Page 114 of Under Your Spell

He doesn’t say my name, doesn’t have to. It hangs in the air, there in the lingering rhyme. He doesn’t say my name but it feels like he’s breathing it across my skin.

‘Oh my God,’ I whisper.

‘Holy shit,’ Lil rasps.

‘Yup.’ Serena sounds resigned.

After the first song, I think I may get a reprieve, but I don’t. Song after lovely song, they’re all about me. Hundreds of little inside jokes tease through the lyrics, references to sea shells, to label makers, to green dresses, toasted marshmallows, magic islands, and jam jars filled with daisies.

When a track starts that sounds different to the ones that have come before, not sweet or delicate, but with a pulsing growl of bass, a shriek of electric guitar, I feel my toes curl. The music builds. Theo’s voice is low and wicked, the whole thing is a meticulous act of seduction.

‘What’s this one called?’ I ask Serena.

‘ “Serial Killer”,’ she says, lifting her eyebrows when I choke on a laugh. ‘And I don’t think I want to know why.’

‘If it feels like this, it’s a wonder the two of you ever got out of bed.’ Lil’s eyes are round.

‘Yeah, it feels like this,’ I say distantly, every nerve ending in my body responding to the thrum of the music.

‘Sex mist,’ Lil murmurs, awed.

The song ends, but there’s still more to come. ‘Did he just… make a joke about The Wife of Bath?’ I ask at one point, dazed. As well as the obscure medieval literature references, there’s a song that I’m 99.9% sure is about our favourite couple in Blood/Lust.

I am startled again when, instead of Theo, another voice starts to sing. I turn wide-eyed to Lil, who only nods. It’s the song they started writing in Northumberland, and Theo steps aside, leaves Lil space to shine. Her voice is sweet and dreamy, Theo’s a soft echo, harmonizing with her, the two of them blending into something magic, his guitar the only other accompaniment.

Weird, wayward, wilful, wild,

Salt in the air, laugh like a child

Stars in our hair, a charm in our smiles

Write our names in silver sand.

Three sisters dancing, hand in hand.

The three of us sit, our arms wrapped around each other, as the music soars through the room. Even Serena and Lil who have obviously heard it before seem stunned into silence. It’s such a tender, perfect expression of our relationship. I can hear Lil in the lyrics, feel our stories weaving around us, the history of who we are, who we’ve been to each other. I feel a wave of love for them that threatens to crush me, and I can’t believe that Theo made space for this – a tribute to my sisters, my soulmates – in what is essentially the story of us. The rightness of it knocks me sideways.

After this there’s only one song left. I’m honestly not sure my heart can take any more, but as Theo sings about heartbreak and mistakes, the final thread of my composure slips.

They can call me cursed if they want to,

But if I had three wishes,

Each one would be for you.

You.

You.

You.

And as his voice breaks on the last note, so do I. I cry in a way that I’ve never cried before, heavy, racking sobs that are painful and sweet. I lie with my head in Lil’s lap, Serena’s hand stroking my back, and I feel stripped clean, completely light.

It’s a perfect love letter. And he wrote it just for me.

‘He knows me,’ I say dazedly. ‘He knows all of me so well.’

‘Jesus, Clemmie,’ Serena says, scrubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘If you don’t marry the man, I think I might have to.’