14. Fourteen

Fourteen

T he hours roll by. The sun disappears into the burnished evening sky, and the guests begin to leave. Art and I haven't had an opportunity to speak since earlier. He's been trying to make his way over to me ever since, but he's been stopped by guests and dragged into conversations. Aisling and her mum have disappeared, and I thank the Lord she's finally gone.

"All right, Soph, Steve and I are heading off."

Lucy's at my side, holding a half-empty glass of champagne.

I frown. The evening's passed by in a blur, thanks to my preoccupied brain. "Oh, okay. What time is it?"

"Just gone nine." She drains her glass and looks at me. "Are you all right? You've got a face like a slapped arse."

"Sorry, I know I've been a bit distracted tonight. "

Lucy twists her lips in thought and narrows her eyes slightly, as if working something out. "You're not still brooding about the whole wedding-venue thing, are you? If you are, just have it out with Art tonight."

I wish.

I shake my head. "No, it's not that. It doesn't matter; it's nothing."

"Don't forget I've known you forever, Sophie," she warns. "Something's up. If you're not pissed off about the wedding …" Her eyes search my face, as if looking for a clue. "It's not because of the redhead Art was talking to earlier on, was it?"

I stare down at my glass. Even though I don't reply, my face must say it all because Lucy breaks out into a smile, looking very pleased with herself.

"Aha! See. I knew it."

"What do you think?" I ask warily.

"About what? Art talking to another woman?" She laughs. "It is allowed, you know."

I run a hand through my hair and look out across the lawn, hating what I'm about to ask. "Do you think they seemed … flirty?"

She frowns. "Not particularly. Art's a good-looking man. He's bound to have women flirt with him."

"I know that. But it's not that simple."

"Why not?"

I drain my glass to give me the fuel I need to get me through the next bit. "That woman … she was the one who introduced him to … kinky stuff. She was his partner at Savage."

Lucy's eyes widen.

I carry on, "Not only that, but she was also his therapist when he came out of prison. That's how the whole thing started. She was married. She wanted a relationship with him, but he didn't."

"Fucking hell. Why's she turned up tonight then?"

"Her mum's a friend of Barbara's. It seems she decided to tag along. Barbara doesn't know what happened between them, and Art doesn't want her to find out. "

Lucy cringes at the thought. "Yeah, well, that would be pretty bloody awkward, wouldn't it? Shit. And she was his therapist. Isn't that totally wrong, getting involved with a client?"

"That's what I said, but he sees it as she helped him through a difficult patch in his life."

Lucy turns to face me and gives me a serious look. "Please don't tell me you think he's messing about with her. He adores you."

It's not him I'm worried about.

I knock back the last of my champagne. "I don't trust her. She's suddenly reappeared in his life, needing his help. And why would the fact that he's engaged stop her from trying it on with him? It's clear she doesn't like me. If she hasn't got any interest in him, why would she be giving me nasty looks? And you should have seen her earlier. Batting her eyelashes, acting all coy … flirting …"

"So what if she wants him? He won't do anything about it. He loves you. Didn't you hear his little speech earlier? He nearly had me going. What does he say about all of this?"

"He says I've nothing to worry about. That they're just friends. He thinks I'm overreacting."

Lucy sighs. "I get why you're pissed off about her showing up tonight, but that aside, she's his past. He wants you. You're getting married. It doesn't matter if she's still got a thing for him. He's only got eyes for you."

I trust Art. I know he's not a cheat like Theo, but that alone isn't enough to make me feel any better about Aisling.

"I know; you're right. I just can't help it. She brings out the worst in me."

Lucy gives my arm a reassuring rub. "You need to put it into perspective. It's done. It's over with. He's with you. Now, come on. Steve's going to be wondering where I am. I left him by the car. I said I'd only be a minute."

Mum and Martin are talking to Big Steve at the front of the house as Lucy and I join them .

Big Steve grins as he sees Lucy and opens the passenger door of his car. "Here she is! I was worried you'd got lost."

"He can't be apart from me for a moment." Lucy rolls her eyes in mock protest, but I know she's loving it.

"Martin and I are going to get off too, love," Mum says. "But we've had a fabulous evening."

"Yes, Barbara's such a lovely lady." Martin jangles his car keys in his hand and laughs. "But it's past our bedtime."

I'm pleased our parents get on. At least that's one hurdle overcome.

"Thank you all for coming."

