The Wedding Engagement

Chapter Twenty-Two

The nursery school kids looked a little bored to Arran. It was career day in Miss Holland’s class and the ensemble were currently listening to Creepy Married Dad Guy go on about how important his work as an orthopedic surgeon was. Every so often the guy would glance over at Liv, clearly attempting to gauge whether she was impressed. The bloke was good-looking, and his patter no doubt usually got him a lot of attention. Despite the silver wedding ring on his left ring finger.

Dickhead.

Although so far, Liv didn’t look very impressed at all. A smile tugged at Arran’s mouth.

The knowledge that Liv had opened up to him at their last portrait sitting went some way toward encouraging him that they would be okay. She’d let him be there for her. Leaned on him a little. And it had felt good.

Clearly there was much more to her story. But he was in this for the long game and happy to wait to hear it.

Liv sidled up to him and went onto her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, as Creepy Married Dad Guy kept droning on. “You ready for your presentation?”

He nodded, breathing in her sweet scent with an acceleration in his heart rate. “Yeah, but mine’s a bit more interactive than this dude’s.”

“Thank goodness,” she whispered, giving a small shudder, which drew a chuckle from his lips.

He turned his head to speak right into her ear, keeping his voice low. His lips grazed her skin, sparking temptation within him. “If his work is so important, how come he’s always hanging around at the nursery school like a bad smell?”

He felt her convulse slightly as she suppressed a laugh, the bare skin of her arm brushing against his. She had goose bumps.

“Apparently,” she said in a low voice, “according to a local source, he’s been suspended from work for a bit. Got caught shagging one of the nursing staff in a broom cupboard when he was meant to be performing an operation.”

Arran arched an eyebrow in his best Mrs. MacKay impression. “Very important work indeed.”

Liv shot him a grin.

Broom-Cupboard Shagger kept droning on, something about intramedullary nails, whatever they fuck they were. Arran suppressed a yawn. What kind of twat used medical terminology in a talk for four-year-olds? This kind, obviously.

Liv clapped her hands together loudly, cutting the guy off. “Thank you so much to Charlie’s daddy! What a wonderful talk, wasn’t it, everybody?”

The kids were chatting among themselves and pretty much ignoring the speaker. The man himself seemed oblivious, clearly laboring under the misapprehension that Liv’s enthusiastic outburst was a sign of true admiration rather than a tactic to get the fucker to shut the hell up.

“Okay, class,” Liv said, commanding the kids’ attention with just the tone of her voice. Arran’s heart swelled with admiration. “Time for us to move over into the painting corner for Jayce’s daddy’s talk. And then Emily’s mummy will speak to us in the messy play area.”

There was much excited chatter as the children came over to where Arran had set up some small easels for everyone. Arran went around the group handing out aprons, and Liv helped the kids get them on. Cupboard Shagger was standing to one side eyeing them all, with Mrs. Mackay standing quite close next to him. Perhaps hoping to snag herself a shot in the supply cupboard later.

“Okay,” Arran said, rubbing his hands together. “Who likes to paint?”

“Me!” the whole class shouted, most of them shoving their hand right up in the air in an enthusiastic display.

“Excellent,” he said, taking a seat by his own easel. “Because painting is what I do for a living.”

There was a murmur of awe from the class at the idea that something they saw as a fun activity could be an actual job.

“I want to be a painter,” a wee girl said.

“Me too,” said the boy next to her.

“I’m going to be a painter like my daddy,” Jayce said proudly, and it made Arran’s heart soar. He glanced over at Liv, who was sitting among the kids, and she was looking at him with a soft smile on her face.

“Right. Down to business!” Arran said. “Each of you has a little mirror pinned to your easel. We’re going to have a go at self-portraits. That’s where you paint yourself. So have look in the mirror, and try to paint what you see onto your paper.”

There was more excited chatter as the children took up their brushes and began dipping them in the paints, splashing color onto their paper.

Arran did a quick representation of himself on his own paper, then got up to go around the class and praise each one in turn.

