The Fiancé He Can't Forget Read Free

the hug briefly and straightened up, easing away. ‘I’m fine.’
    â€˜Well, you don’t look fine,’ Laura said, her eyes narrowing. ‘Are you sick? You’re awfully pale.’
    â€˜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—
    â€˜Amy, we’re going to— Gosh, sweetheart, are you all right?’
    Daisy’s face was puckered with concern, and Amy rolled her eyes.
    â€˜Daisy, don’t fuss, I’m just tired. We didn’t go to bedtill nearly one and the cat was walking all over me all night. And we’ve been up for hours, if you remember.’
    â€˜I know. I just—’
    â€˜I’m fine,’ she said firmly. ‘Matt said you’re going to cut the cake.’
    â€˜We are. Amy, are you sure you can do this? If you want to leave—’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜They are,’ she said, her voice a little ragged. ‘They’re wonderful together.’
    â€˜She’s very fond of you.’
    â€˜It’s mutual. She’s lovely. She’s been through a lot, and she’s been a really good friend to me.’
    â€˜Which is why you’re here, when you’d rather be almost anywhere else in the world.’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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