Backstage with Her Ex

‘No? Remember that night you borrowed your sister’s new bra and padded it with tissues to see if I’d notice—’ He laughed as his hands curved in front of his chest. ‘I noticed.’

She clearly did remember if the new flush on her cheeks was anything to go by, and how he’d told her she was perfect without any trimmings or falseness. Their last night. When they’d almost lost control of their agreed celibacy.

Their heated innocent fumblings swarmed back in a cloud of memories. He’d needed her, needed a release, an escape from the realities of his life. And they’d been so close to sealing their love.

Low in his abdomen something tightened and prickled hot. The jolt of his body’s response jarred. He so wasn’t in the mood for a trip down Memory Lane or the unwelcome feelings she invoked. In his experience women were trouble, particularly exes. ‘Why all the cloak and dagger stuff? Why didn’t you just get hold of my manager?’

‘Oh duh. Why didn’t I think of that?’ She smacked the palm of her hand against her forehead. ‘You, Mr Out of Touch with Reality, have no idea how hard that is. We tried calling, letters, emails. The kids even sent in a video. But nothing. No reply from your office. And now the deadline’s looming.’

‘I see. So desperate measures, eh?’ That tingling zipped through his body again. He liked the idea of Sasha desperate. Images of her youthful body lashed against his mixed with the full-woman curves in front of him now. One thing was for sure: she’d always had an effect on him.

God, he needed to get laid. Soon. And not with her, because he never did reruns of his mistakes.

Which was why his indignation grew as he watched her scrape her hair back into an untidy ponytail, with a hair tie she kept on her wrist, not caring how she looked. He couldn’t help watching her, unable to remember the last time he’d been in the same room as a woman who hadn’t continually looked in a mirror or asked for reassurance about her appearance. Sasha was a breath of fresh air in his world of fakery, but she was trading on their past and that hurt.

‘London is awash with Z-list celebrities desperate to raise their profiles. Why not ask one of them? Why me?’ He didn’t know what he wanted her to reply. That she’d never stopped thinking of him? That this was a way of connecting with him again?

‘Aside from the fact you’re the only successful person I know, or that came out of Chesterton High?’

‘And that was despite it. Did you think I’d be an easy target? Or is it because of our history?’

‘I wouldn’t use that, Nate.’

‘Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?’

He watched as she struggled to maintain calm. ‘No. I didn’t want to dredge up the past, but somehow Cassie managed to convince me to try to get hold of you. This is all about helping the kids out. They don’t know about what happened between us—very few people do. What we had was...well, I guess it was special. It was private.’

‘So special you refused to hear my explanation. So special you turned your back like everyone else. So damned special you couldn’t even look me in the eye.’ But he’d looked into hers. Right when he’d willed her to speak up for him, to serve as character witness or do something to save him, the way he’d have done anything for her.

She gripped the door handle. ‘You hit someone, Nathan. You told me you had. I wasn’t going to lie and say you hadn’t. The police were hammering on the door screaming that you’d had to be hauled off the poor kid before you killed him. You were all shouting. I was seventeen and scared as hell by the aggression—from you all. I wouldn’t have been heard even if I’d wanted to.’

Which she hadn’t. He hadn’t told her why he’d hit Craig. Why he couldn’t stop. She’d noticed his raw knuckles and he’d told her just enough to stop her asking questions.

But ancient history didn’t matter; he’d put it so far behind him he could barely remember it.

So why the tightening in his chest?

He shook his head. ‘Just forget it.’

‘You always were trouble, Nathan Munro, and don’t deny it.’ Her lips stretched into an upwards curl. She might well have developed into a stunning ardent woman, but the smile was still very youthful, teasing. ‘And it looks like you still are.’

‘I try my best.’ Trouble, and never good enough for her and her family. Even in a rundown place like Chesterton there’d been a pecking order and his family had been at the bottom.

But okay, she’d never sold him out to the press, though many others had.

Bond Street tube station lights flickered directly outside, but she made no effort to get out of the car. Tapping his fingers on the leather seat, he waited for her to leave; he had no intention of spending time again with Sasha. Some things were just best left alone—memories, for a start, trampled hearts. Their lost past. ‘And?’

‘And...’ Her mouth tightened into a thin line as anxiety flitted across her eyes. ‘The school I work at? It’s Chesterton High.’

* * *

Un-frickin-believable.

He’d put all this behind him and had no desire to go back there again. For any of them, least of all her.

‘So let me get this right. In the precious amount of spare time I have, you want me to drop everything to help you, and help that school too, after all that happened?’

Her eyes widened, her chin tilted higher, daring him to agree to her ridiculous suggestion. ‘Yes.’

‘Not a chance, sweet thing.’

She gasped. Using the nickname he’d called her throughout their two-year relationship seemed to strike a chord. Her mouth fell open as if she was about to say something, then she closed it.

He leaned across her, careful not to brush against that hair, or those curves, caught the handle of the car and opened the door. ‘I’m sorry. This crazy plan of yours won’t be happening. You can go now.’

‘Wait.’ Pausing with one foot on the pavement and the other in the car, she tilted her head to him. ‘There is another reason I thought you might want to help us.’

‘I can’t wait for this. What could possibly be more compelling than what you’ve suggested so far?’

Her discomfort was palpable, her eyes turbulent with emotion. Now the words tumbled out in a rush as she dragged in a breath. ‘It’s a mixed ability choir...called No Limits.’

The ache in his chest was swift and sudden, finding all the empty places and filling them. Disarmed by her words, and the way she looked at him with empathy and sadness, he was thrown off kilter. ‘You really know how to turn the screw, don’t you, Sasha? You think I’d want to help because of my brother?’

‘Marshall loved singing and dancing, Nate. And he loved being in the school choir.’

Marshall had loved Sasha, too, almost as much as Nate had. But he’d hated the school. He’d hated the bullies that ruined his life. And Nate’s, for a while. But revenge was sweet when it came wrapped in international stardom.

And then...the ache deepened in wave after wave of pain. None of his success would bring Marshall back. ‘So now you’re using Marshall as collateral? Are there no limits to the lengths to which you’ll stoop?’

‘I just thought it might make a difference to you.’ She’d never treated Marshall as different, and he knew she’d have been as devastated as he was when Marshall died. At least, he assumed she knew of his death even though he’d tried to keep it quiet. But the furore afterwards as he’d lost control had been splashed over the newspapers.

‘But this?’

‘You wanted me to be honest, so hear me out. The kids in the choir are just like him. Excited, hopeful...special. They want to go to the national competition and be part of something that’s normal. And they’ve got a good chance of placing too. They just need a break.’

‘And me as a draw card.’

This was a game-changer. But he didn’t know if he could walk into a room full of kids like Marshall and not make a fool of himself by losing it. He’d ploughed thousands of dollars into research, donated anonymously to charities, but he was scared about coming face to face with a kid like his brother.

‘I never pegged you as a coward, Nate.’

‘I’m not a coward.’ Irritation tripped down his spine mixing with the other emotions she’d dredged up in him. ‘I just don’t need to go back there. I have nothing to prove.’

The laugh gushing from her throat was filled with passion. ‘Oh, yeah? The Nathan Munro I knew always had something to prove. You’ve spent the last ten years showing the world how good you can be despite your upbringing. But right now the only thing you’re proving is how much you’ve changed. And not for the better.’

Retrieving a card from her purse, she regained her composure. Which was a shame, because something about her all fired up connected with something deep in him. ‘If, by any kind of miracle, you change your mind here’s my contact details. And the school—well, you know where that is. Please just think about.’

He didn’t need to. He wasn’t doing it.