25. Twenty-Five

Twenty-Five

F or a moment, when I wake, I'm lying in Art's arms in bed, and nothing bad has happened. Then, the thumping in my temples snatches the blissful utopia away. He's not here. I'm alone. Feeling like shit.

The room is far too white and bright, and I close my eyes tightly as memories from the previous night flood back. Wine. Cosmopolitans. Dancing. More wine.

I groan and peel my eyes open. I look down to find I'm still wearing my black dress from last night, and my skin itches from the make-up that I neglected to take off before I passed out on the bed. What a mess.

The sound of the balcony door sliding open scratches through my brain.

"Wow, it's boiling out there!" Lucy exclaims far too brightly, floating in from the balcony, dressed in a hot-pink cover-up.

I push myself up onto my elbows, meeting her perkiness with a frown. "How can you be so chirpy? You drank far more than me."

She points a finger at me. "You're a lightweight. Come on. Get dressed. We're going down to the pool."

The thought of gathering enough energy to pull myself out of bed and get ready seems totally out of reach. I flop back down. "I'm hungover," I grumble. "Anyway, why are you so upbeat? It's not normal. Not this early in the morning. What time did you get up?"

"Eight o'clock. And it's eleven o'clock now actually." She settles down on the edge of the bed next to me. There's a twinkle in her eyes, and I can tell she's itching to tell me something. "I sent Steve a text, telling him what had happened between Mark and me. He texted back and said he hasn't been able to stop thinking about me since we spoke and he really likes me."

The reason for her buoyant mood becomes crystal clear.

I glance down at the mobile in her hand. "So, you've been texting Big Steve all morning."

She flops backwards on the bed next to me and stares at the ceiling. "He said he held back telling me how he felt about me because I was with someone and getting married."

"I suppose that's a good sign. Big Steve's not a marriage wrecker then," I reply warily.

"He asked to see me tonight, but obviously, I said I can't and told him we were here. Oh, Sophie, I haven't felt like this in ages." She beams. "I know what you're going to say. It's too fast, it's too soon, but I'm not going to rush things. All I want is someone to want me like Art wants you."

I'm not sure where it comes from, but at the mention of his name, the knot of emotion I've been carrying around inside me for the past twenty-four hours unravels, and I burst into tears.

"Sorry, Soph." She slings a consoling arm around me. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I don't know why I'm crying," I stammer through hot, ugly tears that are streaming down my face and dripping from my chin.

"You're crying because you're in love and you've had a setback."

I wipe my wet cheeks with my hand and verbalise the one thing that I'm most scared about, "I don't know whether we can make it through this."

"You need to talk it out with him."

"What's the use if he's not honest with me and he only tells me what he wants me to know? There's still so much I don't know about him. He's got a scar on his stomach from where he got stabbed, Luce. That's not normal, is it? But I don't know what happened because he won't tell me. And there's the club …"

"I thought you were okay about the club?"

"Not Dark Desires. Savage."

"Oh. Yeah, well, even more reason for you to talk it out, if you ask me."

I'm not convinced.

She leans back on the bed and fixes me with a look, which tells me I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear. "Okay. Imagine this. You finish it with him. You move out. It's over. You never see him again outside of work. He's just your boss, and you're just another employee. How do you feel?"

Fresh tears leak from the corners of my eyes and slide down my cheeks. My heart aches at the inconceivable thought.

"Bereft," I whisper. "I wouldn't be able to stay at Gladstone. I'd have to find another job. There's no way I could carry on working there."

"You spent yesterday trying to dance and drink your troubles away and forget, but you know what you really need to do."

I stare up at the stark white ceiling. She's right. There's only one thing that will make me forget, and it's the person who caused the pain in the first place.

"I know I need to speak to him, but I'm not ready yet. Finding out about the car accident has brought all the memories of Dad's death back, which isn't helping. I need a little time to get my head around things … and then I'll call him."

"See," she encourages, flashing me a smile. "Now, come on. You've done enough moping around. Let's get ready and head out. I've heard there's a pool party going on this afternoon.