"You need to let me know what colour you decide on for the wedding as soon as you've chosen it, so I can start looking for my outfit," Mum warns, pointing a finger at me.

I smile. "You'll be the first to know, Mum."

Lucy puts her bag in the car. "Oh yeah … and I'm presuming I'm your maid of honour?"

"Of course."

"Good. I don't want a dodgy dress, mind," she teases.

I laugh. "Now, would I do that to you?"

"Do what to her?" Art asks from beside me.

I fold my arms. I didn't hear him arrive. Even if I am acting a bit crazy jealous over Aisling, I'm still annoyed with him about the whole wedding-venue debacle.

"Choose a horrid bloody bridesmaid dress for me," Lucy says when I don't reply.

He pushes a hand through his hair and laughs softly. "Oh, right. That's Sophie's area, I'm afraid."

We say our good-byes and watch them drive off. Art and I need to talk, but I'm not sure what to say or where to start, so I say nothing, and I turn to walk back around the side of the house. But Art catches my hand and pulls me to him. He slides his arms around my waist, and he holds me tightly against his chest, keeping me there.

Serious eyes search my face. "Are you okay? "

"I'm fine," I lie.

A faint crease appears on his brow. "You seem pissed off. I'm sorry I haven't spent much time with you tonight. I couldn't get away from people."

"I know; it's fine."

He glides his hands up my arms and rests them on top of my shoulders. "But you're not."

I force a smile. I'm not about to have it out with him here. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

He cups my face in his hands, and I can tell by the look in his eye he's not buying it. "This is about Ash, isn't it?"

"Amongst other things."

He shakes his head, his gaze softening. "Sophie …"

His phone rings, and he pulls it from the back pocket of his jeans with a frown. "I need to take this; it's the hotel." He looks at me. "When I'm done, we're going home, and we're going to talk. I don't like you feeling this way. Okay?"

I smile weakly. "Okay."

I leave him to take the call and head back. All the guests have left, and the place is empty, except for a couple of waiters collecting up the empty glasses and plates.

I pick up the last glass of champagne from the table, and I find myself heading across the stepping stones, away from the house to the secret garden. Art's haven.

Silver slivers of moonlight streak through the trees and across the green bench. Even in the darkness, it looks enchanting.

Art comes here when he's got a problem, and he always leaves with the answer. Maybe I should give it a go.

"I'm glad we've an opportunity to talk in private."

The unfamiliar female voice snaps me back to reality. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and see red hair.

I'm immediately tense. What the hell is she still doing here? "I'd thought you'd gone home."

I take a long drink and keep my gaze fixed ahead on the bench. I don't want to look at her. I don't want to be anywhere near her. Nothing good can come of this .

I'm debating whether to leave when she says, "I'd very much like it if we could be civil. After all, we do have something in common."

A sardonic laugh falls from my lips. "I doubt that."

"Yes, we do," she sighs irritably. "Art."

My eyes snap to her at the mention of his name.

Aisling's watching me intently, studying my reaction. "We both care about him. We should be civil, for his sake."

I'm not sure I want her to elaborate, but I need to hear this. "You care about him?"

Her nude-glossed lips twist into a fond smile. "Of course I do. He'll always be special to me. When we first met, he was troubled and angry. But I helped him."

"Yes, he's told me all about how you helped him," I snap, unable to help myself.

A sly smile inches across her lips. "He's told you then? That we were lovers?"

Lovers. Jealousy twists in my gut like a knife as the word bounces around my head, making it ache .

"It's okay to admit you don't like me, Sophie …"

I look her straight in the eye. "I don't like you."

"And that's fine because I don't like you."

Finally, we're getting to the truth.

"I intimidate you."

I give a short, sharp laugh of disbelief. "You don't intimidate me."

She smirks. "Yes, I think I do. You see, I'm the reason why you're here right now, living your best life, being with him. Without me, there would be no you and Art. There would be no Art. He was lost and broken when we first met. I showed him the way. I showed him how to regain the control he'd lost over his life."

She thinks I owe her? That I should somehow be grateful?

I'm not listening to any more of her self-righteous crap.

My hand balls into a fist. "You really think you're something special, don't you?"

She narrows her eyes. "I helped him."

"Is that what you tell yourself? Because from where I'm standing, all I see is a professional who abused her position and took advantage of a vulnerable client." I fix her a steely glare. "That's the reason I don't like you."

