I know what I’m doing this time.

No coincidence brought me to her. No interfering mother, friend or brother. I’m here of my own volition.

I’m here because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

Eight weeks ago, I left her with a few pathetic apologies, and I haven’t stopped thinking of her since.

My days are glorious and filled with watching my kids play and grow and relishing being the centre of their worlds. I absorb everything it means to be a father and each day with them brings back a little of the man I want to be again.

I will always be grateful to Laura for giving me them, even if I lost her because of her devotion to our kids, but I feel like it’s time to try for something more.

The anniversary of Laura’s death and Arthur’s birthday was bittersweet. My entire family were by my side to celebrate both my special little boy coming into this world and Laura’s life.

We laughed, we cried, we hugged, we mended, and despite it being the second hardest day of my life, I survived.

No, that’s wrong. I didn’t just survive it. I grew stronger.

The people that surrounded me filled me with the strength not to break. They held me together until I had the ability to do so myself.

That was two weeks ago and tonight is the penultimate one before my parents fly home, and it will be just the kids and me again. It’s likely my last chance to fix something else that’s broken. Something I am responsible for shattering into pieces. Even if she wants nothing to do with me, I owe her that at least.

So here I am, pulling into the empty parking garage at Aurora.

With Nate back in the U.K. fighting to repair his relationship with the woman he loves, I’m here trying to begin one with the woman I can’t get out of my head.

I check my appearance in the rear-view mirror, feeling like a teenager all over again. I’ve only ever dated one woman, and I was a kid when we met, and a nerdy kid at that. I don’t know the art of flirting or the etiquette of seduction. I don’t know the dos and don’ts of dating, but what I do know is that we share something that is worth exploring, worth restarting the right way, even after all the wrongs.

As I make my way through the corridors behind the main club, I let myself into Nate’s office and flick on his wall of security screens. I don’t want her to see me until the time is right, and I don’t want to put her off kilter because I know she has an important set tonight. It’s her first one as a signed headliner at Aurora, and the last thing I want to do is fuck it up for her in any way.

When Nate told me he’d offered her the contract, I almost called to congratulate her, but thought better of it, wanting to see her in person.

So, I sit, and I wait.

Around thirty minutes later I watch as her friend Rachel introduces her to the packed crowd. Then, with sure strides, I make my way through the side door that will bring me out into the club where I can watch her sing and wait for her mid-show break.

She’s just taken to the stage when I opened the door and I hear the first, spine-tingling chords of her guitar.

Just as before, I’m caught up in her orbit.

The crowd fades away, and my eyes drink in everything about her from the long, wispy braid that sits on her shoulder, to the pale lemon dress that skims her ankles. She wears a white rose in her hair, and I watch as her eyes close and her mouth opens to pour out her soul.

Your lips tell lies but your eyes betray them

You think I believe, so you say it again.

Sorry is a word with a weight on your shoulders

I’m sorry that I’m here, but she’ll never get older.

With you.

Your arms are strong, but they’ll never hold me

I refuse to be used, tossed aside and demeaned.

Sorry is a word you only use if you mean it

I’m sorry you’re too broken to see or believe it.

For you.

Your name on my lips is a curse, not a blessing

The pain worn on your face is a torment that distresses.

Sorry is a word I would say free and open

I’m sorry we’ll never be ‘cos I can’t do broken.

For me.

One day you’ll awake, and the clouds will recede

Grey skies in your eyes when your heart stops to bleed.

If you look very close you can see all you’ve found

I’m sorry for that I will not be around.

For us.

With you.

For you.

For me.

For us.

I’m sorry that for that I’ll never be around.

For us.

I know this time without a doubt that this song, those words, are for me.

Every intake of breath, every held note, every modulation, is meant for me.

She may have told me to go, but she kept me with her, and I was important enough to immortalise with her art.

There’s a chance - an opportunity to restart, to resume, to revive and to resurrect.

Her heartfelt goodbye, and her melodious vow that what we had is gone, only proves it’s alive, still breathing between us, just waiting for the kiss of life.

I wait. I listen. I soak up her entire performance until she strums the last note on a cover of David Grey’s, This Year’s Love.

No more lies, Halle.

No more using.

No more hurting you because I’m hurting too.

I watch as she gracefully lifts her guitar from over her torso and rests it on a stand before turning to the crowd and giving a small, cute curtsy at their rapturous applause, their whistles and their calls for more.

“Thanks, guys. You’ve been kind to me, but I’m going to take a quick break, and I’ll be back. Grab a drink, grab a guy, grab a girl-” she scrunches up her face and amends “-only if they are consenting to the grabbing, and I’ll see you back here in half an hour.”

She quickly descends the stage and heads off to her dressing room. I count to ten to steady the beat of my heart and temper the shaking of my hands, before I follow her.

