Page 43 of Forever Mr Black

I’m pleased our parents get on. At least that’s one hurdle overcome.

“Thank you all for coming.”

“You need to let me know what colour you decide on for the wedding as soon as you’ve chosen it, so I can start looking for my outfit,” Mum warns, pointing a finger at me.

I smile. “You’ll be the first to know, Mum.”

Lucy puts her bag in the car. “Oh yeah … and I’m presuming I’m your maid of honour?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I don’t want a dodgy dress, mind,” she teases.

I laugh. “Now, would I do that to you?”

“Do what to her?” Art asks from beside me.

I fold my arms. I didn’t hear him arrive. Even if I am acting a bit crazy jealous over Aisling, I’m still annoyed with him about the whole wedding-venue debacle.

“Choose a horrid bloody bridesmaid dress for me,” Lucy says when I don’t reply.

He pushes a hand through his hair and laughs softly. “Oh, right. That’s Sophie’s area, I’m afraid.”

We say our good-byes and watch them drive off. Art and I need to talk, but I’m not sure what to say or where to start, so I say nothing, and I turn to walk back around the side of the house. But Art catches my hand and pulls me to him. He slides his arms around my waist, and he holds me tightly against his chest, keeping me there.

Serious eyes search my face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

A faint crease appears on his brow. “You seem pissed off. I’m sorry I haven’t spent much time with you tonight. I couldn’t get away from people.”

“I know; it’s fine.”

He glides his hands up my arms and rests them on top of my shoulders. “But you’re not.”

I force a smile. I’m not about to have it out with him here. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

He cups my face in his hands, and I can tell by the look in his eye he’s not buying it. “This is about Ash, isn’t it?”

“Amongst other things.”

He shakes his head, his gaze softening. “Sophie …”

His phone rings, and he pulls it from the back pocket of his jeans with a frown. “I need to take this; it’s the hotel.” He looks at me. “When I’m done, we’re going home, and we’re going to talk. I don’t like you feeling this way. Okay?”

I smile weakly. “Okay.”

I leave him to take the call and head back. All the guests have left, and the place is empty, except for a couple of waiters collecting up the empty glasses and plates.

I pick up the last glass of champagne from the table, and I find myself heading across the stepping stones, away from the house to the secret garden. Art’s haven.

Silver slivers of moonlight streak through the trees and across the green bench. Even in the darkness, it looks enchanting.

Art comes here when he’s got a problem, and he always leaves with the answer. Maybe I should give it a go.

“I’m glad we’ve an opportunity to talk in private.”

The unfamiliar female voice snaps me back to reality. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and see red hair.

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