He plays with a loose tendril of my hair and then tucks it behind my ear. “Yes. She was just in shock.”
“I understand why you were fucked off with me,” I admit.
“I was fucked off because you took off and I was worried about you. And, yes, I was angry you’d told her at first because I didn’t understand why, but now, I get it.”
I run my fingers over the smattering of his black chest hairs. “She said what she said, and I snapped.”
“She shouldn’t have said it, and you were right. If a guy you’d slept with had said the same stuff to me, I’d have ripped the fucker’s head off.” He cups my face in his hands. “Look at me, Sophie. You need to know what she said was a lie.”
I swallow. “I can take the fact that you slept with her. But I hated the way she said you needed her. That I can’t bear. Fucking her is one thing; needing someone … that’s on another level.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he says firmly. “She’s blown it up to sound as though it were some passionate and exciting encounter when, in reality, it was very different. She didn’t …” He hesitates, and I’m not sure if I want him to carry on. “I’d just come out of prison. I lasted about five seconds. It wasn’t my finest … performance.”
I go to look away, but he continues holding my face, making me look at him. “There’s only one woman I’ve ever needed, Sophie. Who I’ll ever need, and that’s you.”
“You didn’t tell her about your childhood, did you? All that time you saw her for therapy, you didn’t discuss it,” I say.
“I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to open up to her, to any of them. You’re the only one who knows me. Who I’ve let in. You’re the only one who’s ever had all of me. The only one who ever will.”
His words hit my chest and warm my heart.
He presses his forehead to mine. “No more arguing. It kills me.”
“No more,” I agree.
“You’re all I need, Sophie Ward.” He presses a kiss to my lips, and I’m mush. “Forever.”
Twenty-Five
Barbara is standing on the doorstep bright and early the next morning, looking very sophisticated in a cream polo neck jumper and slim beige trousers. A pair of round Chanel sunglasses sit on top of her head. Thankfully, I’m dressed and showered, and I was just about to make breakfast. Two out of three isn’t bad.
I’m instantly nervous. “Oh, er … hello, Barbara.”
“Good morning, Sophie dear. Are you okay?”
I ruined her birthday and gave her a pretty big shock yesterday. I didn’t expect this. “Erm, yes, I’m fine, thank you.”
Her eyes scan me up and down like she’s making sure I really am okay.
I smile politely. “Come on in.”
She follows me into the kitchen.
“Art’s not in. He’d already left to go for a run when I got up.”
“It’s you I’m here to see.”
This sounds ominous.
She sits her expensive-looking handbag on the counter and takes a seat on a stool. “I’ve not been able to stop thinking about the terrible to-do yesterday. I just had to come to see how you were.”
I begin to relax slightly. Maybe she’s not annoyed with me. “I’m fine. I’m just sorry you found out that way.” I hesitate. “But Aisling told me things that I really didn’t want to hear.”
“She’s always had a bit of sting in her tail, that one,” Barbara says darkly.
“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.”
“You did nothing of the sort. Aisling did that.” She raps her polished nails against the marble top and looks at me thoughtfully. “I’d always known there was something there, but I could never put my finger on it. I just thought … I never dreamt … she was his therapist. A friend of the family. Poor Cecilia took the news even worse than I did. She was very proud of Aisling’s achievements, and to think she’s been so unprofessional is heart-breaking. Don’t get me wrong; I know Art’s no saint, and it takes two to tango, but what she did was despicable. I told her I want nothing more to do with her.” She smiles. “But I needed to see for myself that you were okay.”