Page 88 of The Wedding Engagement

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 shewasfine. 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.”

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