Every now and again Arran would look up from whomever he was chatting to, to find Liv watching him with that same soft look. And it made him all the more determined to be there for anything she needed from him.

—

“Come on, then. Tell me what’s happening,” Brodie told her, his blue eyes sparkling through the phone screen.

Liv set the phone on the table, leaning it against her mug, while she shoved a few things into her bag. “Nothing’s happening. He’s just painting my portrait.”

Brodie rolled his eyes. “You’re telling me that after all my jealousy-inducing hard work on the sten, nothing happened with you guys?”

“Well…” She paused. “It did. But only one kiss.”

He huffed out a breath. “For goodness’ sake, woman. Just jump the guy already.”

Liv zipped her bag, lifting the phone again and choosing to ignore that statement. “Enough about me. I want the deets about you and Ben. Did something happen with you guys? I noticed you both disappeared up to bed around the same time. But the next day we were all too distracted with the police for me to ask you about it.”

Brodie frowned. “Are you okay, by the way? After all that?”

“Fine,” she told him, suppressing the weird, guilty feeling that surfaced whenever she remembered the guy’s bloody nose. “They’ve got it in hand. Now, stop changing the subject. What happened with Ben?”

A broad smile broke out over Brodie’s face. “A gentleman never tells.”

“Aha!” she said, pointing at the screen. “That says everything.”

Brodie just continued to smile at her.

She shook her head. “Anyway. I need to head to Arran’s now. We’ve got another sitting for my portrait.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon. By the way, is this a life portrait? As in, a nude?”

Liv let out a snort of laughter. “Yeah, right.”

He shrugged. “Don’t rule the idea out. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Okay. I’m going now,” she told him, wanting to draw a line under his teasing. “Hope things go to plan with Ben.”

“Thanks. I’m working up to asking him to go to the wedding with me.”

Liv grinned. “Nice.”

“Is Jayce going to be there today?”

“No. He’s with Jess.”

He gave her a knowing smile. “Bye, Liv.” He winked. “Hope your clothes don’t fall off during your sitting.”

—

Liv sat quietly, comfortable in the silence as she watched Arran make his concentration face. He bit his lip, dabbing delicately at the canvas with a fine brush. Watching him created a sense of calm within her.

As he glanced over to look at her, as he frequently did during the sittings, something had shifted in his expression. She kept quiet, looking away, not wanting to disturb him when he was on a roll. She could read it now—when he became fully immersed.

It was almost a shock when he spoke. “Your eyes are so beautiful.” She glanced up quickly, and he was watching her, his brush no longer on the canvas. He swallowed. “I’ve often thought about how I’d capture your eyes.”

Her heart lifted into her throat, making her voice catch. “You have?”

He nodded.

Her spirits lowered again. “Though I suppose…that’s only normal for an artist.”

He hesitated, fiddling with the brush. “To be honest, I’ve only ever done that with you.” He held her gaze for a few seconds and Liv thought her heart might explode.

Clearing his throat, he ran a hand over his hair. “Do you want a drink?”

She didn’t want him to leave for the kitchen. She didn’t want anything to interrupt this conversation when he was saying these lovely things and making her feel like this. “No, thanks, I don’t need a drink just now.” Olivia Holland turning down a cup of tea? Red alert! She bit her lip. “How come you only think about painting my eyes?”

He seemed conflicted. “Yours are the most beautiful shade I’ve ever seen. I think of them as sea tones.”

She studied him as her pulse raced, peaking when he stood and came over to nestle onto the couch beside her. He took her hand silently, and she gave him a squeeze.

“That’s a lovely compliment,” she told him softly. “Thank you.”

Arran rested his head on the back of the couch, continuing to look at her and keeping hold of her hand. “It’s true.”

As he gazed into her eyes, all the feelings from that night on Skye resurfaced. The image of him grasping her red hood and holding her close. “All the better to eat you with.” She shivered with desire at the memory.

He frowned, shifting closer. “Are you cold?”

She shook her head, goose bumps erupting along her arm as he brushed against her.

