Page 13 of Forever Mr Black

I slice into the perfectly cooked poached egg and watch the golden yolk ooze onto the crispy bacon. Divine.

Art tucks into his muffin and shoots me a look. “I’m sorry if Mum talked your ear off last night about the engagement party.”

Barbara forced hot chocolate on us and kept us talking for an hour, insisting we decide on a date for the party so she can organise caterers. We opted for a date in a couple of weeks’ time, when I’ve got a free Sunday. In fact, apart from giving her some numbers and promising to pass on contact details for the people I’d like to be invited, I don’t have to do anything, as she’s happy to organise pretty much everything. I can’t deny that I’m a little bit relieved. I spend nearly every waking moment organising and planning for other people, and the fact that someone’s doing it for me is a pleasant change.

“It’s fine. It will be nice for your mum to meet Mum and Martin. I really appreciate her organising everything for the party though. Luckily for me, I know Mum hates organising stuff like this—she’s told me a million times she could never do my job. Are you sure Barbara’s okay with it?”

“She said so herself, it keeps her busy, and she loves it. If I’m being honest, I’m not that fussed about having a party, but you’re right; it will be nice for our parents to meet. Of course, it also means that I get to show off my beautiful bride-to-be, and that’s all that matters.”

I put down my fork and take a sip of coffee. “Hmm, the breakfast and now the buttering me up. Anyone might think you’re after something,” I tease.

He laughs softly. “I’m always after something where you’re concerned.”

I smile. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

When I’m at work the next morning, my time’s consumed with finalising preparations for next week’s wedding and taking bookings for the final cocktail evening this weekend. Word must have got around because there’s a flurry of last-minute bookings coming in. The knock on my office door at midday provides a welcome reprieve from staring at my laptop screen and answering telephone calls.

Lucy walks in, wearing a serene smile and a pink flush to her cheeks. She’s got the look of love in her eye. I’m immediately worried. It’s only been just over a week since she got married and then separated, all in the space of twenty-four hours. There can only be one thing that’s causing her dreamy countenance. I haven’t caught up with her properly since Ibiza, but I don’t need to ask what she’s been up to.

“Morning,” she says, sitting on the edge of my desk.

“Morning. How’s Big Steve?”

Her eyes light up at the mention of his name. “Very well, thank you.”

I settle back and fold my arms, swivelling round in my chair to face her. “And have you and Big Steve become better acquainted, or don’t I need to ask?”

“No, actually.” Lucy gives me a defensive look. “Not how you’re thinking anyway.”

I’m not buying it, and the look on my face must say so because she frowns.

“Honestly. We’ve kissed, nothing more. Neither of us wants to rush things.”

She must really like him.

“I thought you and he might have stayed on in Ibiza a bit longer … you know, just the two of you.”

“Yeah, well, to be honest, it felt a little odd after a few days. It was lovely, him coming out there, but I was meant to be there with Mark. It was weird to be therewith another guy.” She looks down at the floor sadly. “Anyway, staying there would only have meant I was putting off the inevitable of sorting out all the shit that was waiting for me back here.”

I sigh wearily at her predicament. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Lucy gives me a weak smile. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a magic wand you can wave to get my parents to come round to the idea of my divorce, have you?”

Shit. “You’ve told them then?”

“I went round yesterday. It was awful. I don’t think they could quite believe it at first. I can’t really blame them. In the end, Dad came round, but Mum’s still struggling. She wasn’t really speaking to me when I left. They’d spent thousands on the wedding, and in her eyes, Mark’s perfect. He’s got a good job, we’ve got a nice house, but none of that matters if you’re with the wrong person and unhappy.”

I can’t argue with that.

She twists a strand of hair around her finger and gives a defeated sigh. “Anyway, enough about my troubles. What’s going on with you? Booked that wedding of yours yet?”

“Hardly. The last few days haven’t been great for me either.”

“Oh good. I’m glad I’m not having all the shit.” Lucy laughs. “Do tell.”

I fill her in on the events of the past few days but skip the part about Theo calling up my parents because I still feel guilty about not telling Art about that yet.

“Shit, I’m really sorry to hear about Martin. That’s awful. Your poor mum. And Theo treated you like shit. I wouldn’t have stopped Art,” she says stoutly. “I’d have let him go after Theo. I bet Art knows a few people who could sort him out—or even better … pay for a hit on him.”

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