The Fiancée He Can't Forget

Florence was with Jane and Peter at another table, and he winked at her and she winked back, her little face screwing up as she tried to shut just one eye. It made him laugh, in an odd, detached way.

And then finally the food was eaten, the champagne glasses were filled and it was time for the speeches.

Amy didn’t want to listen to his speech, but she had little choice. None, in fact, but she loved Daisy and she’d grown increasingly fond of Ben, and this was their wedding and she wanted to be here for it. And Matt wasn’t going to spoil it for her, she told herself firmly as Daisy’s father got to his feet.

He welcomed Ben to their family with a warmth in his voice that made Daisy cry, then Ben gave a funny, tender and rather endearing speech about Daisy and the change she’d made to his life, thanked everyone for coming to share their day, and then with a grin at Matt he said, ‘Now, before I hand you over to my clone for the ritual character assassination I’m sure I’ve got coming, I’d like you to raise your glasses to two very special and beautiful women. One is my wife’s dearest friend, Amy, and the other is my precious daughter, Florence. I know Daisy’s appreciated their support and their help in giving us such a wonderful day to enjoy together. Amy particularly has worked absolutely tirelessly on the arrangements, and I think she’s done a brilliant job. And Florence has painstakingly decorated and filled the little favour boxes for you all, so we hope you enjoy them. Ladies and gentlemen, the bridesmaids!’

She was grateful to little Florence, who was kneeling up on her chair giggling and attracting all the eyes in the room, because it meant fewer people were looking at her while she struggled with her prickling eyes and the rising tide of colour on her cheeks.

And then it was Matt’s turn, and he was smiling engagingly at everyone as if he did this kind of thing all the time. He probably did, she thought. He’d always had a way with words.

‘You’ll have to forgive my deluded brother,’ he began drily. ‘Being the firstborn just makes him the prototype, and we all know they need refining, but I’m very pleased to be here today because after thirty-four years of arguments, black eyes, mind-blowingly foolish stunts and some underhanded, downright cheating, it’s been settled. I am officially the best man, and now we can move on with our lives!’

There was a ripple of laughter round the room, but then he went on, ‘On the subject of twins, we didn’t get to bed very early last night. Ben, Daisy and I ended up delivering two rather special babies shortly before midnight, and I found myself wondering, will those little girls have as much fun growing up as we did? Because it wasn’t all fights. I always had a friend, a playmate, someone to lean on. Someone to swap with. We did that quite a lot—in fact, Daisy, are you sure that’s Ben? You wouldn’t be the first person to fall for it. I think Jenny Wainwright’s still confused.’

‘No, I’m quite sure, he’s much more good-looking!’ Daisy said, laughing and hugging Ben.

It sounded silly, but Amy absolutely understood how she felt. The similarities were obvious. The differences were more subtle but they were definitely there, not only in their looks but in their characters, and her reaction to them was utterly different.

Ben could talk to her and she just heard his words. Matt talked, and her soul seemed to tune into his—but right now, she didn’t need that spiritual connection that seemed to call to every cell in her body. She didn’t need to feel the rich tones of his deep, warm voice swirling round her, that slight Yorkshire accent teasing at her senses, and with an effort she made herself listen to what he was saying.

She was glad she did. He was very, very funny, but also very moving. He told tales of their childhood escapades, but also their closeness, their enduring friendship, and finally he wound up, and she felt her heart hammer because she knew—she just knew—he was going to look at her and she was going to have to smile.

‘Now, my job—as the best man,’ he added with a grin, ‘is to thank Ben for his kind remarks about Daisy’s beautiful bridesmaids, and I have to say he’s right, Florence is the cutest little bridesmaid I’ve ever seen. And as for Amy …’ He turned to face her, as she’d known he would, and his smile twisted a little. ‘Well, it’s my duty and privilege to escort this beautiful woman for the rest of the day, so sorry, guys, you’ll have to find someone else to dance with. She’s all mine. There have to be some perks to the job.’

