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64 - What I Really, Really Want

A/N: I'm taking poetic licence again, bringing Ed Sheeran's record label forward a year. But hey, it's a work of fiction, right? And BTW, in case you didn't know, 'Yanks' is a term British people (and colonials) give to Americans.

'There you go."

Rick set a steaming cup of coffee in front of me and I almost inhaled it in my eagerness for the hot, bitter balm to soften my edginess and wake the last batch of protons and neutrons still sleeping lazily within my system. "Oh God, thanks Rick." Even wrapping my hands around the warm china felt restorative. We'd had another early start that morning, with a brief radio slot followed by a breakfast TV show, and the repetition of it all had been playing on my nerves more than usual.

"Are you okay? You sounded a little edgy when Paul asked you about How Can I Tell You."

"Really? You mean I didn't sound thrilled to be answering the same questions for the millionth time in two weeks?" I made no attempt to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"It's all part of the game, Cara, you knew that going in."

I looked at Rick as he took a sip of his own coffee; he drank it black with two sugars, just like Ben, which for some reason I found amusing. My tough-looking, tattoo-covered manager looked a little out of place in this cutesy-kitsch café we'd found ourselves in, in the heart of Derby. Doilies, flowerpots, gingham and cross-stitched words of inspiration surrounded us – even I felt a little uncomfortable.

"You're right." I set my cup down. "I'm sorry Rick, it's just getting to me today; I'm not sure why. I'll behave for the next lot, I promise." I had another three radio slots to do that afternoon.

"It's okay, we all have bad days – just close your eyes and think of Queen and country." We both laughed, and any tension was instantly dismissed. "I have some news that might cheer you up," he said, a glint of something I couldn't quite define in his brown eyes and I waited patiently for him to tell me. "Bob rang to say he's had to put his twentieth celebration back a couple of weeks – some renovations that are taking longer than expected, apparently. So you're free from July fourteenth through to August first. "

I stared at him, unwilling at first to believe what he was saying, not allowing myself to get too excited, though my heart started pumping faster and I'd have sworn I could hear it. "Get out of town!"

He just grinned at me and I knew he wasn't kidding; I leaned over and planted a big kiss on his smooth dome, knowing I had a matching grin spreading over my own face. Scrabbling in my bag, I dug out my phone and sent a text to Ben; I didn't have to wait long for his reply.

Cara: Are you still free second half of July?

Ben: Yes, why?

Cara: You. Me. Wedding. The game is on.

Ben: Fuck! Really?

Cara: Really, really.

Ben: I'll call Jessica. Can't wait. Love you xx

Cara: I like you mildly also xx

Ben: Kooky wench

I laughed out loud, unsure whether to send a bunch of emoticons in response or just let him have the last word. Oh, what the heck, I'm feeling generous!

The rest of the day passed in a much more pleasant manner, Rick telling me later I was in sparkling form for the other interviews. As we drove towards Kettering, our destination for the night, he brought up Ed's offer of signing with his new label.