17. Seventeen

Seventeen

I stand on the periphery of the Orangery and scan the christening party that's in full flow. Pretty pink and white balloons decorate the rectangular tables where the party of twenty are sitting. Waiting staff weave back and forth, serving food and drinks. The hum of conversation and laughter tell me everyone's having a good time. I'm not needed. Exactly as it should be.

The bar and reception are typically quiet for midweek. Lucy's at the desk, frowning at something or other on the laptop screen. This is the first time I've seen her all day, but I don't need to ask to know that something's up.

"Hi, Luce. Did you have a good morning off?"

"Apart from the fact that my parents aren't talking to me, it was hunky-dory, thanks."

"What? Why? "

She slumps back in the chair, deflated. "Mum knew it was my morning off, so she decided to pop round unexpectedly because she wanted to treat me to breakfast, which was really nice of her. What wasn't so nice was that Steve had stayed over at mine last night, and we were"—she shoots me a look, and her cheeks turn pink— "in the middle of things."

I pull a face. "Shit. How did that go?"

She buries her face in her hands. "Fucking awful. At first, I tried to say he was a friend, but she knew I was lying. Things got a bit aerated, and she stormed out. I felt like a teenager getting caught out, shagging my boyfriend."

"What did Big Steve say?"

She picks up the Biro and absentmindedly twiddles it between her fingers. "He was great. He arranged to go into work late because he didn't want to leave me. I got upset."

"That was nice of him," I say. "He obviously really cares about you."

Lucy gives me a weak smile and avoids my gaze. "I know, and I care about him."

She does more than care about him. I've never known her like this before over a guy.

"I've been trying Mum and Dad all morning, but they won't answer my calls, so I phoned Sarah."

"And what did she say?"

"She couldn't give a fuck what I do. She was more interested in getting the goss on Steve than the fact that our parents aren't speaking to me. She said they're just a bit shocked because it's all happened so quick."

I put my arm around her and give her a hug. "I suppose, if you look at it from their point of view, it wasn't that long ago when your dad walked you down the aisle. Then, right after that, you told them you and Mark were divorcing. They'll come round, Luce. It might just take them a bit of time to get used to the idea."

She sighs heavily. "I know you're right. I just wish they hadn't found out about me and Steve like that. I really want them to like him because I really like him."

"I know you do. Stop stressing. It will all work out. "

Lucy doesn't look convinced and turns her attention back to the laptop. "Anyway, I've just noticed this." She nods towards the calendar onscreen. "Did you change your mind then?"

"Change my mind about what?"

"The whole wedding-venue thing?"

I still haven't a clue what she's referring to. "What do you mean?"

She gives me a look as if I'm mad and points at the screen. "This! George asked me to check we've got deliveries booked in for kitchen and laundry supplies up until the end of the year. So, I did and saw this."

"Saw what?" I shift round the desk and peer at the screen. On the monthly calendar for December, an all-day booking for the Black-Ward Wedding is entered on the twenty-third. I reread the booking to make sure I'm seeing it right. "I haven't booked this," I mutter in astonishment. Anger rises inside me as I glare up the staircase. "I don't fucking believe it."

Lucy follows my gaze and winces. "So, you didn't agree to it?"

I cannot believe Art's done this. This is overstepping the line, even by his standards .

"I didn't have a clue," I snap. "So, not only has he tried to dictate where we get married, but he's also trying to decide the date as well."

Lucy spins round in her chair to face me, looking perplexed. "So, you didn't have it out with him last night about all that?"

I avoid her gaze and glance at the floor. "No."

She gives me a funny look. "Why not?"

Because Aisling happened. Then, there was the sex. There was no room for anything else in my mind after that.

"I didn't have a chance to speak to him about it."

I'm furious with myself for not bringing it up and at him for doing this in the first place. "But I'm going to have it out with him now. Right this very bloody minute."

I start to head in the direction of the stairs, swearing under my breath.

"He's not in," Lucy says, stopping me in my tracks.

I frown and spin round. Now, I'm annoyed that he's not here when I want to give him a dressing-down. "What do you mean, he's not in?"

"I mean, he's not in. Kelly covered reception this morning, left a note to say if we got any calls for Art, he's out, and he'll be gone a few hours."

"Where's he gone?"

Lucy glances at the note on the desk and shrugs. "Dunno. It doesn't say. You're his fiancée. Shouldn't you know?"

I look through the front doors and out at the gravel driveway beyond, racking my brains. The realisation of where he is creeps up on me slowly. A churning feeling starts in my stomach, the way it always does when I think about him and her. For a second, I don't know why I feel so unsettled, and then I remember.

"I do know where he is. He's with Aisling."

Lucy gives me an uncertain look. "Oh, right … why?"

I fold my arms as the uneasiness I felt yesterday floods back. "She asked him to go with her to look at a new car because she doesn't know anything about them, and she's got no one else to ask, apparently."

"Right," Lucy says slowly. "And by the look on your face, you're thinking they're having mad, passionate sex instead?" She chucks the Biro down on the desk. "I don't think so."

Neither do I. Do I?

"He says they're just friends."

"You trust him, right?"

"Yes."

"Quit worrying then. You do need to speak to him about this whole wedding thing though." She gives me a sad smile. "I wish some guy were so in love with me that he couldn't wait to make me his. I find it all quite romantic."

I roll my eyes. "I find it annoying. He's taking over, like he tries to do with bloody everything."

We're interrupted by George hurrying into reception from his office, clutching a white envelope. "Hello, ladies. Is Art free at the moment, Lucy? "

She arches her eyebrow. "Everybody wants a piece of the boss today, don't they?"

That's what I'm worried about, I think cynically.

"I'm afraid he's not in, George; he'll be back in a couple of hours."

He pulls a navy handkerchief out of the front pocket of his grey checked blazer and dabs his forehead. "Oh, righto. Can you tell him I need to speak to him when he gets back?" He pushes the handkerchief back into the pocket and waves the envelope in his hand. "It's rather important."

We watch him hurry back to his office.

"Something's got his knickers in a twist," Lucy says. "He looks even more wound up than usual."

I'm not really listening. I'm still seething from the discovery that my fiancé has booked our wedding date without even consulting me, and the green-eyed monster, which I thought had gone back into hiding, is rearing its ugly head again.

"Let me know as soon as Art gets back," I mutter distractedly. "Because when he does, I'm going to have it out with him once and for all."