32. Thirty-Two

Thirty-Two

T he heat of the blazing sun beats down on the sandstone promenade of the marina, overlooking the cobalt-blue waters of the Mediterranean. I can't deny I'm a little impressed that Art's been here five minutes and he already knows more about the area than I do. The all-inclusive bar has proven too much of a temptation for Lucy and me, meaning we haven't even ventured out of the hotel until now.

He leads me by the hand across a wooden jetty, surrounded by shiny white boats of all different sizes.

"Aren't Lucy and Big Steve meant to be coming?"

We come to a stop at a gleaming white boat, and a familiar female laugh ripples through the air. Big Steve appears from below deck with Lucy hanging off his arm, dressed in a bottle-green halter-neck bikini, her hair piled on top of her head.

"He sorted the boat for me," Art says, turning to me. "Ladies first."

This isn't a boat. It's a yacht. The type you see in movies, owned by millionaires or members of the Mafia, usually with a very pretty woman sunning herself on the deck.

He places a hand on my back as he guides me onto the step, and I grab the metal handrail and hop aboard.

"This place is fantastic! Come on, Soph. I'll show you." Lucy beckons and ducks below deck.

I follow her down a couple of steps into the cabin and through a polished light-oak door. An integrated kitchen is off to the right, and there's a modern, small but perfectly formed bathroom to the left and an open plan cream-and-grey seating area with steps leading up to a double bed. It looks very swish and expensive.

"This is how the other half lives," she enthuses, flinging herself backwards onto the mountain of decorative cushions placed strategically on the bed.

I tug at the black kimono I've worn over the top of my bikini, not entirely sharing my friend's enthusiasm. I glance around. This is flash. "Why has Art hired a yacht? It must have cost a fortune."

Lucy pushes herself up onto her elbows. "He's loaded. When I just said about how the other half lives, I was referring to Art."

"Yeah, but …" I frown.

I know Art's wealthy, of course. He – we – live in an amazing apartment in the most expensive part of London. He owns the very large hotel I work in – and he didn't have to buy it. He let me live nearly rent-free in another of his apartments. He drives an Aston Martin, wears designer clothes, bought me a dress that cost more than I earn in a month. He hired a private jet to fly to Ibiza to see me. It sounds silly to say, but I don't think about it.

"Yeah, but what?"

"I just never think about any of that when I'm with him."

"Well, you'd better get used to it."

"Why?"

Lucy chews her lip and glances about the cabin. "Well, this is fab, isn't it?" she says, changing the subject.

She's acting odd again.

"How are you and Big Steve getting on?"

Lucy gives me a coy smile. "Good."

She's got to do better than that.

"What happened last night then?"

"Nothing."

I roll my eyes in disbelief. "Oh, come on, Luce. Pull the other one."

She looks me straight in the eye. "Honestly, we just talked. He ordered room service and a bottle of wine, and we chatted about our childhoods, our relationships. We got to know each other. It was nice. I fell asleep on the bed, and he took the chair."

I arch my eyebrows in surprise and sit down on the sofa. "What a gentleman."

"He is." She breaks out into a grin and scoots off the bed to come and sit beside me. "He's the old-fashioned type as well, opening doors for me, pulling out chairs, little things like that. Mark never did any of those things. I can't believe that this was meant to be our honeymoon."

Lucy and Mark's wedding seems like a distant memory.

"It has been a bit of a whirlwind these last few days," I agree.

"But they say everything happens for a reason."

Outwardly, she's back to her bright, bubbly self, but that doesn't make me any less concerned about her. The ink's barely dried on her marriage certificate.

"I'm saying this because I'm your friend," I begin carefully. "I think Big Steve likes you, and I can tell that you like him. I just don't want you to rush into something and get hurt."

She smiles weakly and fiddles with the strap of her bikini. "I understand. If you were in my situation, I'd be saying the same thing to you, but I'm not rushing into anything. He doesn't want to either. He's conscious of how soon things have ended between Mark and me. That's why we just talked last night. The more I get to know him, the more I like him. I don't want a rebound fling with him. I think too much of him for that. He's nice, and I don't know where it's going to lead, but for now, I need a guy who's caring and attentive and kind." She pauses, and her mouth twists into a smile as she gives me the side-eye. "And when the time's right … will give me a good seeing-to."

I burst out laughing. She can't help herself.

"And do you think he will?"

"I don't know." She chews the corner of her lip thoughtfully. "But I'm gagging to find out."

We fall about in a fit of giggles over the sofa and are disturbed by a knock. The door opens, and Big Steve pokes his head around. The tip of his nose and forehead are pink from too much sun, and his eyes glint with amusement as he catches us acting like a couple of schoolgirls.

"There's champagne on deck for you lovely ladies."

"What a charmer." Lucy smiles.

He flashes a cheeky grin. "For you, I'll be anything you want."

"What an offer." She bats her eyelashes, and I suddenly feel like a gooseberry.

"Thanks," I interject. "We'll be up in a minute."

He nods and disappears, closing the door as he goes.

"What?" she protests innocently at the look I shoot her. "I was only flirting."

I'm beginning to doubt her plans for taking things slowly. In fact, I don't think Lucy could take anything slowly if she tried.

"I think his resolve's crumbling," she says decisively, pushing her boobs up in her green bikini top. "He couldn't take his eyes off me when he first saw me today."

Lucy has always had envious cleavage.

"You look good."

"So do you. All my bloody bikinis look far better on you. No wonder Art's smitten. I'm glad you two worked things out."

I can't help but smile. "Last night, he told me he loved me."

Lucy gives me a playful slap on the arm. "See, I knew it! Steve said he's never known him as head over heels as he is with you." She looks at me for a long moment, as if she's thinking about what to say. "I'm so happy for you."

I'm sure I see her well up but can't be certain because she's suddenly on her feet and at the door.

"Come on. I need some champagne."