Amy tried to smile as he tilted his glass to her, drained it and sat down to cheers and applause, but it was a feeble attempt.

She was dreading the rest of the party. She would have to dance with him, and there was no getting out of it. As chief bridesmaid and best man, that was their role, but the irony wasn’t lost on her.

As far as she was concerned, Matt wasn’t the best man—he was the only man.

And when the chips were down, when she’d needed him most, he’d walked away.

‘Good wedding—the hotel have looked after you well. It’s a great venue.’

Ben smiled. ‘Isn’t it? We were really lucky to get it at such short notice. Good speech, by the way. Thank you.’

Matt frowned slightly, feeling another stab of guilt. ‘Don’t thank me. I wasn’t there for you last time. I should have been.’

‘No. You were absolutely right at the time, neither of us should have been there. I shouldn’t have married Jane, and you weren’t exactly in the right place to worry about me. You had enough going on with Amy. Matt, are you really OK with this?’

Matt met Ben’s eyes briefly and looked away. ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

‘Amy’s not.’

‘I know.’

‘She still loves you.’

He snorted rudely and drained his glass. ‘Hardly. I think she’s finding it a little awkward, that’s all. She’ll be fine.’

Or she would as long as he kept avoiding her.

Ben made a soft, disbelieving noise and caught Daisy’s eye. He nodded and looked back at Matt, his eyes seeing far too much for comfort. ‘We’re going to cut the cake now, and then have the first dance. And then—’

‘I know.’ He pretended to straighten Ben’s cravat. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t renege on my duties.’

‘I wasn’t suggesting you would. I was just going to say be kind to Amy.’

He looked up at Ben again, his older brother by mere moments, and laughed. ‘What—like she was kind to me?’

‘She was hurting.’

‘And I wasn’t?’ He gave a harsh sigh and rammed a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be good. You go and cut your cake and have your dance, and I’ll play my part. I won’t let you down.’

‘It’s not me I’m worried about,’ Ben muttered, but Matt pushed him towards his wife and turned away. He didn’t need to scan the room for Amy. His radar hadn’t let him down. She was right there, by the French doors out onto the terrace, talking to two women that he didn’t recognise.

One was visibly pregnant, the other had a baby in her arms, and for a moment his heart squeezed with pain. Ahh, Amy …

She could feel him watching her, the little hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention.

He was getting closer, she knew it. She’d managed to avoid him up to now, and she’d known it was too good to last.

‘Excuse me, Amy—they’re going to cut the cake and then have the first dance.’

And then it would be time for the second dance, the one she’d been dreading, and she’d have to dance with him and look—well, civilised would be a good thing to try for, she thought as she turned round to face him.

‘OK. I’ll come over. Give me a moment.’

She turned back to Katie and Laura, and after a second she felt him move away, and her shoulders sagged a fraction.

‘Amy, are you all right, honey?’ Katie asked, juggling the baby with one arm so she could hug her.

She returned the hug briefly and straightened up, easing away. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Well, you don’t look fine,’ Laura said, her eyes narrowing. ‘Are you sick? You’re awfully pale.’

‘I’m just tired. It’s been a busy week. I’d better go.’

She left them, letting out a soft sigh as she walked away. She’d never told them about Matt, and she’d asked Daisy not to discuss it. The fewer people at the wedding who knew they had history, the better. It was hard enough facing his mother, who’d given her a swift, gentle hug and patted her back as if she was soothing a child.

She’d nearly cried. She’d loved Liz. She’d been endlessly kind to her, incredibly welcoming, and she hadn’t seen her since—

‘Amy, we’re going to—Gosh, sweetheart, are you all right?’

Daisy’s face was puckered with concern, and Amy rolled her eyes.

‘Daisy, don’t fuss, I’m just tired. We didn’t go to bed till nearly one and the cat was walking all over me all night. And we’ve been up for hours, if you remember.’