His gaze penetrated hers, and it felt like he could read her thoughts. “What is it?”

Liv swallowed. “Just a bit…confused.”

He gave her a soft look, then squeezed her hand. “You know, Sam kind of engineered this portrait thing to get us some time together.” He paused to assess her reaction. “He was thinking of commissioning it anyway, but it brought the whole idea forward.”

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting too. “He did, did he?”

He smiled, leaning a little closer. “I totally jumped at the chance. To spend time with you, and also to paint you.”

Instinctively, she lifted a hand to stroke his face, absorbing the manner in which he shifted into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them to look directly into hers. “Liv—”

Just then her phone sounded with the tones of Avicii’s “Hey Brother.”

Arran smiled weakly. “I take it that’s your ringtone for Sam?”

She nodded, unable to tear her eyes off him. “Just let it go to voice mail.”

The phone rang off, then immediately began to ring again. A heavy dread dragged in her stomach. Something was wrong. She exchanged a look of concern with Arran as she shifted away to pull her phone out of her pocket. “Sam?”

“Liv.” He sounded breathless. “I’m sorry to interrupt your sitting, but we’ve got a situation.”

A lead weight thudded in her chest. “What is it?”

“Dave’s here. He turned up at Mum and Angus’s and demanded to speak to me. I’m on my way there now.”

Spiky shards of ice infiltrated her veins. “Shit.”

Arran was looking at her with concern in his eyes.

“I’m coming too,” she told her brother.

“You don’t have to. I’ll handle it.”

She clenched her jaw. “There’s no way I’m leaving you and Mum with him, without me there.”

Arran raised his eyebrows, clearly putting two and two together.

“Angus is there. It’ll be fine.”

She tightened her grip on the phone. “I’m setting off now. I’ll be there ASAP.”

He sighed. “Okay. Drive carefully. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she said, hanging up and meeting Arran’s concerned eyes. “Dave has turned up at Mum’s. He wants to speak to Sam.”

“Shit,” Arran said, running a hand over his hair.

She bit her lip as she got to her feet, a million thoughts running through her mind, the most prominent of which being I hope Mum is okay .

Arran got up too, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the studio and down the hallway, where he passed her her jacket and began pulling on his own.

Liv frowned as she shoved on her Converse. “What’re you doing?”

Arran looked up from where he was dealing with his own footwear, his jaw set. “If you think I’m letting you go there on your own, then you’re very mistaken.”

A warm feeling gathered in her stomach, starting to melt the lump of ice that Sam’s phone call had created. “You don’t have to do that.”

He took her hand as they exited the house and he guided her toward his car. “I know that. But I want to. And I’m driving.”

He opened his car and they climbed in. Liv didn’t try to protest about taking her car instead, because the way her mind was whizzing, she’d prefer not to have to concentrate on the road.

They made the drive over to her mum’s mostly in silence, with Arran reaching over to squeeze her hand every so often, and she was so grateful that he hadn’t listened to her when she’d told him not to come.

They pulled up outside the house, and her reflex compulsion to hesitate and delay seeing her toxic father again was knocked out of the park by her need to ensure that her mum and brother were okay. Liv hurried out of the car, Arran by her side, and they went to ring the doorbell.

The few seconds it took for an answer felt like hours. It was Angus who opened it, and he immediately folded her into a hug. “It’s okay, love. Everyone’s fine.”

Immediately soothed by Angus’s ever-calming presence, she felt her shoulders relax a little. “Is he still here?”

Angus nodded. “Let him say his piece and then it’ll be over.”

Liv moved past him, not bothering to take off her jacket or shoes. Angus gave Arran a smile as he brought up the rear. “Hi, son. Thanks for bringing her over.”

Arran shot Angus a smile in return. “No problem.”

Liv instinctively reached out to take Arran’s hand as they walked down the hallway to the kitchen, where the voices were by no means raised but the tension was thick.

He was sitting at the table as if he owned the place, lounging with one arm over the back of the chair. Liv ignored him, going straight over to where Tara was standing at the kitchen counter with Sam and giving each of them a hug.

