Page 58 of Forever Mr Black

“Where’s he gone?”

Lucy glances at the note on the desk and shrugs. “Dunno. It doesn’t say. You’re his fiancée. Shouldn’t you know?”

I look through the front doors and out at the gravel driveway beyond, racking my brains. The realisation of where he is creeps up on me slowly. A churning feeling starts in my stomach, the way it always does when I think about him and her. For a second, I don’t know why I feel so unsettled, and then I remember.

“I do know where he is. He’s with Aisling.”

Lucy gives me an uncertain look. “Oh, right … why?”

I fold my arms as the uneasiness I felt yesterday floods back. “She asked him to go with her to look at a new car because she doesn’t know anything about them, and she’s got no one else to ask, apparently.”

“Right,” Lucy says slowly. “And by the look on your face, you’re thinking they’re having mad, passionate sex instead?” She chucks the Biro down on the desk. “I don’t think so.”

Neither do I. Do I?

“He says they’re just friends.”

“You trust him, right?”

“Yes.”

“Quit worrying then. You do need to speak to him about this whole wedding thing though.” She gives me a sad smile. “I wish some guy were so in love with me that he couldn’t wait to make me his. I find it all quite romantic.”

I roll my eyes. “I find it annoying. He’s taking over, like he tries to do with bloody everything.”

We’re interrupted by George hurrying into reception from his office, clutching a white envelope. “Hello, ladies. Is Art free at the moment, Lucy?”

She arches her eyebrow. “Everybody wants a piece of the boss today, don’t they?”

That’s what I’m worried about,I think cynically.

“I’m afraid he’s not in, George; he’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

He pulls a navy handkerchief out of the front pocket of his grey checked blazer and dabs his forehead. “Oh, righto. Can you tell him I need to speak to him when he gets back?” He pushes the handkerchief back into the pocket and waves the envelope in his hand. “It’s rather important.”

We watch him hurry back to his office.

“Something’s got his knickers in a twist,” Lucy says. “He looks even more wound up than usual.”

I’m not really listening. I’m still seething from the discovery that my fiancé has booked our wedding date without even consulting me, and the green-eyed monster, which I thought had gone back into hiding, is rearing its ugly head again.

“Let me know as soon as Art gets back,” I mutter distractedly. “Because when he does, I’m going to have it out with him once and for all.”

Eighteen

Two hours later, I’m in the Orangery, tidying up. I glance at my wristwatch for what feels like the hundredth time. Without a doubt, these have been the longest one hundred twenty minutes of my life. I mean, how long does it take to look at a car, really?

A variety of conflicting emotions and thoughts knot together in my head. All underpinned with a good dose of jealousy. Despite his assurances, her words from yesterday roll through my thoughts.

“When we were together, he was truly happy.”

“… have you made him change for you? Clipped his wings and made him conform?”

I grab the shiny ribbon attached to one of the pink balloons, yank it down, and stab it with a butter knife. It explodes with a pop and drops onto the table.

“Hey, Soph.”

I glance to see Lucy poking her head around the door.

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