"When I tell someone I love them, I mean it."

Derek's voice broke through my thoughts. "I loved you then, I…" he turned away to watch the fountain. "…I can't hurt you now."

Somehow I got the feeling he had changed his mind about that sentence at the last minute. So what had he started to say?

"Fifteen years of not speaking to me isn't supposed to hurt?" I asked, quietly.

"That was…"

He got interrupted.

"Hi Gorgeous!" Louisa was tottering her way towards us. Her white dress covered in spangles which caught the soft moonlight and made her sparkle like a bauble on a Christmas tree. The dress was evidently expensive, but like her grandfather's building skills, not hugely tasteful. Derek's eyes flicked to mine and I saw a quick amusement in his gaze. He held my attention for a second as if sharing a private joke with me and then, smirking, turned to Louisa.

"What's up?"

She reached him and wound her way into his side.

"You're neglecting me. I don't like being neglected." She pouted. It was actually rather funny and I had to bite my lip trying not to laugh. Derek bent his head to mine. "Behave yourself, princess." He whispered chuckling and I realised I hadn't hidden my amusement as well as I thought I had.

"I will if you will." I retorted, and once again laughter danced in his eyes as he straightened. He caught Louisa's waist with his arm and started to lead her back inside. Reluctantly, I followed.

Despite Roswell's statement that he loved Canada, it also appeared he had a real thing for the English way of life too. Not only had he built his house to (badly) imitate one of the crowning architectural styles of that country, but he had also named one of his reception rooms the 'drawing room'. The name was an abbreviation of 'withdrawing room' and referred to the room people went to after a formal meal. Naturally, it was where he had taken his current guests.

If this had really been fifties England, there would have been bridge tables out and someone would be picking out tunes on the large grand piano in the corner. Lise came to me as we re-entered the room, slipped her arm through mine and on hearing my wry enquiry as to where Miss Marple was, she cheerfully informed me that no one in the house could play a note or play bridge, and she warned me to avoid the alternative offering of Poker as Roswell had a reputation as a card shark.

And with those few words, she made me relax. I sat next to her on a chintz love seat and let the atmosphere soak in.

It was a largely cordial evening, except when Roswell and one of his friend got into a heated debate about racehorses, but the other guests were chatting cheerfully.

Off to one side, the love of my life was playing footsie with the airhead blonde daughter of my boss.

Maybe I needed a new job.

Henrietta came and sat near to her mother and me. Lise asked her a question about the wedding preparations and before long I was drawn into a discussion about floral arrangements, wedding colours and, surprisingly, hymn music. The latter I found I knew quite a bit about, having sung in the choir at my school in Toronto. She was puzzling over the name of a piece of music that she wanted. She hummed a little of the piece and I recognised it, joining in and then giving her the name. Henrietta was very grateful.

"You have a good voice, Casey and a good knowledge of hymn music." Elisabeth said approvingly.

"I used to enjoy singing in my school choir."

"In London?" She asked.

I laughed. "No. Toronto. I didn't do singing in London."
Derek, who I had thought too distracted to be listening to me, raised his head from his conversation with Louisa.

"Liar. What about Clash of the Bands?"

I threw him a 'shut up, Derek' look.

Archie looked up too. "Clash of the Bands???" he said, chuckling. "What's this Casey? Do we have a pop-star in our midst?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Archie. I sang Derek's lame song for a school competition."

"Derek's song?!" Louisa was impressed.

That figured.

"Were you in a band?"

My step-brother smiled. "Oh. You mean D-rock. Just an awesome group that me and a couple of guys set up."

Nice Derek, never heard of modesty?

"Really? OOoh Der! You should sing us something."

I laughed loudly. "No. He really shouldn't."

Derek glared at me, but when he turned back to Louisa, his face was regretful.

"I would hun, but my throat is a bit sore tonight, and I'm commentating on a game in two days time, you don't want me hoarse, do you?"

"Aw sweetie…you want me to fix you some hot lemon?"

Derek grinned. "I'm good. Thanks."

Roswell stood up. "What you need is a large measure of my scotch."

I saw Derek's face pale. I was sure he would find some way to deal with it, but…

"Mr Etheridge." I piped up. "Would you mind if Derek didn't have any alcohol?" Derek stared at me. "Only, we have a lot of work to do on the book and I'd rather he was sober for it."

Mr Etheridge stared at me as though I was insane, but then he turned to Derek.

"What d'ya say Venturi?"

Derek shook his head. "She's right, Roswell. I need to be able to concentrate, besides which my nutritionalist will go mental if she hears I've been drinking scotch. Can't let my body suffer."

"There's nothing wrong with your body, Der." Louisa said.

Excuse me while I vomit.

The conversation turned back to the wedding preparations and then more generally on to people's anecdotes about bad weddings they had been to.

Derek, in turn, told the apparently "amusing" story of Marti throwing up at our parents' wedding.

"Marti's going to love you for sharing that one, D." I said, unconsciously using his nickname.

He shrugged. "It could have been worse. I could be telling everyone about you and the dessert tray."

"Don't you dare!"

"Are you sure?" Derek smirked. Louisa was not enjoying our conversation. It took the emphasis away from her.

"Oh I'm sure. You aren't the only one with anecdotes, Venturi."

Archie grinned. "I'll give you fifty bucks if you tell me later, Derek."

"Deal." The bane of my existence said, laughing.

Elisabeth was watching her daughter pawing Derek. A couple of times I saw my friend bite her lip and I wondered if she was considering saying something. I really hoped not, they were both adults, and it wasn't Louisa's fault that I was still hung up on Derek.

It was her fault that she was stupid.

