‘ARE you OK?’
Was she?
She wasn’t sure. Her heart was pounding, her legs felt like jelly and her stomach was rebelling, but it was Daisy’s wedding day, so Amy dug around and dredged up some kind of a smile.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Sure?’
‘Absolutely!’ she lied, and tried to make the smile look more convincing. She didn’t even need to ask how Daisy was. She was lit up from inside with a serene joy that was radiantly, blindingly obvious. Amy’s smile wavered. She’d felt like that once, lifetimes ago.
She tweaked Daisy’s dress for something to do and stood back. ‘Are you ready?’
Her smile glowed brighter still. ‘Oh, yes,’ Daisy said softly. ‘Do I look OK?’
Amy laughed indulgently and hugged her. ‘You look stunning. Ben will be blown away.’
‘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.