I’ve held this broken, exhausted mother in my arms as she emotionally collapsed in the safe confines of a shower. That image is indelibly printed onto my brain. So seeing her like this, vibrant and grinning and still high from her epic performance does things to my heart that I can’t articulate.

I knew that Marlowe was inside her.

But whether she knew is another matter.

The best bit? Santi dropped by our table for a drink after his set and slipped Marlowe his business card, telling her to give him a call if she ever wanted to pursue a recording career. He’s a good guy, but not that good. He wouldn’t have made that offer if he didn’t think she had serious potential.

‘I still can’t believe you pulled a stunt like that,’ she says, shaking her head and beaming at me.

‘It was a gamble,’ I admit, taking her hand. She lets me. ‘Not because I thought you’d fuck it up—I knew you wouldn’t—but because I thought you might actually strangle me for putting you on the spot like that.’

‘I was tempted to. But it was also the most incredible thing anyone’s ever done for me. So thank you.’ She looks down at our hands. ‘It means the world to me that you have that much faith in my singing abilities.’

‘I may be besotted with you, love,’ I tell her, ‘but I’m not stupid. I know talent when I see it, and your talent basically punched me in the face. You looked like a star up there. You held your own on stage with a global megastar—that should tell you how much fucking potential you have. All you have to decide is whether you’re going to call him.’

She gives me an oh, please look. ‘I have a job. And a daughter who needs me.’

‘I’ll happily fire you,’ I retort. ‘And you have a daughter who’s going back to school next week and is now perfectly capable of leading a normal life.’

What I don’t spell out is that, if I win her over and she becomes my girlfriend, she’ll never have to work a day in her life to pay the bills. Instead, she’ll be free to follow her dreams. I want that for her so badly. I want to be able to give her that freedom she deserves after years and years of thankless fucking toil, but I can’t say that.

Because she’ll accuse me of buying her right as I’m trying to set her free.

I’ve insisted on dropping Marlowe home. She’s tried so hard to dissuade me that I suspect this goes way beyond her dislike of inconveniencing others. I have a feeling she doesn’t want me to see where she lives.

Well, tough shit, sweetheart.