Page 51 of Wanting Mr Black

She shoots me a look, which tells me she doesn’t agree. “The accident’s in his past. Everyone’s got one.”

“Yeah, but what he did …”

“I know, I know. But I can see it from both sides.” She gives my hand a reassuring pat. “I get why you’re so upset. He should have told you sooner,butI get why he struggled. As soon as he heard how your dad died, he must have felt awful. And scared of what you’d do when you found out.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to stem my trembling lip and look out of the window into blackness. “He should have told me, especially after last time. Instead, he just used Dad’s death and the fact that he was scared of losing me as an excuse for not telling me.”

“Maybe they’re not excuses. Maybe it’s the truth.”

I lean back against the headrest and close my eyes. An intense ache throbs across my forehead, telling me I need to stop drinking and go to sleep. Above all, I need to forget for a while.

Twenty-Five

For a moment, when I wake, I’m lying in Art’s arms in bed, and nothing bad has happened. Then, the thumping in my temples snatches the blissful utopia away. He’s not here. I’m alone. Feeling like shit.

The room is far too white and bright, and I close my eyes tightly as memories from the previous night flood back. Wine. Cosmopolitans. Dancing. More wine.

I groan and peel my eyes open. I look down to find I’m still wearing my black dress from last night, and my skin itches from the make-up that I neglected to take off before I passed out on the bed. What a mess.

The sound of the balcony door sliding open scratches through my brain.

“Wow, it’s boiling out there!” Lucy exclaims far too brightly, floating in from the balcony, dressed in a hot-pink cover-up.

I push myself up onto my elbows, meeting her perkiness with a frown. “How can you be so chirpy? You drank far more than me.”

She points a finger at me. “You’re a lightweight. Come on. Get dressed. We’re going down to the pool.”

The thought of gathering enough energy to pull myself out of bed and get ready seems totally out of reach. I flop back down. “I’m hungover,” I grumble. “Anyway, why are you so upbeat? It’s not normal. Not this early in the morning. What time did you get up?”

“Eight o’clock. And it’s eleven o’clock now actually.” She settles down on the edge of the bed next to me. There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and I can tell she’s itching to tell me something. “I sent Steve a text, telling him what had happened between Mark and me. He texted back and said he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about me since we spoke and he really likes me.”

The reason for her buoyant mood becomes crystal clear.

I glance down at the mobile in her hand. “So, you’ve been texting Big Steve all morning.”

She flops backwards on the bed next to me and stares at the ceiling. “He said he held back telling me how he felt about me because I was with someone and getting married.”

“I suppose that’s a good sign. Big Steve’s not a marriage wrecker then,” I reply warily.

“He asked to see me tonight, but obviously, I said I can’t and told him we were here. Oh, Sophie, I haven’t felt like this in ages.” She beams. “I know what you’re going to say. It’s too fast, it’s too soon, but I’m not going to rush things. All I want is someone to want me like Art wants you.”

I’m not sure where it comes from, but at the mention of his name, the knot of emotion I’ve been carrying around inside me for the past twenty-four hours unravels, and I burst into tears.

“Sorry, Soph.” She slings a consoling arm around me. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” I stammer through hot, ugly tears that are streaming down my face and dripping from my chin.

“You’re crying because you’re in love and you’ve had a setback.”

I wipe my wet cheeks with my hand and verbalise the one thing that I’m most scared about, “I don’t know whether we can make it through this.”

“You need to talk it out with him.”

“What’s the use if he’s not honest with me and he only tells me what he wants me to know? There’s still so much I don’t know about him. He’s got a scar on his stomach from where he got stabbed, Luce. That’s not normal, is it? But I don’t know what happened because he won’t tell me. And there’s the club …”

“I thought you were okay about the club?”

“Not Dark Desires. Savage.”

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