Page 102 of The Painter and His Poet

Sterling steps closer, resting his palm on the base of my spine. It’s a possessive move, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Carl. He hitches a brow, and I don’t like the assessing look in his gaze.

“Dalton informed me that you sang at Benedict’s bar not too long ago. Quite the entertainer are we?”

“I was just standing in for the band that usually plays. It’s not something I intend on doing again.”

“Why, you were incredible!” Sterling interrupts, slamming his mouth shut when he realises his mistake.

Carl cocks a brow. “I’m surprised you even enjoyed it given your–”

Given his what?

“Carl, thank you so much for the invitation,” a familiar voice says, cutting Carl off as he turns to greet Councillor John Hoxton and his wife Elodie, who looks as uneasy as I feel.

I frown, partly from wondering what Carl was about to say, but mostly from how Councillor Hoxton’s gaze hones in on me, his eyes flickering with recognition. I force a smile in return but am more than a little grateful when we use the distraction to escape.

“I can’t believe Carl invited that prick,” Sterling mutters under his breath as we step through the heavy wooden doors of the church, the scent of fresh flowers mingling with the soft strains of music filling the air.

“You don’t like him, I take it?”

“No,” Sterling retorts, his hand falling away as we follow the other guests inside the church.

“Me neither,” I admit

Sterling’s feet still as he snaps his head to the side to look at me. “Why?”

“He just made me feel a little uncomfortable when I was introduced to him at mom’s wedding.”

“Uncomfortable how?” Sterling asks, as we head towards a pew at the back of the church, neither one of us wants to sit anywhere near our parents who are already seated towards the front.

“Nothing he said in particular. There was just something about him I didn’t like.”

Sterling scowls as we take a seat. “That man has a reputation.”

“Reputation?”

“For stealing things that don’t belong to him,” he replies rather cryptically, eyeing the subject of our conversation as John passes us by with his wife, Elodie. I can’t help but notice how tightly his fingers are wrapped around her elbow, or the wince of pain on her face that she tries to hide with a smile when she notices me staring.

“Are you talking about Elodie? Has this got something to do with Ben?”

“In part, yes,” Sterling explains, his voice lowering as more guests fill up the rows in front of us. “Ben was dating Elodie for years. We were all convinced they were going to marry, and then all of a sudden she left him for that prick.”

“Why on earth would she do that?”

“I don’t know. Ben has never gotten over it. He’s planning on making a move though,” Sterling reveals, wincing a little when he realises he may have said too much.

“A move how?”

“Now’s probably not the time to talk about that,” Sterling replies, flicking his gaze to a couple who’ve settled at the other end of the pew that we’re sitting on. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

“Sure,” I agree. “So, what was Carl about to say before he was interrupted earlier?” I ask instead.

“Remind me what he said,” Sterling murmurs, side-eyeing me.

“He seemed surprised that you enjoy listening to me sing. I don’t know, it was as though he was going to say more…” My voice trails off as Sterling shifts in his seat.

“Carl is my dad’s best friend. They talk. I made a mistake in complimenting you, so he was probably referring to that. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Yes, of course. That makes sense, I suppose,” I reply evenly, and if it wasn’t for the tense way Sterling is holding himself, I might’ve believed him.

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