Her eyes burn with anger. I've hit a nerve. "Do you want to know the reason I don't like you?"

I shake my head. "I couldn't give a fuck."

"Because I don't think you're right for him. He's so good at what he does. Control, domination. Have you seen him in action? I mean, truly in action?" She folds her arms and casts a withering look in my direction. "No, I doubt it very much. He wouldn't want to scare Miss Vanilla away. He's perfection. And he's giving all that up—for you."

I shake my head. "He isn't giving anything up. He hasn't been to that club for years."

She tilts her head and gives me a thoughtful look. "I'm not talking about Savage. The club was just a place to go for sexual gratification … to be free."

"Free to commit adultery and sleep with clients. You could be struck off."

Aisling swings her hair over her shoulder, her eyes hardening. "You know nothing about my marriage. I know a lot more about your relationship."

I frown. "You know nothing about—"

"Control is the centre of Art's world," she cuts me off. "He needs it, thrives on it because without it, he feels lost." She gives me a thin smile. "Am I close?"

I roll my eyes. "He was in therapy with you for a year. I'd expect you to know him a little bit. Otherwise, you'd be extremely shit at your job."

"Oh, I know him much more than a little bit. And then at Savage … well, we let our bodies do the talking."

I hate this. I chug back a mouthful of champagne to stem the horrid feeling of nausea. "That was four years ago. He's changed … "

She laughs, as if what I said were totally absurd. "A leopard never changes his spots, Sophie. I know Art. I know he's not truly happy unless he's in absolute control of everything in his world. When we were together, he was truly happy. Because I submitted to him without question, let him do whatever he pleased with me. My body was his. He owned me. And he loved it. He became alive." She tilts her head slightly and thoughtfully slides her narrow gaze up my body. "Have you given yourself to him? I mean, fully? Do you really make him happy? Or have you made him change for you? Clipped his wings and made him conform?"

"I'm not discussing our relationship with you," I snap.

"You don't need to. I can see it in your eyes." She idly runs her fingers through her hair and gazes around the garden. "It's not healthy for people to pretend to be something they're not. Eventually, the pretence eats you away. The fa?ade slips. Like I said, Sophie, a leopard never changes his spots."

I'm on the back foot, doubt creeping in. The idea that she's seen a side of him that I haven't, that he's kept hidden from me, upsets me more than the idea of them sleeping together. Art told me the stuff he was into wasn't that kinky. But has he held back with me? I hate the fact that she might be right. But I'll never admit it to her.

I fix her a steely glare. "Or do you not like me because you want what I've got with him? You wanted to be with him; you wanted a relationship. But all you had was sex."

"It was more than that," she snaps, stepping towards me, clearly rattled.

It seems Aisling likes to dish stuff out but isn't so good at taking it.

Before she has a chance to carry on, Art appears through the conifers. His gaze darts from me to Aisling and back again. "What's going on?"

Aisling's serene smile springs back into place as she walks up to him. "Sophie and I were just having a chat."

He looks at me for reassurance. I look away, draining my glass.

"Thanks for agreeing to come with me. I'll be in touch."

"It's fine," he says.

What the fuck are they talking about?

She stands on her tiptoes, plants a kiss on his cheek, and then looks back over her shoulder at me, narrowing her eyes. I know she's doing this to wind me up. And it's working. I purposefully look out into the garden and listen to the sound of her heels retreating across the paving stones. She's gone. But it's not over. I'm wound tight like a spring. Feeling like I'm about to snap.

"Are you okay?"

"What was she talking about? Where are you going with her?"

A faint crease appears on his brow. "She's buying a new car, and she doesn't have the faintest idea about them."

"Why is that your problem?"

"She asked me to go with her to help her decide. That's what we were talking about earlier."

"Why you?"

He shrugs. "I dunno. I'm a guy, and I know a bit about cars, I suppose."

"Can't she ask any of the other guys she's had affairs with?"

Art jams his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The line on his forehead deepening. His patience is wearing out. So is mine.

"We're friends, Sophie. Nothing more."

"For you maybe."

He shakes his head. "Not this again."

"Yes, this again," I bite back.

He frowns. "We're going home. We need to talk."

"You're damn fucking right we do."

"Here you are." Barbara appears through the conifers. "I've been looking for you both everywhere. Is everything okay?"

Art drags his concerned gaze from me and smiles at his mum. "Yes, fine. Thanks for this evening. It's been wonderful. We're going to get off. We need to get back home."