Roswell was also watching Louisa and he was smiling indulgently.

"So when are you going to settle down, Derek?" her grandfather asked.

There was a pause. It would have been interesting to see how Derek looked, but I couldn't raise my head.

"I am settled."
"With a wife, I mean."

Derek laughed. "I'd make a bad husband. Nah. Women cry too much as it is, why make one even more unhappy?"

Louisa grinned. "You just need the right woman."

Derek snickered. "Yeah. Maybe I do."

She settled back happily beside him, and when I did look up Derek's eyes dropped from where they caught mine to look at hers.


I excused myself quite early. I was tired, having driven quite a way to reach the mansion, but it was more the effort of being in Derek's company which cost me. I slipped into my pyjamas and robe, and settled in bed with a book.

It was the same novel as I had been reading back in London, although I hadn't had time to pick it up since then. When I opened the cover, the photograph of Derek and me fell out.

He really hadn't changed much in fifteen years – except in his attitude towards me. It had never just been about looks, I had fallen for his personality. But the attraction was still there. I wondered if he was actually going to sleep in the room next to mine or whether he would cross the gardens and sneak up to Louisa's bedroom. Or maybe the reverse was true. I closed my eyes at the thought of him having sex in the room next to me.

Jealousy was not an emotion I was allowed to feel.

The photograph ruined my state of mind and I realised I couldn't sleep or read. It was still early so I got up again and went to work in the living room. Derek's door was open and his room in darkness, but I couldn't tell if he had been and gone or had yet to return.

I was curled up on the sofa, a throw around my legs and a couple of chapters on my lap when I heard voices outside the main door to the little house.

"Aw come on, Derek. I know you want to."

"No, Louisa."

"Why not?"

"Firstly, because I hardly know you, secondly because I am a guest of your grandfather and thirdly because, frankly, the idea of trying to screw you with Casey in the next room just makes me want to vomit."

"Why? She's just your lame sister. Didn't you used to have sex when she was in the next room when you lived at home?"

I heard Derek laugh. "No as a matter of fact, I didn't. Casey has a very developed sense of hearing and an even greater sense of prudishness. She'd have been knocking on our parents' bedroom door as fast as you could say coitus interruptus."

"Well your parents aren't here now." She had switched into her bedroom voice.

Ew!

"But my step-sister is. Sorry Louisa. No."

"Not even a little taster?"

God I was so close to vomiting!

Derek chuckled. "You're persistent, aren't you?"

I had suspicions about where her hands were.

"The answer is still no, Louisa. There are other reasons too. Okay? Look, you're beautiful and I'm an ass. But the answer is no."

"For now?" Louisa said, hopefully.

"For now."

She huffed. "Okay. But I don't like it. She has an unhealthy influence over you. Henrietta wouldn't dream of interfering in my life like that."

"It wasn't exactly Casey's choice, Louisa. She didn't want to edit my book, I made her."
"Why?"

"Oh god! Try to explain the relationship I have with Casey?…there aren't enough hours in the day. I've known her for almost twenty years and no one has ever understood the way we are together."

"Well I want you to stay away from her."

This was one spoilt little madam!

"She's staying in the same house as me, Louisa, be realistic."

What the fuck was it to do with her anyway? I guess wanting to get in someone's pants gives you that right. Maybe I should go and join the debate, start demanding that Derek comes to bed RIGHT now…my bed!

I laughed at myself, and pictured the look of horror on Derek's face if I rolled out the passion wagon.

"Outside of the house, I mean." Louisa backtracked.
He snickered. "Don't worry. Casey will stay as far away from me as she can get. She doesn't want to be in the room with someone she hates so much either."

Derek thought I hated him. It was almost laughable in view of my actual feelings.

I could hear him opening the door, so I plugged my ipod into my ears and bent my head over my work. He stopped when he saw me, and involuntarily glanced over his shoulder, no doubt wondering if I had heard their conversation.

When he entered my eye-line I pulled the cables from my ears.

"Working?" he asked, for once with no disdain. I nodded.

"Which bit?"

"The Wedding. Just checking that you'd left the dessert story out."

He laughed softly.

"It was tempting." He said. "But I figured I ought to leave some stories for the sequel."

I stuck my tongue out at him, which made him laugh again.

"Fifteen again?" Derek said, sitting on the sofa beside me.

He picked up some of the discarded pages. "You read it all?" I nodded.

"What did you think?"

I took a deep breath. "It's better. Much better."

"And the bits about us?"

"I'm glad you left my name out of it."

"But, I can leave those chapters in?" he sounded surprised.

I shrugged. "It happened, and I have to say you were faithful…" our eyes met. "…to the story, at least. I was surprised after so long."

"Ask me again in another fifteen years and I'll be faithful…to the story then too."

We were silent.

"I'm sorry." I said.

"For what? Sleeping with your step-brother?" The disdain was back.

I shook his contempt off.

"For the hurt."

He shrugged. "Would you have done things differently?"

I couldn't answer that, it gave too much away. He would know then that I still loved him, and I couldn't face that humiliation. I looked away.

"Nah. I didn't think so." His voice was hard. It jarred with the tone of his earlier words. We sat in an uneasy silence.

"I should go to bed." He said, eventually, his tone still cutting.

"Derek."

"What?" He wouldn't look at me.

"I hurt myself too. More than you'll ever know."

He pulled a face.

"Yeah well, princess. Time heals old wounds and all that bull shit."

"Does it?" I asked honestly.

Then his eyes did meet mine and for a fraction of a second I thought I saw my pain mirrored in his face.

And then the feeling was gone.

"I really need to go to bed." He said, got up and was gone.