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