Read sample The groom that got away | A flirty Second Chance Romantic Comedy

Chapter One

This time, everything will be perfect.

April Leigh laid out swatches of slippery silk and gleaming duchess-satin on the smooth wooden worktop. The wedding dress sketch she’d worked on tirelessly over the past week was propped up on the wooden easel, and the rest of her collection had been tidied onto the hanging rails opposite the full-length windows that bled light into her studio space. Now all she needed was the bride.

She pushed back the sleeve of her heavy black sweater and checked her wafer-thin black watch. June should be here. Rising from her chair, she refilled her coffee cup and gazed from the window onto the bustling street below. The intercom buzzed.

“It’s me!”

“Come on up.” Warmth filled April at the thought of seeing her sister again. It had been too long.

She swung the door open wide, heart pounding as the elevator juddered to a halt. Her sister’s form was visible through the cage, and as April stepped forward, June slid the door sideways, compressing it into a metal lattice pleat.

“Hey, you.” Instantly they were in each other’s arms, June’s familiar feel and smell jerking April back in time. Even when she was a teenager June had never been too cool to shown affection for her younger sister. Her open and outgoing nature hadn’t ever been constrained or dented—by anything. She’d even risen above the event that would have crushed a lesser woman.

She was April’s hero.

Now, at last, she’d have her happy ever after. The fact she’d asked April to contribute to her special day was the cherry-on-top.

“Come on in.”

“Wow, this place is amazing.” June gazed around the huge room.

June still lived in Ireland. This was the first time she’d visited the new London apartment April had moved into once she left college.

“Well, it’s a lot better than the last place. The bedsit was so tiny I couldn’t actually have more than one person in it at a time, unless they wanted to stand on the coffee table. It’s close to work too.” April grinned. Her place of work, The Coffee Haven, was directly below her apartment. Working there was pretty much the perfect job—anything to do with coffee had to be a perfect job to a caffeine addict. When her boss, Elizabeth, had confided she was moving from the large open-plan studio apartment and moving to the suburbs, it felt as though the planets had aligned perfectly.

Elizabeth had been delighted to find a tenant she knew and trusted, and April’s boss had become her landlady.

“It’s mostly one big room, with a small bedroom and bathroom at the end.” April waved an arm around. “When Elizabeth lived here, she had more furniture, and this was the open-plan sitting room and kitchen. I shifted the sofa closer to the fireplace, and filled the rest of the space with my … ”

June looked around. “Your work stuff.”

“Yes.” Everything had its place. A large table held her sewing machine. Her computer sat in the middle of the desk in the corner. Bolts of material were stacked on shelves. There was even a stand holding all of her threads, sequins and beads, carefully placed in the perfect position so she could grab them in a flash.

The apartment could do with some homey touches, some throws or rugs to soften the acres of wooden floor but those would come in time.

Right now, her meager funds were stretched to the limit paying the rent and keeping the lights on. All she needed was a place to work. And with its floor to ceiling expanse of glass letting in lots of natural light, this place was pretty darned perfect.

“You didn’t get lost on the tube?”

June grinned. “Not with these directions. That was the longest text I’ve ever seen in my life. Your fingertips must have melted.”

“I typed it a while ago. I have it saved in drafts.” The route to her apartment on the outskirts of London was a fairly direct one, with only a couple of changes of train on the underground, but to make it easy she’d written out step-by-step instructions to text to the terminally disorganized.

April eyed June’s bag. “What have you brought?”

“Pictures.” She put the bag on the coffee table. “More wedding magazines.”

The rails holding dresses caught June’s attention. “Wow, these are great, is this it?”

“Yup.” No-one had seen the new collection yet. Having her sister examine the designs for her very first fashion show set a flutter of butterflies loose in April’s stomach.

“All black?” June’s fingers flicked through the dresses.

“All black,” April confirmed. “But I’ve used a variety of different fabrics in each one.”

June pulled one of the dresses from the rack. “Oh, I see what you mean. This one is gorgeous. I love the way you’ve done the inlay at the front.” The black damask dress had a panel of sheer black sewn in which would reveal the wearer’s cleavage. “It’s tiny.” She held it up against her figure.

“All the designers are using the same models. They’re all slender and tall.”

“So when is the show, and can I come?”

“It’s on the 24^th of March.” April squeezed her hands together into fists, then stretched her fingers out again. “I have the collection made, but I still have to decide on their hair, makeup and accessories.”

