11. Eleven

Eleven

T he next few days pass by in a blur of baby showers, christenings, a fiftieth wedding anniversary, finalising arrangements for Lucy's wedding, and moving my belongings into Art's. I'm relieved when Thursday rolls round as it's nearly the weekend.

As I head down the corridor from my office and into reception, I notice an uncharacteristically glum-looking Lucy, staring into space from behind the desk. She's getting married in two days; I would have expected her to be hopping with excitement by now.

"So, are you all set for Saturday?" I say, giving her a playful nudge with my elbow.

She blinks up at me in surprise, looking genuinely confused by the question. "What?"

"Your wedding," I remind her. "You know, the happiest day of your life."

"Yeah, great. Everything's fine."

It's weird that this is the first wedding I've organised and participated in as a guest. I've had to hand control over for Saturday's proceedings because I won't be able to oversee the day and take part in it. I prattle on to Lucy about the arrangements I've made and various other wedding-related details, but I soon notice she's not paying attention.

Judging from her bored expression, she couldn't care less.

Something's wrong.

"You don't look like a bride who's less than forty-eight hours away from her wedding."

"Mmhmm." She scrunches up her nose and twirls a strand of hair around her finger. "I don't feel like one either."

I know she and Mark have been going through a bit of a rocky patch, but it's not unusual for tensions to run high in the weeks leading up to a wedding.

"Are you okay?"

She sighs and offers me a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm just tired. I've got the day off tomorrow, and I planned on having a bit of me time, but Mum and Sarah have insisted that I go out to lunch with them." She pulls a face at the thought. "I'm really not in the mood, to be honest. I'm not in the mood for anything at the moment."

"I'm not surprised. Like you said, you're tired. You've a lot going on."

"Yeah, that's what it is." The forced smile is still on her face. "Thanks for helping sort everything out for Saturday. That's part of the reason I wanted to get married here. I wouldn't trust anyone else to organise it."

"It's been my pleasure. I want it to be special for you. How's Mark feeling?"

Her forced smile dissolves at my mention of her husband-to-be. "I've no idea."

Before I can probe further, she shoves a piece of paper into my hand. "Could you do me a favour and ask Art to sign this invoice for me, please? I'm feeling lazy, and I know you want any excuse to see him."

I take it from her. She's right; any excuse to see him will do.

Lucy nods towards the bar. "Last time I saw him, he was headed for the Orangery."

"Okay. I'll catch up with you later," I reply.

There's something wrong. There has been for weeks. I've been a bad friend, too interested in my own life to pay attention to my best friend. I'll have to make time to speak to her later.

My heels click across the slate floor as I walk into the Orangery. Art, George, and Olly sit at a table in deep discussion. All three look up at my intrusion.

My cheeks colour at my faux pas. They're in a meeting, and I've disturbed them.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Art flashes me a reassuring smile. "It's okay; we were just finishing up. In fact, I was discussing the launch of the new cocktail evenings we're going to pilot."

"Which was your idea," George interjects, looking very pleased with himself that he remembered that detail.

"So it was," I reply, walking up to them.

I glance at Art, who's not looking at me. He didn't tell me about his plans to launch them.

"They start next week," Art adds. "Olly, Sophie spoke highly of your talents as a mixologist, which swayed me to take a gamble on them."

Olly looks shocked at the fact that I paid him a compliment, and he throws a rueful look in my direction. He still hasn't spoken to me since he found out about Art and me.

Do I detect a thaw in his attitude?

"Oh … right, thanks," he says.

"We'll catch up again before next weekend," Art says, giving George and Olly their cue to leave.

The two men get up. Olly jams his hands into the pockets of his black trousers and gives me a small smile before turning and heading back to the bar. George hesitates, hovering by his chair, his eyes darting from Art to me, as if he's not quite finished.

"Erm … I was just wondering – and you can tell me to mind my own business"—his cheeks turn pink—"if the rumours are to be believed. That you … well, that you two are … together."

Other than Olly's silent treatment, I've received the odd funny look and heard a few whispers behind my back, but no one's actually asked me outright whether the rumours are true. My eyes swing to Art. I have no idea how he's going to react to a question about his private life, especially coming from George.

"The rumours are true," Art says curtly. "But"—he sits back in his chair and relaxes slightly as he looks at me—"it won't affect the running of the hotel. Nothing has changed."

A strange warmth flickers inside me. I know it's only George, but the fact that Art's set the record straight and publicly outed our relationship must mean he's serious about me. Mustn't it?

To my surprise, George breaks into a smile. "Very good. No, no … I'm not worried it will impact the hotel." He nods. "It's nice to hear of a young couple …." He trails off, and with a dip of his head, he scurries off in the direction of reception.

Art watches him leave. "Sometimes, that guy totally confuses me."

"I know. That was almost as weird as you being nice to him and Olly," I tease.

He smiles. "I thought it might be a good idea to give George a project to focus his attention on, and I decided to give Olly a chance." He catches my bemused look and lifts a shoulder. "I'm trying to be nicer."

"You're also trying out my wonderful idea of the cocktail evenings."

"It's got to be worth a shot."

I place my hands on my hips. I want credit where credit's due. "Admit it. It was a good idea."

A smile plays on his lips as his gaze sweeps over me. "It was a good idea."

"You've changed your mind about giving my idea a try, and you're being nice to George and Olly. Where's the Art I know, and what have you done to him?" I laugh.

He gives me an easy smile. "You mean, what have you done to him?"

Before I can blink, he puts his arm round my waist and pulls me onto his lap.

I anxiously glance around to see if there any other staff nearby. If any of them sees us like this, it will just add fuel to the fire.

"We shouldn't do this here. It's unprofessional."

"It's quiet. There's no one about." His eyes search my face, and he shakes his head. "And if there were, I wouldn't care."

"Art …"

"I've missed you," he whispers, and I feel my heart squeeze in my chest.

"I saw you this morning. We live together."

"But I haven't seen you all day because I've been stupid busy, sorting this place out." He kisses me. "And for that reason, we're going to leave work a little earlier, and I'm taking you shopping."

There's an offer I can't refuse. "What are you buying me?"

"A dress. It's the charity reception at Mum's on Sunday. We can't go tomorrow because we're meeting Mum for lunch and it's the wedding of the year on Saturday."

I kiss him. "Where are you taking me shopping?"

"Bond Street, of course."

I stare at him. "Isn't that going to be really expensive?"

"Money's no object." He smooths a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Especially when someone priceless will be wearing it."