Rewrite the Stars. Emma Heatherington

I heard from Kirsty, she was planning her wedding. Yes, another one,’ says Emily, while Kevin continues to commentate in the background. ‘I mean seriously, I don’t know how she does it. I’m still de-stressing from my wedding a year later, never mind contemplating another. She’s like, what do you call her? What’s the name of the actress with all the husbands?’

      Tom can definitely hear her now. We glance at each other. He catches my eye and smiles.

      ‘What’s the name of the famous actress who was married eight times?’ I ask him, not wanting him to feel left out.

      ‘Liz Taylor,’ he whispers.

      ‘Liz Taylor, yes! Kirsty would make Liz Taylor look like a spinster at this rate,’ I joke to my sister. ‘Look, I’d better go but you two enjoy the rest of your day and I’ll see you soon.’

      But Emily doesn’t seem to want to go. She’s totally caught up in all things to do with me and Tom, it seems, and wants to hear more.

      ‘Is he there right now? Beside you?’ Emily says just as I’m about to hang up. ‘You know, our mother fancied him more than any of us when he was in the band with Matthew. She totally had the hots for him and said if only she was twenty-five years younger!’

      I take that as my cue to go and we swiftly say our goodbyes, then I lean back on the booth and drop my phone beside me.

      I can’t believe she said that my mother fancied Tom but, let’s face it, he probably has women of all ages swooning after him all the time. He’s the type of man that older women float towards in a giddy mix of maternal instinct and physical attraction.

      ‘So, your friend, is it Kirsty? She’s been married more than once or was that just a joke?’ he asks, out of the blue, and I’m a bit taken aback at his interest in the brief mention of Kirsty’s exotic love life.

      ‘Yes, Kirsty is a real romantic who would consider marrying Mickey Mouse if he asked her to, why?’ I ask, taking a gulp of my drink.

      ‘Just asking,’ he says to me. ‘Funny old thing, marriage. I’m just curious.’

      OK, then, since he’s just curious …

      ‘Well, her first marriage was when she was twenty-four to a Turkish lad called Demir who she met on holiday,’ I tell him. ‘They’d known each other two weeks when he proposed.’

      ‘Sweet.’

      I smile at his sincerity.

      ‘That’s one word for it, I suppose,’ I explain, ‘but as soon as he got his visa just over a year later, she was history.’

      His face changes. ‘Ah, not so sweet then. Poor Kirsty.’

      That’s what we said at the time, but we needn’t have worried.

      ‘Second of all was James, a forty-seven-year-old divorcé she met online who only wanted someone to look after his children so he could work around the clock,’ I say, and Tom’s eyes widen. ‘So this time she jumped ship after two years, realizing that being Fräulein Maria was not her destiny, after all. She’s twenty-nine now and still hasn’t given up on her happily ever after.’

      Tom sits back and raises an eyebrow. I can’t tell if he’s impressed or just intrigued that someone in this day and age could be so gullible.

      ‘I guess we all make foolish mistakes when we’re young and think we’re in love,’ he says, a tinge of regret in his voice. He looks like his mind has drifted again for a second. ‘Do you fall in love easily, Charlie?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘You heard me.’ He squeezes my hand and my heart flutters.

      I hold his gaze as I wonder how to reply. If only he knew how I’d longed for him after only minutes in his company five years ago. How I’d spent hours of my life pouring my thoughts into love song after love song and how every single man I’ve met since him failed to give me the intense feeling in the pit of my stomach like he did. I’d thought that maybe I’d imagined him to be something he wasn’t, that I’d dreamed him up in my head, yet here we are having the most relaxed, perfect time together and it tells me that I was right all along.

      ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before,’ I say to him, wanting to hold back from spilling my whole heart out to him so soon. ‘I’m a bit of a cynic, maybe. My mother always said I should lower my expectations instead of dreaming of Mr Perfect For Me.’

      He laughs now with a tiny hint of embarrassment at the mention of my mother.

      ‘So, you’ve never been in love,’ he says. ‘Ah, come on.’

      If only he knew.

      ‘Same question back to you,’ I say to him, feeling brave but unsure if I want to know the ins and outs of his love life. I already know that it’s been, let’s say, very busy.

      He takes a sip of his frothy pint of Guinness and then leans forward and clasps his hands.

      ‘I’ve certainly thought I was in love before,’ he says, not afraid to look me in the eye as he does so. ‘Many, many times I thought, wow, this must be it, but then it would wear off and I’d wonder if that’s how it should be. I’ve been searching and hoping for something deeper, you know? Something real that lasts and that doesn’t give up when the novelty and lust drug wears off, but to be honest, I’m still wondering if I really know what it’s all about at all. What even is love?’

      We both take a deep breath and sit in silent contemplation. I feel tears prick my eyes when I think of the words I put into songs about him, yet I didn’t even know him at all back then. Is that love? Or how I dreamed of this moment when we’d be reunited and it’s just as perfect as I’d imagined it. Is that love?

      ‘What I do know?’ he says, breaking our silence and looking my way, ‘is that when I first met you, Charlie, I think I felt something that I hadn’t before.’

      He pauses. I try not to gasp.

      ‘And I also know that I haven’t felt the same with anyone ever since, no matter how I tried to convince myself otherwise,’ he continues. ‘That probably sounds ridiculous but it’s true, Charlie. I find your talent, your presence, everything about you just so mesmerizing, which is why what your brother thinks of me just can’t get in the way any more. Not this time. Not ever.’

      I inhale this moment. Could this really be happening? Is it true what they say, that when you know, you just know? What is it about the two of us that makes this all feel so unique and real? When I see him, I want to touch him, to hold his hand, to take every part of him in. When I speak, it’s like he hangs on every single word and answers in exactly the way I want him to – actually no, he answers even better than that.

      I swallow hard. ‘Thank you,’ is all I can say. ‘I’m really honoured you think I’m so talented. I’ve always feared my songs might be a bit twee and simple.’

      He looks at me in disbelief. ‘You should be shining brightly, Charlie Taylor,’ he says, leaning closer, touching my face. ‘You absolutely impressed me and have rarely left my mind ever since that day, no matter where I’ve been or who I’ve been with.’

      I want to ask him why he didn’t come and find me back then if his feelings were so strong. What stopped him from looking me up and saving us both from all this misery for so long? Even if it hadn’t worked out, why didn’t he try and make it happen in the first place? And so I take a deep breath and ask him just that.

      ‘I think you broke my heart that day,’ I confess to him in an outburst I’ve been trying so hard to hold back on. ‘My heart went to pieces when I saw you with your girlfriend, not to mention all the different girls I saw you with after that.’

      He bites his lip, then runs his fingers through his hair.

      ‘I think that when you’re ready you should ask your brother why I never made