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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.’
‘I know. I just—’
‘I’m fine,’ she said firmly. ‘Matt said you’re going to cut the cake.’
‘We are. Amy, are you sure you can do this? If you want to leave—’
‘I don’t want to leave! It’s your wedding! Go and cut the cake, and we can have champagne and cake and dancing and it’ll be wonderful. Now shoo.’
Amy turned her round and pushed her towards her husband, who held his hand out to her and drew her into his arms for yet another kiss.
‘They do seem genuinely happy together.’
She froze. How had he crept up on her? She hadn’t felt him approaching—maybe because she’d been so intensely aware of him all day that her senses were overloaded.
‘They are,’ she said, her voice a little ragged. ‘They’re wonderful together.’
‘She’s very fond of you.’
‘It’s mutual. She’s lovely. She’s been through a lot, and she’s been a really good friend to me.’
‘Which is why you’re here, when you’d rather be almost anywhere else in the world.’
‘Speak for yourself.’
He gave a soft huff of laughter, teasing the hair on the back of her neck. ‘I was,’ he answered, and despite the laugh, his voice had a hollow ring to it. ‘Still, needs must. Right, here we go. I think Ben’s going to make a bit of a speech to welcome the evening guests before they cut the cake.’
He was still standing behind her, slightly to one side, and she could feel his breath against her bare shoulder, feel the warmth radiating from his big, solid body.
The temptation to lean back into him—to rest her head against his cheek, to feel him curve his hand round her hip and ease her closer as he would have done before—nearly overwhelmed her. Instead, she stepped away slightly, pretending to shift so she could see them better, but in fact she could see perfectly well, and he must have realised that.
She heard him sigh, and for some crazy reason it made her feel sad. Crazy, because it had been him that had left her, walking away just when she needed him the most, so why on earth should she feel sad for him? So he was still alone, according to Ben. So what? So was she. There were worse things than being alone. At least it was safe.
‘Daisy chose the music for our first dance,’ Ben was saying, his smile wry. ‘It has a special meaning for us. While we’re dancing, I’d like you to imagine the moment we met—just about thirty seconds after the kitchen ceiling and half a bath of water came down on my head.’
And with that, they cut the cake, the lights were dimmed and the band started playing ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’.
There was a ripple of laughter and applause, but then they all went quiet as Ben, still smiling, drew Daisy into his arms as if she was the most precious thing he’d ever held.
Damn, Amy thought, sniffing hard, and then a tissue arrived in her hand, on a drift of cologne that brought back so many memories she felt the tears well even faster.
‘OK?’
No, she wasn’t. She was far from OK, she thought crossly, and she wished everyone would stop asking her that.
‘I’m fine.’
He sighed softly. ‘Look, Amy, I know this is awkward, but we just have to get through it for their sakes. I don’t want to do it any more than you do, but it’s not for long.’
Long enough. A second in his arms would be long enough to tear her heart wide open—
The dance was over, the music moved on and without hesitation Matt took her hand, the one with the tissue still clutched firmly in it, led her onto the dance floor and turned her into his arms.
‘Just pretend you don’t hate me,’ he told her, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and she breathed in, needing oxygen, and found nothing but that cologne again.
Holding her was torture.
A duty and a privilege, as he’d said in his speech?
Or just an agonising reminder of all he’d lost?
She had one hand on his shoulder, the other cradled in his left, and his right hand was resting lightly against her waist, so he could feel the slender column of her spine beneath his splayed fingers, the shift of her ribs as she breathed, the flex of the muscles as she moved in time to the music. She felt thinner, he thought. Well, she would. The last time he’d held her, he thought with a wave of sadness, she’d been pregnant with their child.
One dance merged into another, and then another. He eased her closer, and with a sigh that seemed to shudder through her body, she rested her head on his shoulder and yielded to the gentle pressure of his hand. Her thighs brushed his, and he felt heat flicker along his veins. Oh, Amy. He’d never forgotten her, never moved on. Not really.
And as he cradled her against his chest, her pale gold hair soft under his cheek, he realised he’d been treading water for years, just waiting for the moment when he could hold her again.
He sighed, and she felt his warm breath tease her hair, sending tiny shivers running through her like fairies dancing over her skin. It made her feel light-headed again, and she stepped back.
‘I need some air,’ she mumbled, and tried to walk away, but her hand was still firmly wrapped in his, and he followed her, ushering her through the crowd and out of the French doors into the softly lit courtyard. Groups of people were standing around talking quietly, laughing, and she breathed in the cooler air with a sigh of relief.
‘Better?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. Thanks.’
‘Don’t thank me. You look white as a sheet. Have you eaten today?’
‘We just had a meal.’
‘And you hardly touched it. My guess is you didn’t have lunch, either, and you probably skipped breakfast. No wonder you had low blood sugar earlier. Come on, let’s go and raid the buffet. I didn’t eat much, either, and I’m starving.’
He was right on all counts. She was hungry, and she had skipped lunch, but only because she’d lost her breakfast. She never could eat when she was nervous, and she’d been so, so nervous for the last few days her stomach had been in knots, and this morning it had rebelled. And that dizzy spell could well have been low blood sugar, now she came to think about it.
‘It’s probably not a bad idea,’ she conceded, and let him lead her to the buffet table. She put a little spoonful of something on her plate, and he growled, shoved his plate in her other hand and loaded them both up.
‘I can’t eat all that!’ she protested, but he speared her with a look from those implacable blue eyes and she gave up. He could put it on the plate. Didn’t mean she had to eat it.
‘I’ll help you. Come on, let’s find a quiet corner.’
He scooped up two sets of cutlery, put them in his top pocket, snagged a couple of glasses of wine off a passing waiter and shepherded her across the floor and back out to the courtyard.
‘OK out here, or is it too cold for you in that dress?’
‘It’s lovely. It’s a bit warm in there.’
‘Right. Here, look, there’s a bench.’
He steered her towards it, handed her a glass and sat back, one ankle on the other knee and the plate balanced on his hand while he attacked the food with his fork.
He’d always eaten like that, but that was medicine for you, eating on the run. Maybe he thought they should get it over with and then he could slide off and drink with the boys. Well, if the truth be told he didn’t have to hang around for her.
