The Wedding Engagement

Chapter Twenty-One

Arran narrowed his eyes as he concentrated on the canvas. “Mountains or beach?”

“That’s an easy one,” Liv replied. “Mountains.”

He smiled. “Same. Your turn.”

Liv thought for a moment. “Okay…when you’re out at a restaurant, is it starter or dessert?”

He slowly lifted his gaze from the canvas in mock disapproval. “That’s not an or situation. I’d want both.”

She grinned, pointing her finger at him. “Correct. It was a trick question, and you passed. Your turn.”

Smiling, he went back to the painting. “Scones or cake?”

She huffed out a breath in mock exasperation. “That, Mr. Adebayo, is a silly question.”

He met her eyes. “But what about those wee cakes we had at our afternoon tea? Surely some of those rivaled the scones.”

She pursed her lips. “Nothing can rival scones.” Her phone buzzed in her pocket, signaling a message, but she ignored it. “Scones rule.” Her phone buzzed again twice in succession. I’m popular today.

“Fair enough,” he replied.

“What about…Han Solo or Luke Skywalker?” Her phone buzzed yet again, and this time her curiosity won out and she reached into her pocket to retrieve it.

“Luke,” Arran replied, continuing to paint. “The Force is strong with that one. Plus the poor guy had major daddy issues.”

Smiling, Liv unlocked her phone. But the expression froze on her face as she registered the sender of the messages.

“What’s up?” Arran asked, looking at her with a frown.

She ran her eye down the stream of texts, her blood freezing in her veins and the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. For a moment she couldn’t speak.

He put his brush down and came to sit next to her, wiping his hands on a cloth as he went. “It’s not him, is it?”

She nodded, her mouth dry. It was impossible to read the messages out loud, because just glancing through them made her feel sick. So she showed him the screen. He closed his warm hand around hers, and they held the phone together as they read through.

I’m sick of your disrespectful attitude.

It disgusts me. Ignoring my needs constantly. It’s so selfish.

When I message you I expect a prompt reply. You can’t be that busy with work.

You’re only a glorified baby sitter after all. Not much brain power needed for that.

I want to know the date for your brother’s wedding and I expect an answer from you. Today.

Arran slid his arm around her shoulders, bringing her close and kissing the top of her head. She closed her eyes to counteract the burning sensation within them, her hand with the phone flopping into Arran’s lap, where his hand closed over hers.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

She turned her face into his chest, trying to swallow the painful lump in her throat. “I should’ve blocked him.”

He lifted his other arm to circle her, pulling her right into him and holding her tightly. “Shall we block him now?”

She attempted to summon the power of logic. “Yeah. Could you do it for me, please? I don’t want to look at it again.”

His voice was soft. “Sure.” He kept an arm around her as he took the phone and quickly tapped the screen. A few seconds later, he placed it next to him on the couch, then wrapped his arm around her again.

They stayed silent for a moment, Arran stroking her hair as she pressed her face against his chest. Maybe, if she pressed hard enough, it’d squeeze the painful thoughts from her mind.

“I deleted the messages too,” he said, the vibration thrumming soothingly against her cheek.

Her throat felt tight. “Thank you.”

The bass of his voice was calming. “Do you think he’s still in town?”

The idea somehow seemed less scary when Arran was holding her. “I don’t think so. It’s been a few weeks. Hopefully Sam saw him off last time.”

He kissed the top of her head again, then eased her away, meeting her eyes and tucking her hair behind her ear. “You sit here for a minute. I’m going to bring us some tea.”

She managed a weak smile. “That sounds great.”

Arran paused, brushing his thumb over her cheek, and it seemed as if he wanted to say something more. But then he pressed his lips quickly to her forehead and got up.

When he came back, it seemed as if he’d only just left the room, and Liv realized she’d been sitting and staring at the wall with a blank mind the whole time he’d been in the kitchen.

She accepted a warm mug of tea as he sat down, slipping his arm around her. “How’re you doing?” he asked.

She sighed. “Trying not to think about it.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Hopefully you won’t hear from him again now that he’s blocked.”

Blinking, she took a deep breath. “I should’ve blocked him years ago. I should’ve known that if I did ever hear from him, then it wouldn’t be because he was actually interested in me.”

He ducked his head to look at her, and she turned hers to meet his eyes, leaning back against the heat of his arm. “There’s nothing wrong in that, Liv. It was only natural that you’d hold out that hope.”

She took a deep breath. “Natural, or naive?”

He smiled. “Perhaps a little of both. But naivety isn’t a sin. It’s a reflection of being a good person at heart.”

A jolt of anxiety pierced her chest, and nausea circled her stomach. “Do you think that we’re in charge of the goodness of our hearts? Or is it something printed from birth? Like, as in…genetically determined?”

He frowned, studying her face. “I think it’s complex. A bit of nature and nurture. Like most things.”

