To Love Honour and Disobey

He’d been going to come here anyway—whether he’d had the message or not he knew full well it was Phil and Jack’s favourite haunt and that if they were going to take her anywhere, it’d be here. He’d just wanted to see her. Now he had.

‘Are you going to join us for dinner?’ Phil asked. ‘We’re just waiting on a table at the Thai place across the road.’

Seb couldn’t stop staring after Ana. ‘I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.’

‘Thought you said you were friends. I’m sure Ana won’t mind.’

Yeah. That was what he was afraid of. That she didn’t care enough to mind. But he couldn’t resist staying, could he? ‘OK.’

Fairy Godfather Phil—that was what he wanted to be. Ana glared at her friend. It was better than having to spend any more time looking across the table at Seb. Because seeing him made something twist inside her. For once it wasn’t his gorgeousness heating her belly. If anything he looked less than his usual immaculate male-model self. He looked tired around the eyes, maybe even thinner. And it was that causing the discomfort inside her.

She abandoned her dinner. Noticed he’d stopped eating too. She couldn’t resist prying just a little. ‘You’re not with your dad tonight?’

‘He’s not having a stag do if that’s what you mean.’

‘What time is the wedding?’

He shrugged, his brow wrinkling. She wanted to smooth it. His eyes, in just that second, looked so unhappy. Sure he was laughing with Phil and Jack, sure he was making the effort. But that was what she sensed—the effort it was taking him. Clearly the whole wedding thing was cutting him up. The ridiculous urge to comfort him flooded her—she wanted to hold him and make him laugh. Make him carefree again.

Careless.

Where had the fun-loving Seb gone?

As the evening progressed the urge to reach out to him only grew. She’d thought she could handle it. She really had. At last they headed back to Phil and Jack’s—running the few streets in the drizzle. Phil and Jack took the mickey about her shoes and Seb’s smile flashed in the dark as she ran faster than all of them just to prove herself.

The guys insisted Seb stop for another drink before going on to his apartment. Phil opened his whisky and the three parked in the lounge. Ana tried to join in—fixed herself a hot chocolate and acted as if none of it were a problem. But in the end all she could do was run away.

She lay in bed and listened to the deep voices. The laughter resonated up the wooden stairs. But in her mind’s eye she saw him with that pain in his expression. It had been a mere flash but she knew it went deep. She sighed. What was she doing caring?

She finally slept—waking to hear Jack remonstrating with Phil, telling him to hurry up. She glanced at her watch—after ten already. The boys were off to Manchester for a couple of days to see Jack’s family and they had a long drive ahead of them.

She pulled on jeans and a tee. Wandered down and grinned at Phil’s greenish tinge and dark glasses. ‘Late night?’

‘Early morning,’ he grumbled.

She walked him to the door. Jack was wrestling with an oversize suitcase, trying to jam it, and the other twenty bags, into the boot of his car, muttering about the amount of stuff Phil insisted on taking with him.

Phil sighed. ‘He loves my high-maintenance tendencies, really.’

‘Of course he does.’ Phil was exceptionally high maintenance but he was also such fun. ‘Have a great time.’

Phil turned back and took her wrist. Usually his face was lit with laughter but now he was serious. ‘Don’t run away again.’

She hadn’t contacted him during the time she’d hidden away down south. He hadn’t told her off, had never pried—not about that. Just opened his door, taken one look and let her in. So she owed him now and gave a promise she was determined to keep. ‘I won’t.’

The sparkle in his eye rekindled—sly this time. ‘Are you going to go wake Sleeping Beauty?’

‘I suppose,’ she said darkly.

‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.’

Well, that gave her a hell of a lot of leeway, didn’t it? He winked and she waved. She walked back into the apartment and glanced at the immobile log still sound asleep on the sofa, then at the empty bottles on the table. Clearly a very early morning for them all.

In the kitchen she got the espresso machine working. Made it so strong it was like thick brown goo dripping into the cup. She lifted the cup and wandered back through to the lounge. Held the steaming brew under his nose.

‘Wake up, Seb.’

One eye opened and quickly shut again. ‘I’m dreaming.’