‘I don’t have his contact details.’
She could get them, though, couldn’t she? Greg must have known how to make contact with the elusive photographer.
Greg…
‘Oh,putain…’ she swore under her breath.
Tilly’s eyebrows rose sharply. ‘Ça va pas? What’s wrong?’
‘Greg’s due to be discharged from hospital today,’ Sophie explained. ‘And I said I’d collect him.’ She grabbed her phone and opened her contacts. ‘I hope I’m not too late.’
Greg sounded remarkably cheerful as he picked up the call almost instantly. ‘Sophie… how are you, lassie?’
‘That’s what I rang to ask you,’ she said. ‘Where are you and do you need me to come and get you?’
‘No. My son’s here. Liam. He flew out from Scotland yesterday. We’ve been talking nonstop since he arrived.’
‘Are you still being discharged today? Are you okay?’
‘Aye… they’re sending me home. They’re packing up the suitcase full of pills I’ve got to take from now on. And I’m feeling like a new man. I just have to take it easy for a while.’ His sigh was audible. ‘If I can change my diet, limit my alcohol and reduce stress levels I might live another twenty years.’ His huff of laughter wasn’t amused. ‘But will it be worth it?’
‘Of course it will,’ Sophie chided gently.
‘I’ve seen what’s going on online,’ Greg said. ‘My word… you couldn’t ever afford to buy that much publicity, could you? Are you getting a flood of enquiries?’
‘Enough to keep us in business for the next twenty years.’ Sophie tried to sound upbeat. She wasn’t about to give Greg the kind of stress he was supposed to be avoiding right now.
‘I sent a text to Phoenix to thank him for covering for me. I haven’t heard back, though. He’s probably turned his phone off to get away from everyone trying to bookhim. Who the hell gets a following that’s bigger than the population of most countries in Europe?’
‘It’s crazy,’ Sophie agreed. Did Greg not know Luc’s real name? And yet he’d known him well enough to be able to ask for such an enormous favour.
Where had Luc Moreau been for the last ten years? What had he been doing?
Or perhaps the real question was why he’d felt the need to hide his real identity.
‘I’m glad you’ve sent him a thank you,’ Sophie added. ‘It’s something I should have done already myself. Our bride was over the moon at having someone that famous doing her photos.’
‘You can still thank him yourself,’ Greg said. ‘I’m sending you his number as we speak. Say hi to him from me.’
In the split second that Sophie wondered how to admit that she didn’twantLuc’s number, it became too late. She had already seen the text message light up on her phone screen as a notification. A visible link. A bridge between herself and Luc that she had no intention of using.
It was a new connection that she thought she’d managed to walk away from, relatively unscathed, after the wedding, without having it dragging behind her like…
… like what?
An invitation?
A way back?
No… Sophie didn’t want that. Not in a million years.
She had to push the thought away as the concerned tone in Greg’s voice became apparent.
‘Can you cope, do you think?’
Oh, help… what had she missed?
‘With me heading back to Scotland?’ he continued. ‘I have to admit this has shaken me up, lassie. And Liam, too. We both think it’s time for me to head home and spend some time with my grandies. Maybe it’s time to think about retiring.’