June patted her back. “You’ll be fine. You’re always so well organized. Look at you, you’ve already made all the dresses! How many designers are showing a collection?”

“There are four of us. I couldn’t believe it when they asked me to join them, the other three are all established, and I’ve only just qualified.”

“Your work is fantastic. I’m convinced you’re going to be a big star. This is just the beginning, next year you’ll be at London Fashion week, and in all the newspapers. I’m so proud of you, April. And just think—I’m going to be your very first bride!”

April swallowed. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Out with it, then.” June flicked back her long blonde hair.

“I wanted to ask you if you’d wear your wedding dress on the catwalk.” The image of June wearing a beautiful ivory wedding dress as the finale of April’s show had come to her in a dream. Having a totally black collection was edgy and unusual, and one perfect white wedding dress at the end would be a perfect counterpoint.

“I … ” June’s eyes widened. “I’d love to!” She hugged April close, then pulled back. “But won’t I look huge? I’m no waif.”

“You’ll look beautiful.” Encased in a dress made for her, with her blonde long hair pinned up and accessorized with pearl clips, June would make the perfect bride. “Come and look at the design I’ve drawn for the dress.”

June had very specific ideas which April had worked into the design. The dress would be A-line, with a sweetheart neckline, and fitted with a natural waist. June’s shoulders were shapely, and she had a killer cleavage, so they’d decided the dress should be strapless.

“I’ve added pearl detailing here on the bodice,” April explained, tracing the drawing with a finger. “And the choice of material will determine if the dress is very formal or floatier, we could attach an overlay in a different fabric if you want.”

She moved to the fabric samples on the table. “This is duchess-satin, which is very lush but also quite thick and stiff. If you want something with more movement, the heavy silk is good.”

June picked up the duchess satin. “I love this. It’s sexy, isn’t it?”

April nodded.

“The color though … ” June frowned.

The samples were both ivory. “You could go with a creamier color, rather than the white, the pearls come in a variety of shades to match.”

June pulled a stack of wedding magazines from her bag. She flicked through one, then stabbed the page with a red-tipped finger. “I was thinking of maybe going with a color, rather than just white. What do you think?”

April blinked. The dresses in the pictures ranged in color from blood red through shades of mocha and coffee, to metallic shades of silver and bronze. She’d never, for one moment, considered that June might want a dress in anything other than virginal white. This wedding was such a miracle; a second chance at happy-ever-after all of them had feared might never happen. She’d thought June would want to do the whole traditional bride thing.

“What color were you thinking?”

“Well the red is a bit over the top, I’m pretty sure Michael’s family would have a complete fit.” She grinned. “The wedding is going to be all over the American society pages. It can’t help but be, with his father in politics. But I love the silver and grey dresses, don’t you?”

June was a woman of the world. The days of a bride wearing a white dress to telegraph her chastity were outdated, but the thought that June had been influenced by her past angered April. “Do you not want to wear white because of—you know … ”

June’s lips pressed together. “Because of the last time I was going to be married?” She walked to the window and stared out. “I didn’t want to wear white then either. And seven years ago, wearing a colored dress would have been scandalous.” She turned back. “And I got to be scandalous before I’d even thought about dresses.”

April walked over and slung an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t the one to call it all off.”

“Yes, but I was the pregnant teenager, wasn’t I?” There was a trace of sadness in her smile. “For a while anyway.”

They hadn’t spoken of June’s previous engagement for years. She’d been barely eighteen when she became pregnant, and once the pregnancy was confirmed, her boyfriend Matthew Logan had proposed. When she’d miscarried in the first month, April had naively presumed they’d go ahead with the wedding anyway. Matthew was a constant visitor to the house, and had seemed devoted to June, even though they were both still at school.

Looking back, it was difficult to tell who was more shocked that he’d run.

“I’m so lucky to have Michael,” June murmured. “I love him more than I ever thought I could love someone.”

June had been wasted on a man who didn’t even have the decency to stick around. April squeezed her lips together. In the seven years since, June had made a new life for herself, and was even being so brave as to trust again. As for Matthew, who knew where he’d ended up?

June pointed at the page. “I like the grey and the silver ones. What do you think?”

The grey wedding dress was undoubtedly beautiful, but the silver … “I love the silver. You’ll look like a princess in silver.” A princess inside and out. April flicked open the brochure of pearls. “And we could use this shade of pearls as accents. I’ll get some samples of different fabrics in silver and grey this week. How long are you and Michael in London for?”

