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Chapters (38)
  1. Cover
  2. REWRITE THE STARS
  3. Dedication
  4. Author’s Note
  5. Epigraph
  6. i
  7. ii
  8. Chapter One
  9. Chapter Two
  10. Chapter Three
  11. Chapter Four
  12. Chapter Five
  13. Chapter Six
  14. Chapter Seven
  15. Chapter Eight
  16. Chapter Nine
  17. Chapter Ten
  18. Chapter Eleven
  19. Chapter Twelve
  20. Chapter Thirteen
  21. Chapter Fourteen
  22. Chapter Fifteen
  23. Chapter Sixteen
  24. Chapter Seventeen
  25. Chapter Eighteen
  26. Chapter Nineteen
  27. Chapter Twenty
  28. Chapter Twenty-One
  29. Chapter Twenty-Two
  30. Chapter Twenty-Three
  31. Chapter Twenty-Four
  32. Chapter Twenty-Five
  33. Chapter Twenty-Six
  34. Epilogue
  35. Acknowledgements
  36. About the Author
  37. Also by Emma Heatherington
  38. About the Publisher

I think I’m going to cry. I feel like such a fool.

Another two men, who I recognize as fellow band members, shuffle round to make room for me and I sit down quietly, unable to find my voice, which is lost in surprise that Tom has such vivacious company. I honestly thought I was meeting him alone, which makes me feel stupid and presumptuous, and maybe even regretful and silly that I made the trip this far. But I’m not doing this for him, I remind myself. I’m doing it for me and I’ll just have to take from it as much as I can get.

I can feel his eyes on me now, smiling brightly. I manage to catch his eye and I smile briefly back. It is good to see him up close again even if this big reunion is absolutely nothing like I’d imagined it to be.

‘Charlie Taylor, I can’t believe you actually came all the way here! What a lovely surprise!’

A surprise? So he didn’t think I’d turn up even though I thought it was what he’d planned? Or I’d planned? I’m confused now. I’m confusing myself to try and think of how I got this so wrong.

I can tell from the slur in his voice and the glassy look in his eyes that he’s also very drunk. How wonderful.

‘Charlie, meet Bosco, Lou and Steve,’ he says a little too loudly, extending his arm dramatically as he points out each of the men around the table. By now they are more interested in their drinks and whatever conversation I just interrupted than they are in me, but they politely shake my hand and then get on with their own company. ‘The rest of them can introduce themselves,’ Tom adds. ‘I’m too tired and pissed to even remember their names.’

He laughs, which means the others laugh too, and another group in the corner nod and wave my direction. I do the same back. They look as keen to see me as I am to see them. I feel like I’ve gatecrashed a wedding and everyone is too far gone to even be bothered I’m here at all.

I fidget, feeling my palms sweat as I grip my phone. I put it into my bag to stop holding it so tightly.

‘It’s good … it’s good to see you,’ I say to Tom, fixing my hair now. I have to say something and even if I’m working on a cringe factor that’s off the scale, I’m here now and I need to make the most of it.