Angus was the only one who sat at the table with Dave, and it didn’t escape Liv’s notice that he had positioned himself between Dave and the rest of them. Another tiny bolt of warmth fired into the iceberg in her chest.

Dave eyed her with a haughty air. “No hug for your old man?”

Liv met his gaze. “Nope.”

Arran shifted closer, putting his arm around her.

Dave narrowed his eyes a little. “Who the fuck’s this?” he asked, nodding toward Arran.

“You should probably know the answer to that, seeing as he’s been your son’s best friend his entire life,” Liv shot back, sliding her arm around Arran’s waist.

Dave blinked, then shifted his gaze back onto Sam, as if forgetting that Liv even existed. “I asked you to bring your fiancée to meet me. It’s beyond rude that she hasn’t come.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You don’t get to make demands.”

“You haven’t even told me her name,” Dave said.

“That’s because it’s none of your concern,” Sam shot back.

Dave smirked, lifting the mug of tea that someone must have made him. What a waste of perfectly good tea. “I suppose I’ll get to meet her at the wedding.”

Sam laughed bitterly. “There’s no way you’re coming.”

Dave smacked his mug down onto the table. “I’m your father. I have a right to be there.”

Sam sighed. “Why are you even bothered? You don’t give a shit about any of us.”

Dave clenched his jaw. “I’m the father of the groom and I am entitled to be present.”

“Entitled my arse,” Liv muttered.

Dave snapped his gaze back onto her. “That’s enough of your insolence, missy. You need to learn your place.”

Arran made a move forward, his face stony and his fists clenched at his sides. But she squeezed his waist, holding him back.

Tara stepped behind Angus, placing a hand on his shoulder, and he reached up to hold it. Her voice was firm. “I won’t have you speaking to my daughter like that, David. Especially not in my house.”

Dave eyed Tara, then Angus. He muttered something incomprehensible before lifting his mug again. Liv glanced at Sam and took in the hard set of his jaw. We need to get Dave out of here.

Dave put his mug down again. “Perhaps if you hadn’t poisoned my own children against me, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Tara let out a laugh devoid of any humor. “I didn’t need to do any poisoning. You did that yourself.”

Dave sat straighter. “You drove me away. You were an incompetent wife, never putting my needs first.”

“Okay,” Angus said, rising from his chair to reveal his full, stocky height. “This conversation isn’t going anywhere constructive. David, it’s time for you to leave.”

Dave lounged in his chair a few seconds longer, clearly not wanting to give Angus the satisfaction of doing what he’d asked. Then he got to his feet. “I need to head off now anyway.” He gave Sam a pointed look. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Please don’t be,” Sam muttered.

Dave turned and left the kitchen as if he hadn’t heard what Sam had said, and Angus followed him to the door.

A prickly feeling filled her gut, and Liv instinctively moved away from Arran and followed the feeling, and the two men, down the hallway. She sensed Arran right behind her and heard Sam’s and Tara’s footsteps behind him.

Opening the door, Dave turned to stare past Angus, toward them. “I’ll be at that wedding, by the way.”

He stepped out of the front door and Liv’s pulse spiked.

“I’ll escort him to his car,” Angus muttered, following.

Her spider senses escalated as she watched Dave let Angus overtake him on the driveway. Quickly, she stepped out, hurrying to catch up and ignoring her mum and Sam calling after her.

Just as she closed the gap between her and the two men, Dave aggressively yanked back his arm, making to strike Angus from behind.

Her pulse rocketed, immediately galvanizing her reflexes, and she threw herself into a rugby tackle, bringing Dave crashing down before his fist connected with Angus.

As they landed, she scrambled to get on top of his back, her adrenaline peaking with rage as she pinned him down and ground his face into the driveway.

All of her father’s crimes pulsed through her mind in a river of rage. The pain her mum had gone through at the hands of this scumbag. How Sam had suffered because of his ex, a relationship he’d fallen into because of the trauma Dave had left in his wake. And now, tainting the happy occasion of Sam and Maya’s wedding. How he ignored me my entire life, making me feel insignificant and unwanted.