“His parents are flying in on Wednesday and staying for a week then we’re flying to Ireland to introduce them to Mum and then out to Spain to meet Dad and Inez. I hope they all get on. I’m really nervous.”

There was no way Michael’s parents could avoid falling in love with June, just as their son had. April squeezed June’s hand.

June’s eyes clouded. “I know the thought of the wedding has brought back memories for everyone. Mum’s mentioned the past a few times.”

“Does Michael … ” April’s mouth was dry. “Does he know?”

“About Matthew?” June’s smile held a hint of sadness. “Yes, I told him before he proposed. I reckoned someone would tell him at some stage, and it might as well be me.”

“I wonder what happened to Matthew.” The words were out before April’s brain could communicate with her mouth and stop them. “Oh, I’m sorry, I … ”

“Matthew’s living and working in London.” June walked over and poured a cup of coffee.

It was as though a fog had descended. April heard June’s words, but couldn’t make sense of them. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “You’ve kept in contact?”

“Not exactly, but I know where he is.” June turned. Her gaze locked with Aprils. “He’s not a bad man, you know. We were very young. I’m glad we never married. We would have made each other unhappy, sooner or later. Now I have Michael—I’m so happy. I wish Matthew nothing but the best.”

“You can’t possibly mean that.” April crossed her arms. “You’re a very generous person, but he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, never mind your good wishes. I hope I never see him again for as long as I live. Not everyone deserves a second chance.”

An errant memory nagged at her. Years ago, she’d greeted Matthew’s arrival at their house with almost as much enthusiasm as June. Back in school, she’d nursed a crush on her friend Amy’s older brother. The entire Logan clan were so charismatic and good-looking, it was difficult not to. Of course, she’d been a sixteen year old kid—a teenager with a mouthful of braces that made her self-conscious.

In Matthew’s company, her heart sped up and she became totally tongue-tied and awkward. With his intense navy blue eyes, and almost-black hair tumbling across his forehead, he’d been every teenager’s fantasy. She’d tried to hide her attraction, and he’d seemed oblivious to her crush. He’d been kind, been fun. Back then, she’d dreamed of one day finding a man just like him.

“Do you ever see Amy?” It was as though June had zoned in on April’s thoughts.

She shook her head. Their friendship had hit the skids pretty much immediately after their siblings’ relationship. I guess in a warzone you pick a side.

June tilted her head to the side. “Are you seeing anyone?” Her eyebrows rose.

“No. Well, not really.” She’d gone on a couple of dates recently with another barista, or should that be baristo? Joshua was nice, uncomplicated, but didn’t exactly set her on fire. He’d tried, but the lack of chemistry was obvious.

“Might you bring someone to the wedding?”

“Are you kidding? Bringing someone to your wedding would be disastrous. Dad would have me married off before I’d even completed the introductions.”

June sat on the sofa and patted the seat next to her. She had a familiar look on her face, the one that usually meant that she was going to ask a favor April wasn’t going to enjoy giving.

On stiff legs April walked over and sat down.

June placed her soft, manicured hand over April’s clenched hands. “In that case, I need another favor. I want you to look after Matthew at the wedding.”

Matthew Logan breathed in the clear crisp air and looked up into a cloudless sky. Conditions were perfect.

“Thank you all for coming today.” He smiled at the employees who had answered his call for volunteers, all clad in their running gear. It was strange to see them out of their usual suits and professional work wear. “I really appreciate you guys helping us out here, and for bringing your supporters along. Let me explain how this is going to work.”

The abandoned airfield outside London still had its uses, mostly as a training road for learner drivers, but today—today the quiet track had been transformed into a running track for the use of Logan Advertising.

At one end of the looping runway was the start line, and along the route large screens had been set up, which would be visible to the runners as they circuited.

“Everyone has their tags attached to their running shoes, and their recording devices?”

The little group responded with nods and upraised thumbs.

“The purpose of today is not to test the system, we know from the manufacturers it works properly,” Matthew said. “What we need from you guys is feedback about the images you will see as you pass each screen. As you know, this technology has been used in marathons in the past few years, and don’t worry, I’m not expecting anyone here to run a marathon unless they feel like one hell of a workout this morning.” He grinned. “I’m going to do two circuits, because I need the exercise, but I think most people will do one. Susan has programmed the system with each runner’s details. I’ll let her explain the next bit.”

