The Fiancée He Can't Forget

‘I hope not, I want him here!’ Daisy glanced down at Florence, fizzing silently on the end of Amy’s arm, on her very best behaviour. She looked like a fairy in her pretty little dress and she was so excited Amy thought she was going to pop.

‘OK, darling?’ Daisy asked.

Florence nodded, her eyes like saucers, and for a second she looked so like Ben—so like Matt—that Amy’s heart squeezed painfully with the ache of loss.

‘Let’s go then,’ Daisy said, stooping to kiss her about-to-be stepdaughter, and with a quick, supportive hug for Amy that nearly unravelled her, she turned and took her father’s arm.

As they gave the signal for the processional music, Amy sucked in a deep, slow breath.

You can do this, she told herself desperately. Ignore him. Just keep your eyes on Daisy’s back, and you’ll be fine.

And then with Florence at her side, she fell in behind them, her eyes glued on Daisy as they walked slowly down between the rows of guests to where Ben was waiting.

Ben, and Matt.

Don’t look …

Matt’s hair was slightly longer than his twin’s, more tousled, the dark, silky strands so familiar that her fingers still remembered the feel of them. His back was ramrod straight, his shoulders broad, square, uncompromising.

She shouldn’t have looked. She should have kept her eyes on Daisy, but they wouldn’t obey her and her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he’d hear it.

Please don’t turn round …

He didn’t move a muscle.

He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her there, getting closer. She was behind him, over his left shoulder, and there was no way he was turning round to look. Just getting through the ceremony was going to be hard enough, without making it harder by rubbing salt into the wound her presence here had ripped wide open.

Not that it had ever really healed.

Ben’s hand brushed his, their fingers tangling and gripping for a second in a quick, wordless exchange.

You OK?

Sure. You?

Never better, and you’re lying, but thanks for being here.

You’re welcome. Wouldn’t have it any other way.

Out of the corner of his eye Matt saw Daisy draw level with Ben, saw him reach out to her. He could feel their love like a halo around them, the huge depth of caring and emotion threatening to swamp him. The sort of love he’d felt for Amy …

Hang on in there. You can do it. It won’t take long.

He heard Ben murmur something to Daisy, heard her murmur back, but he had no idea what they said. All his senses were trained on the woman standing behind Daisy. He could hear the rustle of her dress, feel the tension radiating off her, smell the slight drift of her achingly familiar perfume.

How could he be so aware of her? He closed his eyes, taking a moment to calm his thoughts, to settle it all down, to get the lid back on the box. There. He was fine. He could do this.

The ceremony began, and then it was his turn. All he had to do was to take the rings from his pocket and hand them over. Which meant he had to move, to turn—not far, but just far enough to see—

Amy …

The lid blew off the box with the force of an explosion, and he dropped the rings in Ben’s outstretched hand and stepped sharply back to his place, his emotions reeling.

He had to concentrate on Ben and Daisy. This was their day, and he and Amy were in the past. Gone.

But not, apparently, forgotten.

Not by a long way.

The ceremony was interminable.

Her whole body was shaking and she was finding it really hard to concentrate on anything but Matt. Crazy, since she worked with Ben almost every day and they were scarily alike. The most identical of identical twins, with one huge difference—she loved Matt with all her broken, guarded heart, and today was the first time she’d had to face him in four years—

Don’t go there!

She felt Florence wriggle at the end of her arm, and glanced down.

‘You’s squeezing me!’ she whispered, and she realised she had a death grip on the little girl’s hand. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed, wincing, but Florence smiled up at her and patted her hand.

‘‘S OK, Amy, I know you’s scared,’ she replied in a stage whisper that made several of the guests smile, and in the row beside her Amy heard Florence’s mother give a quiet, despairing chuckle.

But then the ceremony was over, and Ben was kissing Daisy while everyone clapped and cheered, and Florence wriggled out of Amy’s loosened grip and ran to them. Laughing, Ben scooped her up and kissed her, too, and as Amy watched Matt turned slowly towards her and their eyes met and locked.

Time stopped. She felt the room start to swim, and she dragged in a quick breath, then another. Matt frowned, then moved swiftly, his fingers gripping her elbow. ‘Are you all right?’ he murmured, his voice low, gruff and painfully familiar.

She swayed against him. All right? Not in a million years, but she wasn’t telling him that. She straightened up.

‘I’m fine. Low blood sugar,’ she lied, and with a slight frown he let her go. Not that it made any difference. The skin of her arm was tingling from the touch of his fingers, her highly sensitised flesh branded by each one.

‘We have to sign the register,’ he said, and she nodded. They did. They should have done it years ago, but not like this. Not as witnesses …

‘OK now?’

‘Fine,’ she said shortly, and took that vital and symbolic step away from him before she gave into the urge to turn her face into his chest and howl.

He thought it would never end.

The smiling, the greeting of old friends and family, the meeting of new people. And of course there were people there who’d known Amy. People who should have been at their wedding.

‘Isn’t that …?’

‘Yes—small world, isn’t it? She and Daisy are old friends. How are you? It’s good to see you again …’

And on, and on, until he was ready to scream.

He drank rather more than was sensible, considering he had to make a speech, but every time he caught sight of Amy it was as if he’d been drenched in iced water and he felt stone cold sober. They sat down to eat at last, strung out in a line with Ben and Daisy and two sets of parents between them, and he was glad that his brother and his new sister-in-law had opted for a long top table instead of a round one.

Or maybe that was why they had, thinking ahead to this moment.