Page 98 of Forever Mr Black

“Excuse us both.”

We look up to see George and his friend Linda standing by the table.

“We just wanted to say what a lovely day this has been so far,” he says.

“Yes, really lovely.” Linda smiles. “Thank you for inviting us.”

I couldn’t have a wedding without inviting George.

“It’s nice to be back. From what I’ve heard, the hotel’s going from strength to strength,” he says proudly.

Bless him. He’s still taking an interest even though he retired a month ago.

“He still can’t switch off.” Linda laughs.

“I don’t think old Georgie will ever switch off when it comes to this place, will you?” Lucy teases.

He smiles. “Quite right. I’ve been keeping an eye on the feedback on Tripadvisor, and it’s really wonderful. It’s showing everyone’s hard work is paying off.”

Hard work’s an understatement. The last few months have been hectic—in a good way. Bookings at the hotel have increased by half, and we’re already fully booked for weddings next summer.

“The Christmas party evenings have gone down a storm,” I agree.

Two warm hands rest on my bare shoulders. “No talking shop today, I’m afraid.”

I twist round to see Art gazing down at me. “Like you’ve been, you mean.”

He gives me an easy smile. “Touché. I’ve finished now, I promise.” He looks at the others. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to steal my beautiful wife away from you all for a while.”

We walk into the cooler, empty Orangery.

“Are you okay?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist. “They were crowding you. I wanted to make sure you were all right. Are you?”

I laugh and link my arms around his neck. “I’m fine.” I kiss him. “You don’t need to be overprotective anymore. You’ve got me. Officially.”

“I know, but I’ll never stop being protective of you.” His eyes slide down my front, and he places a hand on my belly, smiling fondly. “Or you.”

I put my hand on top of his. “It’s getting harder to hide. Lucy asked me outright if I was, and I had to lie.”

“I know. I noticed you didn’t eat much of your dinner.” Concerned eyes search my face. “You look a little flushed. Are you sure you’re, okay?”

“Yes. Stop worrying. I’m fine. Feeling sick, looking flushed. It’s all part of the package, I think.”

He strokes his hand over my stomach. “In a month or so, we get to tell everyone our wonderful news.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who wanted to wait a few years.”

I squeeze his hand. “I know. But why wait? When you know, you know.”

He smiles. “You do,” he agrees.

I lean my cheek against his chest, and he rests his chin on the top of my head. I look through the glass doors of the Orangery, outside to the terrace, and gasp. “It’s snowing.”

“Perfect.”

And it is.

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