“Hey,” I murmured and pressed a kiss just below her ear. “You look gorgeous.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said and twisted in my arms to peer up at me. “Wow, you look—”

“Ridiculous?” I provided.

She shook her head and blushed a little. “No, strangely sexy.” Pausing to run her hands down the silky fabric, she bit her lip and asked, “Is this rented?”

I nodded.

“Damn. I just had a little fantasy of you wearing it at home tonight with nothing else.”

I smirked and bent to take her earlobe in my mouth. “Dirty. I like it.”

She giggled then sighed when my hand moved over her stomach. I was seriously considering the logistics of a quickie, but then reminded myself there were too many people around. As much as I enjoyed having sex in public places, now wasn’t the time.

With a reluctant sigh I let her go and asked, “Is Alfie coming today?”

She smacked her hand to her forehead. “Oh right, I forgot to tell you. He and Jamie finally went on their cruise. They left for their flight early this morning.”

“The cruise they’ve been planning for the last few months? I honestly thought that was never going to happen.”

She bobbed her head. “Me too. I think they kept putting it off because Alfie’s fear of flying was getting to him. He sent a text a little while ago saying they landed safely, so he obviously got over it enough to endure the flight. At least he doesn’t have a fear of water, too. If he did we’d be waiting until 2020 for him to finally bite the bullet.”

“Well, I’m glad they went. They both deserve a break.”

In spite of offering for him to come and live at the new flat, Alfie had surprised both of us by saying no. He claimed he wanted to try going it alone for once, to be completely independent. If I was honest I thought Andrea was more stressed out about the separation than Alfie was. She loved him though, and I understood her worry because I knew exactly how she felt. I knew what it was like to be fiercely protective of your family.

We shared a look of mutual understanding before there was an announcement over the intercom that proceedings would begin in five minutes. I kissed her and then we both made our way to the function hall.

I took my place next to Kian in the second row from the stage as the ceremony started up. When they called my name I stood and went to collect my certificate. Of course, as soon as I stepped onto the stage my brothers had to make a big song and dance by cheering for me like Arsenal just won the Premiership.

“Go Stu!” Liam shouted.

“Work it, you sexy beast.” This was Trevor. Course it was. Half the people in the audience started laughing. Lee let out a rip-roaring whistle, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. Bunch of nutters, but I wouldn’t change them for the world. I looked out and saw Sophie and Karla sitting next to them, both shaking their heads in dismay.

I got my diploma, shook hands with the dean of the college, then continued to the other side of the stage. Looking out, I saw Andrea standing next to the other students who hadn’t been called yet. As she looked up at me, it reminded me of the first time I saw her face. I’d been gobsmacked. Her expression was one of shock, yet she’d warmly accepted me into her classroom as if seeing a git like me was an everyday occurrence. God, she’d surprised me. Sweet, strong, passionate, real. They were the first four things I thought about her. How any male concentrated in her classes was beyond me. And as she spoke to me, with kindness and encouragement, I realised I had never met anyone like Andrea Anderson before. She was incredible. Now, her gorgeous brown eyes flicked up and she caught me looking. I grinned and held up my piece of paper. She beamed back at me.

Love you, I mouthed. I couldn’t have done it without her, none of us could have. She was the most selfless and amazing woman I’d ever known. I’d do anything for her, and I’d spend the rest of my life doing right by her because she’d saved me.

Her smile lit up her whole face, and I could tell even from a distance that she was proud of me. In my gut I felt like the luckiest bastard in the world to be on the receiving end of a look like that.

She glanced across the space that separated us, her expression fierce and full of affection when she mouthed back, Love you, too.

And thank fuck for that.

Epilogue

Boston, Massachusetts (Not the Aegean)

Harry Shields showed up for the night shift, regular as clockwork. He greeted his co-worker, Jerry, like usual and they completed the switchover. When Harry went to start his rounds of the museum, all was quiet. It was always quiet. The presence of so many magnificent works of art seemed to warrant the respect of silence. They hung on the walls as though in slumber, until the sun rose and it was time to be looked at by new eyes.

Harry might’ve just been an average Joe security guard, but he also liked to think of himself as an art lover. He passed through the Blue room, where one of his favourite paintings was on display, a depiction of a bridge going over the water in Venice by the American artist, John Singer Sargent. Harry had always wanted to visit the Italian city, and he hoped that in a couple years he’d finally have enough saved up to take his family on the trip of a lifetime.

“One day, Venezia, one day I’ll see you for real,” he muttered to no one in particular. He had a tendency to talk to himself. Sometimes he spoke to the paintings, or even the artists themselves, though he’d never admit it if asked.

How’s it going, Raphael? Long time no see.

Working the night shift alone for the past five years had caused him to develop a few . . . eccentricities. Yep, it was just a typical night at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.

Well, that was until he heard an odd scratching noise as he approached the Dutch room. Quickly, he pulled out his flashlight. He shone it around the space, searching for the source of the noise, but it had gone quiet again. Wondering if an animal had found their way in, a wild cat or a fox maybe, he did a brief inspection of the room but everything seemed to be in order. Just a bunch of paintings in frames. He clicked off his flashlight, then stilled. Not all the frames should have paintings. The infamous frame of The Storm on the Sea of Galilee had sat empty for over twenty-five years, ever since it was stolen alongside a number of other valuable items on that faithful night in March, 1990. He turned his flashlight back on.