Susan White stepped forward. “Okay, there are two parts to this, the runners … ” The runners cheered. “And the supporters.” The supporters cheered back. “Each runner has a team to keep them going. We’re spreading the supporters out into four groups. Each group is covered by a camera. The RFID devices are triggered as each runner crosses over the mats set up along the route. This passes information on the runners’ positions to central control. As each runner approaches the screen, a personalized message flicks up. They’ll see real-time encouragement from their supporters, a targeted message from the advertisers, and as they pass, footage of the product.”

“What we want to evaluate here today is the effectiveness of the advertising,” Matthew said. “Each screen has the same information, but delivered in a different order. We’ve done some modeling in the office, but we need feedback from you guys as to which works best.” He held up the recorder fastened on a lanyard around his neck. “As you see each screen, I want you to record the following information. Screen number, your thoughts about the content, and how you are feeling—both approaching the screen and leaving it.” He pointed to the table set a little way away from the starting line. “When you’ve finished your run, hand in your recorder to Janice and she’ll give you an envelope.”

“No winners ribbons, boss?” one of the company’s directors, Jason shouted.

Matthew put his hands on his hips. “No, this isn’t about who’s the fastest, because that will be me, of course.” Laughter rose in the air. “The envelopes are a thank you to everyone for volunteering. I’d love to take you all to the pub afterwards, but I know many of you have other things to do on a Saturday evening, so Janice has organized a little cash reward for helping out for you to spend as you wish. Taking your supporters out to dinner, maybe?”

He could tell this surprise was well received, and made a mental note to thank Janice later for thinking of the idea. When he’d put out the call for employees to give up their Saturday afternoon he’d been surprised by the instant positive response.

What had started as a test of the advertising campaign for their newest client had somehow morphed into a team-building exercise. The single members of the company seemed to be using it as a dating aid too. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Jason had a team of three secretaries waving him on. Some of them had even made little flags.

There might well be some new couples by the time Monday morning swung around.

“Okay, are we ready?”

The runners took their position at the starting line, the supporters spread out behind the cameras, and the race began.

He’d only been half kidding about being the frontrunner. Although business had consumed most of his time this week, Matthew’s usual routine of running three times a week meant he had a step up on most of his employees. As he approached the first screen, the rest of the field was far behind. The screen flashed up ‘Matthew you’re in the lead!’ He grinned. Pressed the button to record. “First screen, feeling good about being in the lead.” The image changed to a picture of Susan, who waved a flag with a self-conscious smile at the camera. “Feel good, having Susan waving,” he recorded. Then as he drew level with the screen, a close up image of a runner’s feet clad in Albios sneakers appeared with the company’s logo above them. “The footage is too slow, I feel the urge to match my speed to theirs—it should be speeded up slightly. There could also be more information on this part; maybe we could insert the tagline. There’s time for me to take in more information.”

Satisfied, Matthew picked up the pace. Seeing a campaign in action was so much more effective than modeling it on the boardroom monitor. Heat spread through his thigh muscles as he pushed his body to its limit. The mix of runners, occasional joggers and walkers didn’t matter. Each participant had at least one supporter, and as he passed the first group behind the camera, each person’s enjoyment was evident.

Susan had volunteered to be his supporter, which was lucky, because he didn’t have anyone to ask. Even though he got on well with everyone who worked for his company, the invisible boss-employee divide dictated none of them would be caught dead waving a flag and urging him on. For the first time in years, a trace of loneliness spread through him.

He dated, but kept his work and private life separate. And there was no one he could imagine wanting to see on the sidelines. Not that any of the women he dated would want to stand outside in the crisp spring air encouraging him on.

He approached the second screen, and dictated notes into his recording device. Everything about this campaign had to be perfect. Albios wanted to trial the campaign at a smaller 10k women-only race next month, and if all went well, Logan Advertising would be awarded the contract for advertising during the London Marathon.

This campaign was the big one. The one to cement their position as one of the most successful new advertising agencies in London. With the economy contracting, many of his rival firms had been forced to make redundancies; some had even gone out of business. The company he’d borrowed money from his parents and the bank to start five years ago bore his name. Everyone who worked within the spacious offices in one of London’s steel and glass skyscrapers had mortgages to pay, families to support. There was no way Matthew would sacrifice any of them to the recession gods, not if he could help it.

His mother always called him stubborn.

Muscles burning, Matthew wiped the sweat from his brow as his feet pounded the asphalt.

Stubborn didn’t begin to cover it.

