Page 73 of Forever Mr Black

Concerned eyes meet mine. “You minimised what he did to you when you were together, and you’re minimising this now.”

He’s seen right through me. I shift uncomfortably on the stool in the knowledge that Art’s hit the nail on the head.

“It was how I dealt with all the crap …”

“Fucking hell, Sophie. I’m not getting at you.” Art dashes a hand through his hair in irritation. But he’s not pissed off with me; he’s angry with Theo. “The shit he put you through …” He shakes his head like he still can’t quite believe it. “I get it, but eventually, you have to face up to stuff. I’ve learned that the hard way. Theo called up your parents to try and turn them against me. He sent you a letter, asking you tomeet him. After all this time and everything he put you through, he thought he had a fucking right to do that.” He taps a finger against his temple. “The guy’s not right in the head, which makes him a risk.” He hesitates before carrying on, “I think he’s laying low for a while.”

I feel sick. I hate to admit it, but I suspect Art’s right.

“We think someone’s told Theo about my past and where we live, but maybe we’re wrong. Maybe it’s just him. He knows where you work. He could have followed you back here.”

The thought sends a shiver down my spine. “But that doesn’t explain how he knows about you going to prison.”

Art shrugs and glances around the room. “I dunno … my PR stopped it from getting out into the press, but I went to court and got sent down. There are records. If he went looking for dirt on me, he’d find it if he searched hard enough. He seems unhinged enough to do it.”

I twist my mug round.

Art picks up on it because he says, “It doesn’t matter what he’s got planned. I’m going to be ready for him when he makes a reappearance.”

I feel slightly better. “So, we just sit tight and wait?”

“Pretty much.”

I heave a frustrated sigh, put my mug down and cover my face with my hands. “I hate this. I’m tired of talking about him. I feel like he’s still controlling me after all these years.”

“He’s not, Sophie.” Art’s voice softens, and the next thing I know, he tugs my hands from my face, and he’s sitting on the stool beside me. He laces his fingers through mine. “It’s like you said before; he’ll only win if we let him drive a wedge between us. He’s not going to do that, and he’s not controlling our lives. I’m not running because of that twisted fuck. But I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

I watch as he brushes his thumbs across my knuckles. Art’s right. Theo dictated and controlled four years of my life. There’s no way I’m letting him do that again. And there’s no way I’m running either.

“I just want to switch my brain off from thinking about this whole bloody mess for a while.”

Art nods. “Well, I need to pop by and see Mum this afternoon. And she’ll be gagging to bend your ear off about the wedding.” He smiles. “Do you want to come?”

“Of course. That sounds great.” Wedding talk is bound to take my mind off things.

Art grimaces. “Actually, it’s her birthday, and I completely forgot. Thank God for online florists and birthday cards.”

“Tut-tut. You’re a bad son,” I tease.

“I know. I feel bad, but everything’s been so hectic lately.” He kisses the back of my hand. “I want us to forget about all this shit for a while too. Why don’t we take a look at some wedding venues this evening?”

The wedding.

“You were right.” I hesitate. “The hotel is a nice wedding venue. And I’ve been thinking … it’s kind of an important place for us, isn’t it? Without it, we wouldn’t have met. It would be nice for us to get married there, and it would be a lovely sentiment to get married on the twenty-third of December too.”

Art’s face lights up. “Really? Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel as though you have to do any of it.”

I cover his hands with mine. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s a special date to you, so it’s special to me. And the hotel is beautiful at Christmas. Hopefully, we might get snow.”

He cups my face and kisses me. “I can’t wait.”

I beam at the thought. “Neither can I.”

His hands glide up the bare skin of my thighs and disappear beneath the edge of my jumper. He presses his lips to mine. “I like this. It looks cute.”

My breath catches in my throat as his fingertips stroke the sensitive flesh between my legs. He moans softly against my mouth at the discovery I’m not wearing any knickers, and the vibration sends a bolt of desire to my core.

A knock sounds at the front door.

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