Page 77 of The Wedding Engagement

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So basically, in summary, you kissed her and now she doesn’t want anything to do with you?” He grinned. “Maybe you’re just a really bad kisser.”

Arran couldn’t help laughing. “Watch it, Holland. I’ll have you know my kissing skills are top-notch.”

Sam was grinning. “Don’t worry, I know. I heard all about it from Chloe Reid in sixth year.”

“Really?” Arran said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yep. She was singing your praises to anyone who’d listen.”

Arran smiled. “Nice.”

“I’ll bet if you got a bit of time alone with Liv, you’d discover what’s gone wrong.” Sam rubbed his beard. “She’s so shit at lying, you’d be able to figure out what’s up.”

“Maybe,” Arran said, aware that he’d been thinking the very same thing before he’d left the house—that if he could just see her face-to-face, and one-on-one, he’d be able to help her figure stuff out.

“I’m telling you,” Sam continued. “She was the first to realize Santa wasn’t real and did a really crappy job at hiding it from me.”

Arran dropped his jaw in mock affront. “Santa isn’t real? What the fuck, dude?”

Sam laughed.

“I’d love to get some quality time with her,” Arran said. “I wouldn’t push it; just be there with her and give her some space.”

Sam gave him a soft smile. “I tell you what,” he said, leaning back to stuff his hands into his pockets. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about. Something I wanted to get Liv for our birthday but I didn’t get around to it because of wedding brain. And it might help your cause.”

Intrigued, Arran took his arms off the fence to face him. “What is it?”

Sam took a breath. “She loves your portraits. I want to commission one of her.”

Immediately, his sea-tones palette came to mind as he imagined capturing Liv’s eyes, his autumnal shades tracing the shiny tendrils of her hair.I would love that.

“You can take the commission and see what happens,” Samsoothed. “No pressure. It’s just you and Liv, like always. And if something happens, well.” He shrugged, then put on a singsong voice. “Bo-nus.”

Arran smiled. He’d finally get to do what he’d been daydreaming about: paint the gorgeous loveliness that was Olivia Agnes Holland.

—

Picking up Jayce’s copy ofThe Gruffalo, Arran got him settled in his bed and began to read.

He looked up when Jayce didn’t join in as usual. “What’s up, buddy?”

Jayce blinked. “I want Lib.”

A cavern of ice opened up in his chest.You and me both.“I know,” he told his son in a soothing tone.

“Lib does the voices,” Jayce said, gesturing at the book.

Arran raised his eyebrows as if affronted. “Are you saying Daddy isn’t as good at the voices?”

Jayce looked at him silently, casting his preschooler judgment.

Arran let out a breath. “Wow. That cuts me deep, little dude.”

He began reading again, this time channeling his inner Liv and trying to do the different voices for all the characters. Jayce seemed a bit happier with his efforts, but Arran knew it was a poor substitute for Liv.

When the book was finished, Arran kissed his son’s soft curls, pausing for a second to breathe him in.

He said good night and left the room, leaning against the door as he paused on the upstairs landing. Liv had infiltrated their lives over the past year, filling in all the gaps that needed filling. As much as Arran had said he’d wanted to avoid commitment, he hadn’t even noticed that he’d been making a big commitment with his close friend, and she’d done the same with Jayce.

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