All of it pushed her heart rate higher, infusing her muscles with boiling-hot blood and the strength of the enraged.

She pinned his arm behind his back, using her weight to keep him down and prevent him from hurting Angus or any of the rest of her family.

Liv was aware of her family’s and Arran’s urgent voices in the background, beyond the sound of the blood whooshing in her ears. Their sounds merged into an incomprehensible babble and she was vaguely aware of touches to her back as her family attempted to encourage her to back off.

No chance.

“Get off me, Sam,” Dave shouted.

Liv leaned in, speaking through gritted teeth. “It’s me .”

She twisted his arm, causing him to yelp.

Crouching lower, she whispered in his ear. “Don’t you dare try to attack Angus from behind, you fucking coward.”

He sucked in a breath. “ I’m your father, not him.”

“Like hell you are,” she shot back. “He’s more of a father than you ever were.”

She leaned even closer, spitting out her words. “Don’t underestimate me again, Dave . If you do as I say, then I won’t snap your arm in two.”

He tried to wriggle, but she pressed him farther into the ground, halting his movements.

“Listen to me. When I let you up, you fuck off. Keep fucking off until you’re outside the town limits. Then fuck off some more until you’re so far away, none of us ever have to see your fucking face ever again. And if you even think of mentioning my brother’s wedding one more time, I will pound you into the actual ground.” She paused to let that sink in. “Deal?”

He didn’t answer. So she twisted his arm a little more, eliciting another yelp. “Make the deal,” she said through gritted teeth. “Or I’ll tell everyone that you got beaten up by your own daughter.”

Dave’s voice was hoarse. “Deal.”

Liv released her hold and stood, watching him through narrowed eyes as he rose. He avoided her gaze as he rubbed his shoulder, quickly walking away down the driveway and around the corner. She clenched her fists. Couldn’t ignore that, could you, dickhead? That’s what you get.

Someone grabbed her from behind, squeezing her into a hug. Mum.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Tara said, her voice wobbly.

“I’m fine,” she said, the adrenaline calming, giving way to a hollow feeling in her chest.

Angus rubbed her back as Sam grabbed her from their mum to envelop her in another hug. She smiled weakly against his chest. “Bro. I said I’m fine.” She could hear his heart thumping.

Sam released her, leaning down to press his lips against her forehead.

“Hey. Your beard is tickling my nose,” she told him in an effort to calm his anxious demeanor.

He smiled, sliding an arm around her as the two of them headed back into the house, flanked by Tara and Angus. Liv glanced behind and met Arran’s eyes, taking in his wide-eyed expression with a spike of guilt and giving him a reassuring smile.

She was placed at the table with a cup of tea, Sam on one side and her mum on the other, each holding a hand, and Angus fussing around them all.

Eventually, she told them she couldn’t drink her tea because she had no hands left, and they both released her. Liv kept her eyes on Arran, who was sitting across from her, and sipped her drink. The warmth in his eyes sustained her through everyone else’s concerned chatter. Comforting hands kept touching her shoulder and rubbing her back, and every time she was asked whether she was okay, she’d reply, “I’m fine” with a smile, all the while keeping her eyes on Arran, who was watching her silently across the table. And she was fine. If fine meant a hollow nothingness in her chest. An abyss devoid of any guilt or regret. A vacuum sporting the absence of any kind of anxiety about having just tackled her own father to the ground and very nearly broken his arm.

The conversation turned to the audacity of Dave and the fact that they’d never seen him with his tail between his legs before.

“I’m telling you,” Sam said. “Never in a million years did I think I’d see him scurry off without a second glance. That was fucking awesome, sis.”

Angus nodded in agreement. “I had no idea he was trying to attack me.”

Then her mum frowned, and Liv knew what was coming. “You could have handled it yourself, though, Angus. Liv didn’t need to get involved.”

Her heart rate accelerated, but she held her tongue.

Angus’s brow knitted. “It would have been hard to counter when he came at me from behind. He would have had me on the ground before I could do anything about it.”

