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How could she have stayed away from her spiritual home for so long?
How could she have been content to live amongst the urban sprawl and toxic smog of pollution in London?
Her gaze snagged on Flora and Craig in the gardens below the window. She couldn’t help smiling when she saw that Flora was standing on a stone bench, giggling as she twirled left then right in a variety of increasingly comedic poses whilst Craig scampered around in front of her shouting directions and clicking his camera. A few minutes later, he reached up to help her down and pointed towards the driveway, lined on both sides with black wrought-iron lampposts, and they continued their perambulation along its length, with Craig pausing every so often to take Flora’s photograph.
It was the first time in months she’d seen Flora relaxed and having fun. The smile on the young girl’s face as she swung around one of the lampposts, her hair flying high in the air, was a joy to witness. A rush of pleasure surged through Sophie’s veins. She hoped that when this circus of a wedding was over, she could resume her easy-going friendship with her ditzy trainee who professed to be vegetarian but whom she’d seen devouring a chicken tikka salad on more than one occasion, not to mention the illicit bacon sandwiches dripping with brown sauce.
As she turned away from the window, she tried to think back to the last time she’d had fun. A wave of melancholy swept over her, but she shoved it from her mind with a grimace of irritation. She had no time to indulge in such self-focused introspection today. After searching the corridor for anything that looked vaguely like it could be a bathroom and finding nothing, she headed back down the stairs. In desperation, she pushed open the first door she came to and immediately found herself enveloped in a cloud of swirling fog.
What was going on?
To her horror, the door swung shut behind her and clicked. She peered to her left and then her right, trying to see through the murkiness.
‘Hello?’
‘Sorry,’ called out a voice. ‘The ice machine has gone haywire. Just give us a couple of minutes, darling. We’ve opened the windows and it should clear shortly.’
She recognised the room now. It was the ballroom where the tech guys had been setting up a sound stage. She was reaching for the brass doorknob when her eye caught on a figure emerging from the smoke like a ghostly apparition alighting from a steam train; six-foot-two, slender, his hair tufted into familiar spikes, a grin stretching his cheeks, those dimples evidencing the delight he experienced at seeing her.
‘Sophie! I thought it was you I saw on the steps earlier. What are you doing here?’
‘I could ask you the same question.’
Her heart hammered a concerto of pleasure against her ribcage and her mouth had suddenly become dry.
‘We’ve been given permission to set up the stage and do a sound-check. Finn’s here with Lilac so I thought I’d drop in and we could have a beer and a catch up before I hotfoot it over to my gig in Bristol tonight. He’s not had time to sort out a stag night, so it’ll be the last opportunity we have before the wedding.’
Noah was standing so close to her she could feel his breath on her cheek. He hadn’t touched her – no welcoming peck on the cheek, no grabbing her hand to guide her from the room. He simply stood in front of her, his steel-grey eyes fixed on hers, his lips parted slightly, waiting.
Sophie’s thoughts ricocheted around her brain. She had no idea what to do, but she knew Noah was waiting for her tomake the first move. She could smile and make small talk about Lilac’s predicament. She could ask about his family, his band, the concert in London next week; tell him she’d invited Nessa and they were both excited.
But if she was completely honest with herself, in that precise moment, she had no interest in his answers. Throughout her life, her head had always ruled her heart. Was now the time to experiment with allowing her heart a chance to star in the decision-making show instead? Would that lead to a happier existence? How would she know until she tried it?
Before she had time to talk herself out of it, she inhaled a deep breath, clenched her fists, and took a tiny step forward. She sought his lips with hers and when they met, she experienced a crash of such pure happiness her knees weakened. She grabbed Noah’s forearms and leaned into his chest, desperate to prolong their kiss as sparks of desire shot out to her extremities and sent tingles to her fingertips. Their bodies still melded together perfectly, their embrace as familiar as ever, and she felt as though the last four years had evaporated with the dry ice and they were still together, still in love, still a couple.
Sophie and Noah. Noah and Sophie.
She broke away for a second to scour his face, picking out the blemishes, the freckles, the tiny scar on his left temple, to reassure herself that this was still her Noah. She was surprised but relieved to see that nothing had changed. A feeling of total security enveloped her, as if all her troubles had been snuffed out simply by Noah’s presence; that the safety net which had been whipped from under her by her aunt’s death had been rolled back out by Noah.
‘Noah, we’re late. We need to get… Oh, sorry, I thought…’
‘Sophie, we have to talk before we…’
‘I know.’
‘I have to go. I’ve got my gig in Bristol. Can I call you? Or were you thinking of coming to the concert in London next week?’
Sophie nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. It took all her willpower, such as it was, to keep the lid on her emotions and not crumble into an embarrassing heap of tears in front of Noah and his crew, who stood in a line only six feet away, staring expectantly at him.
‘Then perhaps I can take you out to dinner afterwards?’
‘Great.’
Sophie watched Noah turn, slap one of the tech guys on his back, and stride from the ballroom. Was her heart, which had been an enemy for so long as far as Noah was concerned, now her friend? If the warm feelings swirling around her chest were any kind of barometer, then it was.
But there was one thing she knew now with absolute certainty. She still loved Noah. Always had. He was the first person she’d kissed all those years ago and, no matter what had happened in between, she still wanted him to be the last.
Chapter Twenty Six