She nodded, the nausea intensifying and making her a little breathless. What if it was more nature than nurture?

“What is it?” Arran asked, his eyes shining with concern.

Dean’s voice cut through her thoughts. “For fuck’s sake, Liv. You’re just like your dad.”

She swallowed. “Nothing.” She sipped her tea. “You know, Mum told us these stories about how he behaved when they first got together. He seemed like this huge romantic. Showering her with affection, making these grand gestures. One time he got onstage at a gig they’d gone to, grabbed the mic, and told the crowd he was in love with her.” She took a breath, noticing that Arran was listening intently. “And when he proposed to her, he hired one of those small aircraft pulling a banner that read ‘Marry Me Tara.’?”

“Wow,” Arran said, his brow deeply furrowed. “That’s intense.”

She nodded. “I’ve read up on it. It’s called love bombing, and it’s what narcissists do to tether their…victim to them, emotionally.”

“Shit,” he said softly. “That’s sick.”

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “Catriona was the same with Sam. She wasn’t as showy, but she used the same tactic. Stealthily creating scenarios where he’d end up hurt, then comforting him like his savior. Overboard on the public displays of affection, acting like she was running around after his every need at home.”

He nodded. “I remember all that. I’m sorry to say that I thought she was just madly in love with him. So I guess I was love bombed by association.”

Liv shook her head. “It’s not your fault. None of us spotted it at first. And the only person to blame was her.” She pushed her glasses up her nose, letting out a shaky breath. “The gestures of ‘love’ get withdrawn, with their victim believing if only they could behave in just the right way, then they’d get it back again.” Her voice was starting to wobble, so she stopped and sipped her drink quietly.

“It sounds like you’ve read a lot about it,” he said, tucking a wave of hair behind her ear. “Is that because of what happened to your mum and Sam?”

She hesitated, her mouth going dry. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

He was studying her again. She could almost hear the click and whir of his brain.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, closing her eyes in discomfort.

He raised his eyebrows. “What for?”

Liv opened her eyes to meet his. “For off-loading on you. Sam’s your best mate, so hearing all this is upsetting.”

Hesitating for a moment, he placed his mug on the floor, followed by hers, then took her shoulders. “Liv, you don’t need to apologize to me. I want you to tell me stuff because I’m your friend. I told you that before. And it applies to everything, not just that scumbag we had to report to the police at the time.” He gave her a soft smile. “I feel like you always hold back from leaning on me. Or anyone else. I think you’re too consumed by protecting everyone’s feelings.”

Her pulse was tripping along—because every word rang true.

“The only thing that does upset me,” he said slowly, “is that everything you’ve just said was about your mum and Sam. Not you.” His gaze was warm but intense. “Dave’s behavior affected you too, Liv. Just as much as Sam. You deserve to tell your side of the story. You deserve empathy in return for the shiploads of stuff you dish out to everyone else. You can tell me anything you want, and you don’t need to worry that I won’t be able to hear it. I’m your friend and I want to be there for you.”

She was starting to feel a little dizzy now. Overwhelmed. His words soothed her psyche, and she remembered Sam giving her a similar sentiment at Christmas, trying to encourage her to open up. And yet she still hadn’t been able to confide in him properly either. “Don’t be negative, Liv.”

She nodded, tears pricking at her eyes. “Thank you.”

Arran smiled, and she wrapped her arms around him in a hug, trying to convey her appreciation through her body rather than the words that were failing her.

The baby monitor on Arran’s desk crackled to life with the sound of Jayce waking from his afternoon nap.

Liv lifted her head from Arran’s chest. “Can I fetch him? I’ve not had a Jayce cuddle in ages and I’m getting withdrawal symptoms.”

He had a soft look on his face. “Course. I’ll come with you.”

They stood and left the studio for the stairs, Liv going ahead so that she could be the first into the nursery to surprise Jayce. Her heart was tripping with excitement by the time she neared the top of the stairs. Seeing him in a classful of kids at nursery school wasn’t the same as being one-on-one with him at home.

She cracked open the door, waiting for him to spot her. He was sitting up in his cot bed, facing away from her. She let the door open a little farther, the creak of it causing Jayce to turn his head. The wide smile that spread over his face as he spotted her swelled her heart so big it seemed to push all thoughts of Douchebag Dave out of her mind.

Jayce sat up straight in bed. “Miss Lib!”

She entered the room, grinning. “Hey, buddy!” Reaching out, she lifted him into her arms, cuddling him close and absorbing the adorable squishiness. Jayce leaned back to finger her glasses and she rubbed her nose against his.

There was another creak at the door, and she lifted her gaze to see Arran doing the devastating leaning-against-the-doorframe-with-folded-arms pose, giving her a hot, fuzzy feeling. He smiled at her with a kind of wistful longing that she didn’t know what to do with but really liked nonetheless.