“Well, Sam could’ve intervened, then,” Tara said, nodding toward her son.

Sam appeared bemused. “No, I couldn’t have. Not in time. I hadn’t even noticed what was happening.” He shot Liv a grin. “Not like this one, sensing danger like frickin’ Spider-Man.”

Tara folded her arms. “It’s best not to sink to his level.”

Liv’s stomach bottomed out.

Sam frowned, holding his palms up in confusion. “So it would be fine for me or Angus to take him on, but not Liv? Despite her being the only one of us who’s a trained fighter?”

Tara stayed silent, and that said it all.

Liv stood. “Arran and I have to head out now. I need to fetch my car from his.” She sent him a pleading look, and immediately he was on his feet, rounding the table to stand next to her, take her hand, and lead her down the hallway.

The others followed them, saying goodbye and not seeming to notice that final conversation had rattled her way more than the fight with her dad had. Arran tucked her under his arm and held her close as they made their way down the short driveway to his car.

Once they climbed in, he took hold of her in a tight hug. “Sorry. Been waiting a while to do this. I didn’t want to intrude on the family fussing.”

Liv managed a small laugh. “Hug gratefully received.”

He let her go with a smile and started the car.

Arran must’ve correctly sensed that she wasn’t ready to talk, because the return trip was as silent as the outward journey, punctuated by the same intermittent hand squeezes.

Once they arrived, he killed the engine, watching her.

Liv took a breath. “Can I come back in? I’d like us to finish a little more of the painting, if you don’t mind. I don’t see why Douchebag Dave should get to interfere with its progress, and at least we’re both off tomorrow for the bank holiday.”

He nodded. “No problem.”

—

She’d been sitting there for a while, staring into space while Arran painted, before it occurred to her that since they’d arrived home and he’d fixed them something to eat, he still hadn’t pressed her to divulge how she was feeling. A refreshing change from her family’s constant requests to know the answer to that question. Especially since she knew that she was required to censor her answer, in order not to be too negative or assertive or whatever else. Well, that was what her mum required anyway.

Maya had texted asking the same thing, and Liv had replied with I’m fine, I’ll speak to you and Elise about it tomorrow at the tearoom x .

“Thank you,” she told Arran.

He shifted his gaze from the canvas. “What for?”

She took a breath. “For coming with me to Mum’s. For being there for me.” She smiled weakly. “For not pestering me about my feelings like everyone else did.”

Arran returned her expression. “Anytime.” He lifted his brush to the canvas again. “By the way, you were spot on when you dubbed him Douchebag Dave.”

She managed a soft laugh. “Right? I think we need to change his name by deed poll.”

The sound of his chuckle soothed her ragged nerves. It was like warm honey, the same as his eyes.

“I really wanted to punch him in the face, though,” Arran said, his voice tight despite the recent chuckle.

“I know you did.”

He shot her a soft look over the top of the canvas.

They settled into comfortable silence again as he recommenced painting. Liv shifted a little on the couch, noticing that her left knee was tender. She rolled up her jeans to reveal a big purple bruise on her kneecap. It must’ve been acquired during that rugby tackle.

She tried to roll it back down before Arran saw, but she wasn’t quick enough.

“Oof, that looks sore,” he said, doing a double take.

Liv hurriedly covered it up. “It’s okay. Not that painful.”

Arran held her gaze for a moment. “Your knee, or the situation?”

The instinct to put on a front surfaced. But she was so sick and tired of hiding. Plus, the pull to confide in him was too great after he’d been there for her during Dave’s barrage of toxic messages and after his steady, comforting presence this evening. “Both, to be honest.” She took a deep breath, overwhelmed by her emotions. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning his forearms on his knees.

Her pulse gathered pace. “What does it mean that I don’t feel anything about attacking my dad?”

He met her eyes steadily, as if willing her to continue.

The all-too-familiar sickening feeling swelled in her stomach. “I slammed my father onto the ground. I hurt him. And when I realized I’d hurt him, I didn’t care. I just hurt him some more.” She paused to search his face. “And still, I don’t care.”

