The Secret Art of Forgiveness Read Free Page B

best way to keep things on a stable footing. ‘Emails work. It takes the emotion out.’
    â€˜You’ve never mentioned any emails, either.’
    â€˜No? Well there haven’t been many… just change of contact numbers, Christmas newsletters, that kind of thing. It’s just the way things are.’ Thousands of miles and many years had left a chasm that a quick phone call – or even a succession of calls – couldn’t fill. They just weren’t like his family; they didn’t do the happy, thick-as-thieves, shared jokes thing. At least, she wasn’t part of it if they did. And now her ugly past was spoiling her lovely present. She dug deep and infused her voice with the excitement of earlier. ‘Hey, but we could phone your folks now? Shall we?’
    He, too, found another smile and, God love him, took the hint and moved on from the tricky subject of her difficult family ties. ‘I think Dad might be out of town tonight; he said something about a conference in Philadelphia. I’d like to call when they’re together. I know… we could drive up and see them this weekend?’
    â€˜Okay. Yes. Why not? A weekend in Boston sounds lovely.’
    â€˜In the meantime…’ His fingers tiptoed up her arm and tickled the back of her neck. ‘I have ideas about how we could celebrate. Lots and lots…’ His breath fanned over her cheek andshe leaned into his broad frame. Then he jolted back. ‘Shoot. Wait… That’s my phone beeping… I’ll leave it.’
    â€˜No, take it. It’s fine, really.’
    He grabbed his cell, then frowned. ‘Steve Lyons. Better Beer.’
    â€˜Take it. Don’t worry, seriously.’
    â€˜No. We said no work.’ But his eyes lingered over the phone and she knew he wouldn’t settle until he’d talked to his client; he was already starting to look twitchy.
    â€˜Since when would we ever really consider that? Work’s in our DNA.’
    â€˜Which is why we’re perfect together.’
    â€˜Absolutely.’ She nodded towards the phone. ‘So… take it before he hangs up.’
    â€˜Thanks, babe. You’re the best. It’ll only take a minute.’ He turned away slightly and she took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself. She was getting married.
    Married!
    Living together. Sharing her space, her life. Forever.
    â€˜Ah, sorry, man. I got held up… Can you hold a sec?’ Brett covered the handset. ‘I was supposed to meet him at six-thirty to go over the campaign. It completely skipped my mind. He’s at the office.’
    â€˜Go. Go. It’s fine.’
    â€˜No. I’ll postpone.’ He looked genuinely deflated.
    Em laughed, because it was so unusual to see Brett flustered. ‘Aren’t you rolling out the campaign next week, in time for the international beer festival?’
    â€˜I can meet him tomorrow, if I shuffle some appointments around.’
    â€˜Won’t that look unprofessional? Go. It’s fine.’
    â€˜Sure?’ He spoke to his client then put his phone back into his pocket. ‘Not exactly the way I’d been planning to celebrate our engagement. I’m sorry, babe. It’ll be a late one; you know what he’s like. Branding, bonding and, of course, lots of beer. I could come round after… no. No, second thoughts I probably shouldn’t. I don’t know what state I’ll be in.’
    â€˜Look, it’s not a problem. But you’re right, it’s probably best if you stay at yours. I have an early start tomorrow.’ There was a brief flutter of relief in her chest coupled with a strange feeling in the pit of Emily’s stomach. The sand of her life was shifting. Space to think things through was probably a good call.
    He had a sheepish grin as he squeezed her hand. ‘I’m sorry. I wanted tonight to be special.’
    â€˜It is. This…’ she