“Sorry, it’s staff only in here,” she calls over her shoulder. She stands at the small sink in the far corner of the room dabbing at her face with a damp washcloth before running it down her neck and around the back to her nape.

I stay silent and watch. My eyes devour every inch of tanned skin, and every fluid movement created by the curves of her body.

She’s stunning, and she doesn’t even know it.

“I said, it’s staff only.”

Finally, she turns to face me and the slight irritation on her face at being interrupted fades into shock and then blankness.

“Josh, what are you doing here?”

I’m not here to play games, so I answer her honestly.

“To see you.”

Her face remains emotionless, and even though we don’t know each other well I know Halle enough to remember that she very openly wears her heart on her sleeve, so I’m hoping it’s just shock that has her standing before me like an inanimate statue. Because the thought of what passed between us being the cause for this cold, detached reaction would be like a punch to my already churning guts.

“The song, ‘Sorry’ was that about us? About me?”

I hadn’t planned on asking that question, but her non-reaction has thrown me. I expected her to tell me to get lost, or if I was really lucky, maybe I’d get a smile or even another slap. Anything would be better than the way she’s staring right through me.

She clears her throat, blinks slowly, and I see my question finally register.

“Yes,” she says quietly and simply. “I wrote it straight after you left.”

This is better. A quiet reaction is better than none at all.

“I meant it you know, my apology I mean,” I confess, hoping against hope that she didn’t think it all lies.

“I know you did, but it doesn’t change anything. You’re still you, the man in love with a ghost, and I’m still me, the girl that has a closet full of them.”

“There could be an us. Maybe together we can banish them. Exorcise them all, set them and us free.”

She shakes her head sadly and dread pools in my stomach. I’ve already ruined any chance we have, and this is the part where she’s going to tell me to walk away.

“Life isn’t that simple, Josh. You know that. When you start something as wrong as we did, you don’t get a do-over.”

“Don’t say that. You feel this between us. I know you do.”

My voice is all but a plea. I’m not willing to walk away from her until she tells me to go.

“That’s another thing, Josh. Feelings are never simple either. We all crave what isn’t good for us. We all want to pig out on chocolate and avoid anything green. We all want to overindulge when it’s all the excess that will kill us. Emotions, feelings, wants and needs are indicators, not deciding factors. We can choose to follow them or ignore. We can choose what is healthy for us and what will harm us. I’m choosing, Josh, and for once in my life that choice is me.”

There’s the girl I wanted to see. The passionate, feisty girl that stood on my doorstep my first day in Ibiza and dropped everything all over the floor at my feet.

“Have you finished?” I ask as I stare at her, watching the quick rise and fall of her chest as she fights to catch her breath. I want more than anything to walk over and take her mouth with mine, but if I’ve learnt anything, I know she’s not ready for that, and I’m not either.

She looks at me, her brow furrowing in confusion. I guess she thought that after her impassioned speech I’d give up and walk out. She’s wrong. With a soft nod of her head, she gives me everything I need to know. She’s telling me she wants to hear what I have to say.

“I don’t know what’s happened in your life, Halle, but I want to know. I want to know everything about you. I want to know why you feel it’s only now that you’re putting yourself first and I want to know all about the ghosts that fill your closet.”

She opens her mouth to interrupt, and I hold my hand up to still her.

“Please, let me say this, and if your choice is the same, I’ll walk away.”

A beat of silence follows and then another of her soft nods.

“You have me at a disadvantage because you know the ghost that I carry inside. You know that just over a year ago I lost my wife.” I swallow, my throat tightening at my admission but I push through it and carry on because she needs to know everything. Her eyes soften at my admission, but I’m thankful she doesn’t offer me the socially expected sympathy.

“What you may also know is that she died when my son was born, but there are many things you don’t know.”

I take a step forward and she doesn’t retreat or tell me to stop, so I take another and continue.

“I haven’t shared my story with anyone. I haven’t shared her story with anyone, but I’m choosing, if you’ll let me, to share it with you.”

Another step forward until I’m almost close enough to touch her.

“I’m not going to lie, it’s ugly, but it begins with beauty. It’s also hard to admit, but something inside me wants to purge it and hopes that by the end you’ll accept my apology because you’ll see I’m not that man anymore, or I’m trying hard not to be.”

One more step, and if I lifted my arm right now, I’d be able to cup her cheek or run my fingertips over her pink mouth.

“I’m making a choice right now too. I’m choosing me, but in doing so, I’m hoping that choice will lead me to you.”

“Josh,” her voice is barely a whisper, and my name is clogged with emotions she can’t express.

“When I told you before that you’re not her I wasn’t trying to hurt you. You are not her, and I don’t want you to be. I’m standing before you right now, asking for another chance because you’re you. And I want to know everything about you. The good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful. Because, Halle,” I whisper her name as I reach out to touch her face, unable to stop myself any longer. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”