Arran clattered his brush onto the desk, leaving his chair to come and sit with her. “I think it means you have closure.” He took her hand. “Why? What do you think it means?”

Tightness swelled in her throat, and for a moment she couldn’t squeeze her voice out. “I, ah…” She took a breath, and during the pregnant pause that followed, she tried to formulate the jumbled thoughts in her mind into some sort of coherent sentence. Surely translating her thoughts and feelings into words shouldn’t be this hard. But she’d never tried before, not when it came to this.

He didn’t hurry her, but held her hand gently while she battled to find her words. “What if it means, deep down, that I’m…a bit like him?” Her voice broke as she uttered the last syllable, tears spilling out onto her face. Tears that she felt she’d been holding in all her life.

Arran brought her closer, lifting a hand to wipe the moisture from her cheeks. “Sweetheart. Why on earth would you think you’re anything like him?”

Her breathing felt shaky. “When we were growing up, everyone would go on about how Sam was the spit of Mum and I was Dad’s double.”

“That’s only appearance, Liv,” he said gently. “It’s just DNA. Nothing else.”

Her palpitations increased, making her breathless. “But there’s more to it than that. DNA affects personality as well as looks.”

He gathered her into a tight cuddle. “I promise you’re nothing like him. He’s a selfish prick who thinks of no one but himself. You think about everyone , Liv. You put everyone first. To the point that I worry you don’t take care of your own needs.”

Something broke inside her, and the tears flowed more freely. She cried them silently onto Arran’s T-shirt, feeling guilty that she was soaking the poor man in the process. Pickling him in salt water.

Eventually, she managed to speak again, to continue saying what she’d never been able to tell anybody, including her twin brother and best friends. “You remember Dean?”

“Your ex who we saw at Angela and Sarah’s wedding?”

“Yeah. He was my longest relationship, but still only about six months. Everyone thinks he dumped me, but the truth is, I dumped him .”

He stroked her hair. “You’re allowed to break up with someone, Liv. You can’t stay with them if it’s not right.” He lifted her chin to smile at her. “Even I know that, and I’ve been on the receiving end, big-time.”

She searched his face. “What did you say to Jess? When she told you. Did you shout at her?”

He frowned. “No, of course not. She was upset and crying. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. I mean, I was shocked and my pride was hurt, so I didn’t say too much. Then when we next spoke I asked her a lot of questions. But it was a discussion, not a shouting match.” He paused, running his thumb over her cheek. “Why? Did Dean have a go at you?”

She swallowed. “I didn’t know how to end it without upsetting him. I hadn’t been feeling it for a few weeks, but he still seemed into me. So I…kind of ghosted him.” She winced, remembering how immature and unkind it’d been. “Then when he asked me about it, I pretended I’d just been busy and had phone problems. I made out it was in his head.”

Nausea swelled inside her, and her breathing became more labored. “I gaslighted him, Arran. Then, when he backed me into a corner and demanded to know what was going on, I finished it.” Her chest was constricted and her head was spinning. “He—he told me I was just like my dad.” Her voice gave out and Arran pulled her into him again. “He knew about the way Dad used to act, because I’d told him everything.”

She took a breath, trying to stop her words from coming out in a broken staccato. “I never told anyone what I did because I was so ashamed. So I made out Dean had finished it. Everyone believed it, and when it got around that we’d broken up, I noticed he didn’t correct anyone. I think it suited him to pretend he’d been the one to end it.”

Arran’s voice rumbled through his chest, soothing into her bones. “It was just his pride, sweetheart. That’s all. His ego was dented, so he lashed out.” He sighed. “I think a lot of dudes can be like that.”

An invisible weight drifted from her shoulders. Arran hadn’t thought she was irrational so far. Nor was he telling her she was an evil person. “But I pretended his observations and his hurt weren’t valid. That he’d imagined it. Just like Dad did to Mum and Cat did to Sam.”

