15. Fifteen

Fifteen

A rt is ready and waiting for me in the car as I step out onto the pavement half an hour later. The windows are down, music plays softly, and he looks the epitome of cool, dressed in tan chinos and a pristine white shirt. He's got an elbow perched out of the window and black Ray-Bans sat on the end of his nose. He throws a quizzical look at my green sundress and flip-flops as I climb into the car.

"Lucy's gone for very informal bridesmaid dresses." He smirks.

"My dress is at the hotel," I explain. "We're having our hair and make-up done there." I pause. "I do wish you could come to the wedding."

"So do I, but we're quite a few staff down because of sickness and holidays. I'll dip in and out whenever I can." He starts the car and casts me a sideways glance. "Please put your seat belt on."

"Give me a chance." I fasten the strap around me and see him check that I've done it before he pulls into traffic.

Before I can ask about his obsession with seat belts, I'm interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing and pull it out of my handbag. Mum flashes in the display. I suddenly realise Mum has no idea that I'm living with Art, and I immediately feel guilty. Now might be the time to tell her.

"Hi, Mum. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, love. I was just calling to ask you to wish Lucy all the best today from me and Martin."

"Of course. We're just on our way to the hotel now."

"It'll be a wonderful day. The weather's going to be stunning."

Given Lucy's despondency a couple of days ago about getting married, I don't feel quite as optimistic.

"Mmhmmm. How are you both? Martin okay?"

"Yes, love. He's been a bit under the weather the last few days, but he's as right as rain now. He wouldn't go to the doctor – you know what men are like."

"Good. I'm glad he's better." It's now or never , I decide. I take a deep breath. "Listen, Mum, there's something I need to tell you about me and Art."

"You haven't split up, have you?"

I frown, although I'm not surprised, she's jumped to this conclusion. Mum's a worrier.

"No, nothing like that."

"Oh, that is good news because we really like him." Mum lowers her voice a touch. "And he's very handsome, Sophie."

I inwardly cringe and glance at Art, who is oblivious to the compliment.

"We've moved in together."

"Oh, lovely …" There's a pause, and I know what she's going to say before she says it. "It's not a bit too soon, is it?"

"I hope not. It felt like the right decision."

"And I really care about him," I say, catching the smile on Art's face.

"Okay, well, I'm glad that you're happy, love. Now, you will remember to give Lucy and Mark all our best, won't you?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Wonderful. I'll speak to you soon. Take care, love."

"Bye, Mum."

"So, that went okay by the sounds of it?" Art asks.

"She was happy, but she's going to be because I think you made quite the impression on her and Martin."

His smile broadens, clearly pleased that my parents love him.

I look down at the phone in my hand and realise I've received no texts from Lucy. Something doesn't feel right.

"I'm surprised Lucy's not phoning me by now to ask where the bloody hell I am."

"I take full responsibility for making you late. There was no way I was going to be able to leave you naked in my bed." He pauses and tilts his head, as if considering something. "Actually, correction … our bed."

A fuzzy feeling of contentment fills my stomach at what he's getting at. Ours. Mine and his. "Really?"

"Of course." He places a hand on top of mine and smiles. "What's mine is yours."

I can't help the stupid grin from spreading across my face.

The sun is shining, I'm about to witness my best friend get married, and I have him. What more could I want?

The bridal suite is in a wing of the hotel, overlooking the fabulously landscaped gardens. As soon as we arrive, I make a beeline for the stairs with Art hot on my heels. Lucy will be hopping mad by now. I can feel it. The fact that she hasn't contacted me isn't a good sign. She's so pissed off with me that she can't even bring herself to text.

Shit!

"I'll see you in a little while," I say as we reach the second-floor landing.

As I go to open the door, Art's hand closes around mine, and he pulls me to him, attacking my mouth with his. He embraces me tightly as he kisses me, and I let him.

I'm already late. A few more seconds won't hurt.

Finally, he pulls away as a cleaner appears through the door, giving us a knowing look. I feel my cheeks heat up at the knowledge that we've been caught out, kissing on the staircase like a pair of teenagers, but he doesn't even seem to register her.

He smiles. "Now, you can go."

His phone rings, and he drags it from his pocket, abruptly cancelling the call. There's that frown again. I want to ask him who's calling, but before I get a chance, he's already started up the stairs.

"I'll see you later," he calls over his shoulder.

I can hear Sarah's loud voice booming down the corridor before I even arrive at the bridal suite. The door to the room is ajar, and as I step inside, I see her lounging back on the bed and chugging back a glass of Bucks Fizz. She's already dressed with her hair curled, wearing a full face of make-up.

"Hi," I say sheepishly, unable to avoid the fact that I'm the last to arrive.

Lucy looks up from the cream rococo-style dressing table, where she sits as the stylist brandishes a set of curling tongs as she finishes off her hair. She gives me a small smile, and I'm pleased to see she looks relieved to see me rather than pissed off at my lateness.

"Here she is!" cries Sarah.

"Sophie!" Geraldine, Lucy and Sarah's mum, leaps up from the bed and rushes towards me, pulling me into a warm embrace.

I allow myself to be enveloped by the hug and the distinct smell of lily of the valley perfume.

"How nice to see you." She releases me and casts a disapproving look in the direction of her eldest daughter. "Sarah, will you please slow down? You need to be able to walk down the aisle in a straight line," she snaps, tugging at her peach bolero jacket.

"Nice to see you, Geraldine. I'm sorry I'm late. I got held up," I apologise.

Lucy raises her eyebrows at me through the dressing table mirror as the stylist fluffs her curls around her shoulders.

"Held up in bed, shagging that gorgeous boyfriend of yours," she complains.

"Lucy!" Geraldine cries in disgust. "Must you lower the tone? Today of all days."

It never ceases to amaze me how Lucy and Sarah have grown up into the gregarious, loud individuals they are, given they've such a prudish mum.

Sarah's eyes light up at the mention of a man. "Ooh, how long have you been seeing him then?"

I hesitate because I can't quite believe it myself. "Seven weeks."

The stylist steps back and admires her handiwork in the dressing table mirror, tilting Lucy's head left and then right. A crystal-encrusted tiara is perched on her head, and her golden hair has been styled into soft, romantic waves that fall across her shoulders.

An unexpected ball of emotion wedges in my throat as I look at my best friend, and I can barely speak. "You look beautiful, Luce."

"Don't," she warns, giving me a look that tells me she's in danger of welling up too.

"Sarah, will you please stop drinking?" Geraldine's sharp tone cuts through our moment.

Lucy holds her cream silk dressing gown more tightly around her and gets out of the chair, giving me a decisive nod. "You're next."