Trust (London Love #5)

“Downstairs is the nanny flat, which could be converted into a home gym if that is required. Perhaps, in your line of work, Mr Dieter, a home studio could be an option?”

I followed her downstairs. Big living space, small kitchen, a bedroom…I could buy this and just live down here. And once again I realised I was buying something far too big. Something fit for the family I would never have.

“Follow me,” the estate agent beckoned enthusiastically. I did, and up the stairs we went, past the ground floor and up again.

“Guest bedroom, slash office, slash gym…” This woman was obsessed with the home gym idea. My personal trainer had a private gym. And once a week my driver took me there for Tomaz to almost un-alive me with cruel routines that I was supposed to keep up with daily. I did nothing of the sort, and he knew it. It was one thing keeping fit on tour, but I wasn’t on tour, and I was allowed a break.

Up we went again, to the top floor, where there was a large bedroom—a comfortable space with sparse lighting, a cot in the corner and a small balcony.

Something in my chest broke.

There was a soft toy on the bed. It wasn’t Mr Snuggles, but it could have been. I wanted it to be.

It was a sign.

I didn’t believe in signs.

But I liked this place.

Huh. That was…unexpected.

I nodded politely to the estate agent as I strode out the door. “My people will be in touch,” I said. Like the twat I was.

“Mr Dieter?”

Here we go again. A photo. An autograph. Whatever.

“There has been a lot of interest. I can’t see this place remaining on the market for more than a few days. It’s a nice house. Good area. The family has been very happy here, and I think your own family would thrive here too. The local kids play out in the courtyard, the green space at the back is all communal too. I believe someone has even built a treehouse. There are several excellent schools in the area, and you’re within walking distance of parks, and of course, the Tube station is just around the corner.”

Like I had a family. But…

Could I have a family? Yeah, right. In a dream world. I couldn’t even make Reuben want me, so what hope did I have of finding someone to have kids with? Did I want kids?

Not at the moment. I could barely look after myself. And that nanny flat had given me all the wrong vibes.

In the future perhaps?

“No kids.” I smiled to the estate agent. “But I like the house. Good choice.”

“I could show you some more properties. I would need a day to arrange viewings and go through options.”

“Uh, sure,” I said. Whatever.

My driver took me back to the cold stern house and today’s guard, who shook my hand and nodded politely. I’d never seen him before. I left him on the sofa while I disappeared upstairs and shoved all my belongings into two suitcases. Cases I still hadn’t fully unpacked from the last tour.

There. Done.

Now what?

I lay on my mattress and stared at the ceiling, my phone in my hand.

Texted Musa.

Took a call from Lauren. Grimaced at her ridiculous demands, seeing as she’d imposed the changes in schedule. I would be at the studio at eight. No argument.

Tried to ring Reuben. He didn’t pick up but texted me back to say he was at work.

I wanted so badly to ask him if I could see him. Just come over for a hug. I would have walked all the way across London to bloody Peckham to get one.