The Fiancée He Can't Forget. Caroline Anderson
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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.
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,