Page 56 of Forever Mr Black

He takes my hands in his and grins. “I’m relieved, and I kind of like the idea of being the guy who gave that to you.”

“I thought you might.”

His smile disappears. “Are we okay?”

“Yes. Why are you so worried?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “It just didn’t feel right, me being that way with you … speaking to you like I did. When I did it at the club, it was for a reason …” He hesitates, and I know he’s choosing his words. “The others, they enjoyed being spoken to like that, but it wasn’t the same with you—you’re not the same—and when I woke up and you weren’t in bed …” His throat works.

“What, you freaked out?”

The look in his eyes tells me I’m right. “I was worried … you didn’t like the side of me you saw last night.”

“What, and you thought I’d left you?” I shake my head. “No, Art. I’m still here. Where I’ll always be. Even if you were a bastard,” I tease.

Once again, my attempt at humour falls flat.

“Do you see how different last night was? Do you see how that doesn’t even touch how we are with one another … what we’ve got?”

It was cool, detached, perfunctory sex in the main. There was no warmth, love, or affection. It was just sex, like he always said it was.

“Yes,” I admit. “Thank you for showing me.”

He smiles. “You’re the best, you know?”

I frown, unsure what he means. “The best what?”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “The best sex, lover, friend … I’ve ever had.”

My heart swells with unexpected emotion. I kiss him to stop myself from welling up.

“It’s the same for me,” I say, my voice cracking.

“Don’t ask me to show you again.”

I nod. “I know it was hard for you. Thank you.”

“I don’t want to go back to that part of my past anymore.”

And as he kisses me languidly, I decide that’s fine by me.

Seventeen

Istand on the periphery of the Orangery and scan the christening party that’s in full flow. Pretty pink and white balloons decorate the rectangular tables where the party of twenty are sitting. Waiting staff weave back and forth, serving food and drinks. The hum of conversation and laughter tell me everyone’s having a good time. I’m not needed. Exactly as it should be.

The bar and reception are typically quiet for midweek. Lucy’s at the desk, frowning at something or other on the laptop screen. This is the first time I’ve seen her all day, but I don’t need to ask to know that something’s up.

“Hi, Luce. Did you have a good morning off?”

“Apart from the fact that my parents aren’t talking to me, it was hunky-dory, thanks.”

“What? Why?”

She slumps back in the chair, deflated. “Mum knew it was my morning off, so she decided to pop round unexpectedly because she wanted to treat me to breakfast, which was really nice of her. What wasn’t so nice was that Steve had stayed over at mine last night, and we were”—she shoots me a look, and her cheeks turn pink— "in the middle of things.”

I pull a face. “Shit. How did that go?”

She buries her face in her hands. “Fucking awful. At first, I tried to say he was a friend, but she knew I was lying. Things got a bit aerated, and she stormed out. I felt like a teenager getting caught out, shagging my boyfriend.”

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