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“We come from very different worlds—” Alex was saying but stopped with the clanking sound of steel against China. She looked up and found Morgan and that stare, swallowing the mouthful she’d been chewing.

“You have more money, that’s all. Being alone is no different to me than it is to you. I work, I go home and the only living thing to greet me is my cat. I spend my limited time off with friends if my shifts fit with them, and then I go home, alone, to a flat that I clean. I cook myself dinner and I eat alone, and if I’m unwell, I get on with it. More money just means you can employ a Francine to make sure bills are paid and your life is running smoothly. You can pay Mike to drive you around and make sure that you get everywhere on time. You don’t have to worry about the car being so old it might actually fall apart when you’re driving, and if it did, you’d just buy another one. I’ve no doubt you have a cleaner too, and when you work, it’s for three weeks lounging around in fancy hotels being waited on, and your bank balance inflates to the point you don’t ever have to worry about it…”

Morgan ran her tongue around her teeth before she picked up her knife and fork again, frustrated with herself for letting anyone get under her skin like this.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

Alex pondered it all for a moment. “No, I think it was a fair assessment.” She pushed a chip onto the fork. “And I am aware of how lucky I am to have been born with a talent for something that really took no effort on my part. I am grateful foreverything that I have, but money doesn’t buy everything, and for me there is always a transaction to be paid.”

Morgan said nothing.

“That’s all I meant.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Painkillers, excellent strapping, ice, and plenty of rest meant that Alex climbed up on stage the following night with barely anyone noticing the slight discomfort she was feeling. Not just physically, but the emotion pulling at her too. Several times, she glanced out into the audience, hoping to catch a glimpse of Morgan, and every time she was left disappointed when she couldn’t see her.

So, she did what she did best and focused on the music. She played her set and brought the audience to their feet for an encore of “Rhapsody in Blue,” her most famous and most recognised piece of music. And when it was over, she took her bow and descended the stage to greet the people she needed to speak with. It was exhausting, and she was relieved when Francine hooked her elbow and led her away, away from it all, straight into the car, heading back to the hotel.

“How’s the ankle?” Morgan asked from her seat in the car. She looked concerned.

Alex sat back against the seat and smiled. She must have been there. “The meds are wearing off.” She grimaced. “But it held up, so thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” Morgan said, rifling through her bag for more painkillers. Francine took a small bottle of water from the fridge and passed it over. “Here take these. Two will help with any pain. I can give you a light sedative to help you sleep later, too.”

“I’m not sure I—”

“It might do you good. You didn’t get a wink the other night and last night mustn’t have been too great with the injury,” Francine encouraged. “The last thing you need right now is to be tired and unfocused. A good night’s sleep will do you the power of good.”

Alex looked back and forth between them both. Two very different women, each trying to care for her in their own way.

Morgan was already doing something else and paying no attention, but Francine was watching her.

“Fine.” Alex sighed, swallowing the painkillers. “If I can’t sleep later, I’ll take one.”

“The show went well,” Francine said, changing the subject.

“Thankfully.” Alex breathed out a sigh of relief. “The pedals were harder obviously, but I just about managed it. Did you watch?” she asked hopefully.

Morgan was looking down at the ankle, just about visible where Alex’s trousers had ridden up with sitting down. When nobody else spoke, she glanced up and found Alex waiting for an answer. “Yes,” she said quickly before changing the conversation back to medical-related topics. “As soon as we’re back into the hotel room, I want that foot elevated and another ice pack on it before you go to bed.”

Alex saluted. “Yes, boss.”

As much as she tried, Morgan couldn’t resist smiling; it was returned equally, and in that moment, everything felt a little lighter between them both.

“Should we hire a wheelchair for moving around generally?” Francine questioned.

Morgan shook her head, her eyes still set on Alex. “No, some weight-bearing exercise will be okay. With rest and icepacks, and anti-inflammatory meds, she should be up and about and 100% by the end of the tour at the latest, but I’m hopeful of a week?”

“A week?” Alex grinned. “I thought I was done for.”

“It’s a relatively minor strain,” Morgan explained. “It looks nastier than it is, but you’ve got to do as your doctor says, alright?”

Alex continued to grin. “Yes, whatever you say.”

“It’s not even midnight yet,” Alex moaned when Morgan stood beside the bed and pulled the duvet back.

“And your point is?” She plumped the pillows and piled them up so that Alex could sit up for a while. “I’m not saying you have to go to sleep, although that would certainly help.”