10. Ten

Ten

A n hour later, I'm freshly showered and sitting cross-legged on the bed in Lucy's guest bedroom, wearing a pair of her old faded blue denim cut-offs and a white t-shirt.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to stay here tonight?" I ask. I can't help but feel a bit awkward dropping in on her and Mark like this, especially with the wedding coming up, but I've nowhere else to go. Other than back to mine or Mum's and both of those are out of the question.

"Of course." She flashes me a reassuring smile, hands me a glass of rosé, and settles down on the edge of the bed.

"I said I wasn't going to drink again after last night," I admit, but take the glass from her anyway.

"Yeah, but by the sounds of your evening you need it. "

On cue, my mobile begins vibrating on the bed. It's him. Again. Calling for the tenth time in an hour.

Lucy casts a knowing look at the phone. "Are you sure you're not going to answer it? I don't think he's going to disappear, Soph."

"I don't want to speak to him. I don't want to see him either." I take a fortifying sip of wine.

"That's why I've come here because he'll go straight to mine and I can't think straight when he's around me." It's as if he casts a spell on me whenever I'm with him, forcing all sensible thoughts out of my brain, leaving room only for him.

Lucy shifts onto the bed and sits cross-legged facing me with a puzzled look on her face. "So, which bit EXACTLY are you most fucked off about?"

I can tell by her questioning tone that she thinks I'm being a tad unreasonable. "I know I told him to answer the door even though we were in the middle of… things, but she wasn't going away. I didn't expect him to invite her into the bloody apartment and leave me waiting in the bedroom. And Tara…" I take a long drink of wine as I pinpoint exactly what I dislike about her the most. "The way she is with him makes me think there's more to it than he's told me. He says she works at one of his gyms, but I'm not sure."

"You think they've got history?"

The thought has gnawed away at me from the first time I clapped eyes on her. "Yes. Let's face it, he's not bothered about getting involved with his staff."

"Maybe they do have history, but it doesn't mean there's anything going on between them now," Lucy reasons, pulling at her cerise pink pyjama top.

"Maybe. All I know is I'm not getting hurt again."

My mobile starts to vibrate again, and I swiftly end the call.

Lucy runs a hand through her waves and fixes me a look. "He's got the hots for you bad, and he's clearly worried about you."

"Worried he's not getting a shag tonight," I shoot back .

"Ask yourself this, if he just wants to get inside your knickers, why would he be trying to contact you? If it's just sex he's after, then I'm pretty sure he's not short of offers." The sound of the front door slamming closed echoes up the stairs.

I frown and cast a glance at my watch. "Mark's home late from work."

Lucy rolls her eyes. "He barely spends any time here anymore. He's always at the office or the pub." She knocks back a large swig of wine.

She and Mark have always bickered like an old married couple, even when they first started dating, but there's a bitterness to her tone that I haven't heard before. I immediately feel guilty for having burdened her with my problems this evening when there's clearly trouble in paradise.

"Is everything okay? What did you want to talk to me about this afternoon?"

She glances at the closed bedroom door and shakes her head dismissively. "Nothing. It was nothing."

"You're getting married soon, you're bound to get a bit tetchy with one another. There's a lot of pressure."

"I know, I know. Everything's fine," she says hurriedly, sipping her wine. I don't believe her, but she clearly doesn't want to be pushed on the matter any further.

"So, what are you going to do tomorrow?" she asks, changing the subject.

"About what?"

"You've got to see him again, what are you going to say?"

I haven't thought that far ahead. "I have no idea," I admit glumly. I feared he'd be too good to be true, and I was right.

Lucy gives my hand a reassuring pat. "Don't be too hard on him. Sleep on it." She gets to her feet. "Oh, and don't fret about that Tara woman either. I saw her leaving the hotel this afternoon and you're far prettier. The guy she was with was a bit of a beefcake though." She smirks. "See you in the morning."

"Night mate, and thanks for tonight."

"No worries, I'm sure I probably owe you one from over the years."

Lucy slips out of the bedroom and I place the glass of wine on the bedside table and lie down. I pick up my mobile. Fifteen calls and five text messages from Art. I open the messages and skim them; they're all of a similar flavour, asking where I am, if I'm okay, begging me to speak to him.

I type a reply:

I'm safe. I just need some time by myself to think

I send the text, switch off my phone, and settle down to sleep, alone in bed. Not exactly the way I anticipated the night would end.

I pad down the stairs at six thirty the next morning to the sound of raised voices coming from the kitchen. As I reach the hallway, the arguing stops as Lucy and Mark notice my presence, pausing mid-argument. Both have got faces like thunder. I hover uneasily at the foot of the stairs not quite knowing what to do.