“It’s not the same. You cared about his feelings and you were trying to protect them. Perhaps you went about it in the wrong way, but you were only young, and your dad had just left a couple of years before, don’t forget. The trauma of it was still pretty raw.” He kissed the top of her head. “Also, I reckon no matter how you’d broken up with him, the reaction would’ve been the same. He sounds like the sort of guy who was always going to lash out when his pride was hurt. And, what’s more, he knew exactly how to do it. What your weak spot was.” He gave her a squeeze. “ He was the bad guy, Liv. Not you.”

She swallowed, relief at his support spurring her on. “Ever since I was little, my grandmother, Dad’s mum, would tell me how much like my dad I was. In both looks and temperament. And then…” She tailed off.

“And then, what?” he asked, softly.

She sat back to face him again. “Mum was always on at me about speaking my mind. Insinuating I should censor myself and not express too much negative emotion or be too loud or disagreeable. My doing so used to cause arguments with Dad and she would say we were too similar, that’s why we butted heads. She wanted me to put up and shut up to keep the peace.”

Arran was listening intently, holding her hand with a gentle, reassuring pressure.

“Then one time I got into a fight at school. Some guy had been bullying my friend Olly and I stood up for them.”

“Shit, I remember that,” he told her. “Didn’t you floor the bully by sweeping his feet?”

She nodded, half expecting to be chastised.

Arran held out his hand for a low five, and after a moment’s surprise, she obliged him.

“That was awesome,” he said, his eyes wide. “Everyone at school was talking about it and I was like, yeah, that’s my best friend’s sister.” He had a proud look on his face and she loved him for it. “Hold on,” he said, putting two and two together. “Did your mum bawl you out for that?”

She nodded.

“No way,” he said slowly. “Why? That dude was a notorious dickhead. Didn’t he have your friend by the throat at one point?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I had to intervene before he choked Olly out. But when Mum found out, she wouldn’t listen to my reasons. Just told me that I had trouble controlling my temper and was just like my father.”

Arran was silent for a moment. “A bit like earlier, when she was critical of you defending Angus.”

Liv nodded, a painful lump constricting her throat.

“Come here,” he told her softly.

She about collapsed onto him, burying her face in his T-shirt. He smelled so good. “I think that was why I started reading up on it,” she told him. “Narcissism, I mean. Perhaps I was trying to convince myself I wasn’t the same.” She swallowed. “But maybe emotionally charged thoughts carry more weight than logical ones, and deep down it still drives me? I don’t really know.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “I understand.”

Her being felt lighter, as if speaking her most private thoughts had banished an inner demon. But it had sucked all the energy from her, leaving her physically and emotionally drained. “I’m so tired,” she sighed into his chest.

He rubbed her back. “I can drive you home, in your car. I’ll get a taxi back again.”

She shook her head against his chest, then lifted it to meet his gaze. “Please can I stay here?”

He wiped the final smears of moisture from her cheeks, a soft expression on his face as he nodded. “Of course you can. Anything you want.”

She searched his eyes. “Will you stay with me? I don’t want to sleep alone.”

His voice was gentle as he held her gaze. “I will.”

He stood and lifted her to her feet, but her legs buckled. Everything felt like it had turned to jelly, and suddenly the bedroom seemed awfully far away.

Arran scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the studio and up the stairs into his room, where he gently deposited her on the bed. Then he got out a T-shirt and a pair of shorts for her to wear.

He left for the bathroom to change and brush his teeth, knocking on the door before he came back out, to make sure she’d finished changing.

Liv vaguely registered that he was wearing black boxer briefs and a dark T-shirt, before half stumbling into the bathroom to wash her face and use some mouthwash. She could have sworn she completed the walk from the en suite back to the bed already asleep.

Arran turned off the bedside lamp and cuddled her. His torso felt firm and defined through his soft T-shirt, and she snuggled in tightly. “I never told anyone that stuff before,” she said, her eyes already closed.

“I know, Aggie,” he whispered. “I’m glad you told me.”

“Me too,” she breathed, her consciousness drifting away.