyes as Mrs and Mrs… “Oh, god.” She spent f

nd. In the end she just sat there, in the silence, with the tea growing cold before her, untouched, and stared at the pictures of Owen and herse

n’s mother, who was her best friend, who would then call Owen, and both mothers would probably end up coming around together, to go speak to their respecti

eved the phone, her heart hammering in her chest. No messages. Not a single one. No quick sweet: “Thinking of you” as normally kept her ph

e to Megan. “Don’t tell

swiftly. “A

m, laughing together. She touched his face. He had been happy there, his dimple on full display, his laugh wide and his eyes dancing. W

een this upset, he had been there for her. When she had lost her first pet. When the girls at school had been mean. When she’d had her first car accident. When

r to cry upon. His absence when she needed him, and the fact that she needed him because

iss you.” And t

t she had hemmed to length during a movie marathon whilst he had sanded back the skirting boards in the room, looking out across the front lawn they had

but the way it was assembled on him was somehow… different. A contrived casual dishevelment with the cuffs folded back on his jeans, collar arranged just so, b

e had just torn her world apart? She waited at the window, frozen into place, like a caricature of a nosy neighbo

self defensively trying to shake off the feeling of doing wrong. Somehow in all this, they had reversed ownership, and he had moved out into the house she legally owned, whilst she remained in the one that he did. Perhaps he had thou

ng so in order to g

t it was just Owen. If he came back, she would say she wanted to sp

ay made a str

r. There was no furniture in the house to absorb the sound, and the lounge and hallway floors were still bare cement. The f

n doing it by

rubbed them away with the backs of her hands impatiently. It was not the time for another melt down, she scolded herself, she didn’t know when he would be back, and she didn’t want t

very adolescent about the arrangement. At least if Megan were right, Emily thought wryly, and he was planning on hooking up, he would not be bringin

portant there and moved on to other things. As was typical of his priorities, his guitar and amp were perfectly set up with attention to detail and had a notepad and paper next to

ing their university years when they had played at weddings, restaurants, or busked for extra cash. Owen had always loved performing,

ne bolder, someone flashier, someone more vivid than she was. She had given away her studies when there had been nowhere l

was not comfortable on the stage, and slowly, over the years, in conce

his notebooks, that were not music related. She turned the notepad to the back. On the last page, was something scrawled in messy, almos

ad thought was great. She’d had a good repertoire, and an easy-going charm that made her very approachable. Emily had thought she s

see her perform at a winery, doubling an audition with a date night. Emily remembered how lovely it had been, sitting in the dapple shade

tightene

ny romantic comedy where the groom fell in love with the wedding singer, and realised he wa

ome other e