Mark throws Lucy an irritated look then strides into the hall. "Morning, Sophie. Lucy said you were upset last night; hope you're feeling better." He stops to inspect his reflection in the hall mirror and straightens his navy tie.

"Morning," I reply as Lucy slowly follows him into the hall, dressed in a pale pink fluffy dressing gown. Her eyes and the tip of her nose are red from crying.

She gives me a watery smile. "Did you sleep well?"

There's a definite tension in the air as Mark steps away from the mirror and stoops down to pick up his shiny brown leather briefcase.

"Um, yes I did," I reply awkwardly, glancing at my reflection in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs. My hair is sticking up this way and that from being slept on damp and, with no make-up on, I look pale. "I think yesterdays events wore me out."

Mark ruffles a hand through his mop of sandy blonde hair. "Do you want a lift? I could drop you halfway home?"

He's worked in the city for years and I still have no real idea of what it is he actually does .

"No thanks, there's no need. I'll call an Uber." I pull my phone out of my pocket and switch it back on, bracing myself for an onslaught of further texts and missed calls from the previous evening, but none arrive. I stare at the screen and try to work out how I feel about the fact Art's clearly given up.

"You need to go and sort out your man trouble." Lucy forces a smile.

I shove the phone back into my pocket. "I don't think I can be arsed."

"Hmmm, I know the feeling," she says, casting daggers in Mark's direction.

He doesn't respond and with one last look in the mirror, opens the front door. "Are you sure you don't want a lift?

"No, it's fine, really."

He frowns and looks distracted as he peers down the front path. "This man of yours… what does he look like?"

"Tall, dark, handsome."

"VERY handsome," Lucy interjects.

"What car does he drive?"

I frown at the sudden questioning. "A grey Aston Martin, why?"

He nods at something through the front door and steps back slightly allowing me to look. "I don't think you'll need the Uber."

Parked up on the opposite side of the road is an instantly recognisable grey car. The man himself leans against the driver's door. Dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, his arms are folded, and he's scowling in our direction.

My heart does a backflip and I can't work out whether I'm pleased to see him or not. He's come for me. "How the bloody hell does he know where I am?"

"Oh my god, he's tracked you down," Lucy squawks, immediately brightening up. "Mind you, he looks pissed off."

Part of me wants to close the door on him but the look in his eyes tells me he's in no mood for games. I don't want to cause trouble at Lucy and Mark's, especially when they're obviously going through a rough patch.

"I'd better go," I say. "He won't leave until I do. "

Lucy is practically buzzing with excitement as I walk down the front path with Mark. Mark throws Art an uncertain look as he beeps open his BMW and opens the door. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes, I'll be fine." I force a reassuring smile, even though I'm not sure that I will.

I reach up on tip toes and peck him on the cheek. "Thanks for letting me stay last night. I'll see you at the wedding."

"Yes. Of course," Mark says, without the slightest enthusiasm.

There's definitely something going on between him and Lucy and it's not good.

As Mark climbs into the car, I draw in a deep breath and cross the road.

Art's staring down at the ground and lifts his head when I approach. "Please, get in the car." His tone is firm and warning me not to challenge him.

My hackles rise at the demand. "Maybe I don't want to."

I fold my arms. He can't have everything his way.

Anger flashes in his eyes. "Don't push me. Please get in the car."

His voice hardens. I haven't seen this pissed-off side to him before and it's bringing out my defiant streak.

"You can't order me around."

His jaw twitches with tension. "I want you to get out of the middle of the road, so you don't get run over. Please get in the car, so we can talk."

He's got a point about standing in the middle of the road. It's fairly busy. I glance up and down the street as if deciding what to do, then slowly make my way round to the passenger side. Lucy is hovering on the doorstep, watching the scene unfold and I give her a reassuring wave as I climb into the car.

He gets in and slams the door as Mark reverses off the drive and pulls away down the road. "Why did you kiss him?" he asks, watching him drive away.

The question throws me. I can't help myself. "That's what you do with your girlfriend isn't?"

"Don't," he warns.

"Don't what? What's your fucking problem?" I snap.

"I don't like seeing you with other guys. "

I frown at the sheer ridiculousness of his statement. "Mark is Lucy's fiancé. They're getting married very soon. Are you seriously going to sit here and lecture me on "other guys"?"

The scowl returns to his face as the car engine roars into life, and we pull away.

"Where are we going?"

"We're going home. And we're going to talk."