Page 20 of Wanting Mr Black

“Do you have any memories of her at all?”

“A few. Some good, some bad. There were different men at the flat all the time. Sometimes, I’d hear screaming and shouting, and I’d be scared and hide under my bed. Some nights, she’d cry and get into bed with me, and I’d tell her I’d look after her. She’d say over and over, 'Ti amo.' Even though I was only little, I remember wanting to protect her but knowing I couldn’t.”

I want to wrap my arms around him but stop myself because he’s talking. He’s opening up, and I want him to carry on.

“They beat me.” He looks at the floor, and my stomach turns over. “The foster carers who I lived with before Mum and Dad. The guy beat me.” He pushes his fingers through his hair. “He’d been in the Army, a real disciplinarian. He thought he could make me behave by beating me with whatever took his fancy. It didn’t work. Every time he hit me, it just strengthened my determination not to change.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I don’t understand how an adult could do that to a child. “Art …”

“I’m sorry.” He pushes himself off the desk and stands in front of me. “I’m sorry for losing my shit earlier when I found out you knew stuff about my childhood. It’s just … I don’t talk about it. My memories from when I lived with my mother, being shunted around different foster homes … even now, it’s not something I talk about. I don’t like going back there.”

He slides his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. I want him to open up to me. I want to know everything about this man, but I know it will take time. I try not to think about the things I still haven’t told him about my own past.

“When you’re ready, you can talk to me,” I offer.

“I know, and I will … in time.” He rests his forehead against mine. “Move in with me.”

Although we’ve talked about this, I wasn’t expecting him to bring it up again so soon – and certainly not here. I hesitate. I was all set to a couple of days ago.

“What’s changed, Sophie?”

His lips brush mine, and I link my arms around his neck, his kiss weakening my resolve. “I want to drift off to sleep with you in my arms every night. I want to wake up and not know whether I’m dreaming or not because you’re there.” He kisses me again.

I smile. “Okay, but only if you promise to practice your cooking skills. I can’t survive on toast and fruit salad.”

“Deal.” He grins.

Eleven

The next few days pass by in a blur of baby showers, christenings, a fiftieth wedding anniversary, finalising arrangements for Lucy’s wedding, and moving my belongings into Art’s. I’m relieved when Thursday rolls round as it’s nearly the weekend.

As I head down the corridor from my office and into reception, I notice an uncharacteristically glum-looking Lucy, staring into space from behind the desk. She’s getting married in two days; I would have expected her to be hopping with excitement by now.

“So, are you all set for Saturday?” I say, giving her a playful nudge with my elbow.

She blinks up at me in surprise, looking genuinely confused by the question. “What?”

“Your wedding,” I remind her. “You know, the happiest day of your life.”

“Yeah, great. Everything’s fine.”

It’s weird that this is the first wedding I’ve organised and participated in as a guest. I’ve had to hand control over for Saturday’s proceedings because I won’t be able to oversee the day and take part in it. I prattle on to Lucy about the arrangements I’ve made and various other wedding-related details, but I soon notice she’s not paying attention.

Judging from her bored expression, she couldn’t care less.

Something’s wrong.

“You don’t look like a bride who’s less than forty-eight hours away from her wedding.”

“Mmhmm.” She scrunches up her nose and twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “I don’t feel like one either.”

I know she and Mark have been going through a bit of a rocky patch, but it’s not unusual for tensions to run high in the weeks leading up to a wedding.

“Are you okay?”

She sighs and offers me a weak smile. “Yeah, I’m just tired. I’ve got the day off tomorrow, and I planned on having a bit of me time, but Mum and Sarah have insisted that I go out to lunch with them.” She pulls a face at the thought. “I’m really not in the mood, to be honest. I’m not in the mood for anything at the moment.”

“I’m not surprised. Like you said, you’re tired. You’ve a lot going on.”

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