Page 1 of Forever Mr Black

One

Silence fills my ears as Art hangs up the phone. My legs wobble, and I sink down onto the sofa before they give way entirely.

“Do I know all of Sophie Ward or only half of her?

I press a clammy palm to my forehead as Art’s words circle in my thoughts. He knows all of me. He’s got all of me.

Heart and soul.

What happened between Theo and me happened to the old Sophie. I’m not the same person I was back then. He messed up so many things for me while we were together. No … I allowed him to mess things up because I thought he loved me. For a while, I was totally convinced. But he controlled and emotionally manipulated me, hiding behind the guise of a boyfriend with his girlfriend’s best interests at heart.

“If you loved me, you’d let me.”

And I bought it for a while. The disingenuous remarks and emotional blackmail aimed at crumbling my resolve, so he could get his own way. We’d been together for ages before I saw him for who he really was. He convinced me he loved me. Maybe he did, but it wasn’t the sort of love I ever wanted to experience again. But that was then, and this is now. I’m stronger, not racked with self-doubt. I’ve more confidence. Because of Art. His words of adoration. The way he makes me feel like a goddess, just by looking at me. It’s all because of him.

I feel a pang in my chest.

Theo’s not messing things up for me anymore.

I won’t allow it.

I jump to my feet and grab my car keys from the coffee table.

I need to tell Art about what happened with Theo.

I need him to explain what the hell he was doing with Aisling.

I need to stop my past from fucking up my future.

And above all … I need to find him.

I rapidly press his number on speed dial, and my heart sinks further into my flip-flops as my call is redirected straight to voice mail.

He’s done talking.

But I’m not.

My mobile springs to life and, with it, a feeling of hope in my chest.

“Art?”

“Sophie?”

The sound of a familiar female voice on the other end of the phone takes me back. I blink through the confusion as I realise who it is.

“Mum?”

“Oh, Sophie, thank God.” She sniffs. Her voice is thick with emotion, and it’s obvious she’s been crying. “I need you to come quick.”

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s Martin, love. He’s been rushed to hospital. I think he’s having a heart attack.”

The sterile bright lights sting my eyes as I sit on the hard plastic chair in the ill-named Family Room. There’s nothing family-friendly or comforting about the small white box we’ve been sitting in for the past three hours.

The navy-blue carpet tiles are covered with a myriad of brown stains and trodden-in marks from over the years, and the well-worn floral sofa on the opposite wall has seen better days. The battered pine coffee table is marked with mug stains and leaflets about lowering cholesterol and healthy eating.

I stare down at my hands and anxiously pick at the skin around my fingernails. My stomachs in knots from the not knowing. All we’ve done for the past three hours is wait, wait, and wait some more while tests are done, drugs are administered, and more tests are carried out.

---