Chapter Two

All work, no play, makes April a dull girl.

And I’m dull enough. April rubbed blusher onto her cheeks. If it had been up to her, she’d stay in again and watch another DVD. Her friends joked about the alphabetized stack on the shelf behind her TV, and sure, she had to admit she did have every rom-com ever produced, or at least every rom-com with her favorite leading men in them, but there wasn’t anything wrong with that.

Marie and Eliza didn’t agree. They were always telling her to stop watching life from the sidelines, and get out there and live it. She’d suggested a girls’ night in, but this time they were adamant. The city had a lot to offer, and both of them were determined that tonight, they’d go out and sample a little bit of it.

As long as they didn’t both hook up with gorgeous guys like last time. There was nothing fun about playing gooseberry.

She straightened the leather skirt Marie had persuaded her to buy in a moment of madness. How on earth was she going to sit down in this thing without flashing her panties to everyone? With a sigh, she turned away from the mirror.

She had time to make a phone call.

She sat on her bed and rested her hand on the phone.

Surely June had taken her advice, and given up the mad idea of inviting Matthew to the wedding? They hadn’t had a chance to discuss it before June had headed back to Ireland.

She pulled in her bottom lip and chewed it. June wasn’t an idiot. Even if Michael knew she’d been engaged once before, he couldn’t possibly be okay with inviting her ex. And their parents would be livid. Mum’s heart wasn’t strong, she’d already had one heart attack, and the sight of Matthew Logan lounging in the pews would definitely add stress to what was already ramping up to be a stressful day.

Their father, Jack and his second wife Inez were flying in from Spain, and although both of her parents got on well enough most of the time, being seated next to each other on the top table would add more electricity into the mix. There was a real danger of electrocution, and if they clashed over Matthew … 

It was tempting to just hope for the best, and ignore the situation. But in all honestly, she couldn’t. Because Matthew’s presence at the wedding held the potential to turn everyone’s world upside down.

She dialed June’s number.

June bubbled with wedding news. April dutifully reported on the dress’s progress—at their final meeting she’d fitted June with the plain cotton toile mock-up of the dress, and made alterations. They’d finalized the final fabric, a heavy duchess satin in pale silver. June had brought Michael with her, so they hadn’t had a chance to talk about the Matthew situation.

Bloody man. He’s even become a situation.

June burbled on and on. April’s eyes glazed over. She wasn’t even remotely interested in the meal, the table settings, the flowers, but she obediently made the right noises for the following fifteen minutes. Then she snapped.

“June.”

“And we thought for the buttonholes—”

“June.” Raising her voice and lowering her tone had the desired effect.

“Hmm?”

“I want to talk to you about Matthew.” April gritted her teeth.

“I’ve sent the invitations.” Was there a trace of too-late in June’s tone?

“You didn’t invite him, did you? You know we agreed it wouldn’t be a good … ”

“You agreed inviting Matthew wouldn’t be a good idea, I disagreed.”

Oh crap, there definitely was more than a trace of too-late in June’s voice, in fact it was more of a I’ve-done-it-get-over-it tone.

“June, you didn’t.”

“April, I did.”

If she could see her sister now, April knew exactly what expression would be on June’s face. She’d have her hands on her hips and her bottom jaw stuck out like a boxer inviting a punch. But she’d have her dukes up, ready to strike back.

“It’ll cause no end of trouble.”

“He’s not a bad guy. Everyone blames him for—”

“Because he ran out on you, June. He’s the goddamned runaway groom.”

“He didn’t leave me at the altar, April.”

“Semantics.” April squeezed her eyes tight shut. How could June not realize that if Matthew attended the wedding he would be the sole topic of conversation?

If the press gets hold of it … She rubbed at the ache blooming in her forehead. Michael’s family was practically American royalty. All of the newspapers would be there, and if one of them decided to do even basic research they’d discover June’s history.

The past would only stay in the past as long as Matthew wasn’t in the church.

The doorbell rang.

“Oh, who’s that?” June jumped on the diversion like a cat pouncing on catnip.

“Marie and Eliza, we’re … ”

“You’re going out? Great! Have a good night, we’ll talk soon!”

A click. Dead air.

Was there actually such a place as Margeritaville? April licked the salt from the rim of her glass and followed it with a chilled mouthful of tequila. “We should have stuck to beer,” she muttered. Her mouth tasted funny, as if her tongue had gone to sleep or something.

“Oh chill out. There’s no work tomorrow.” Marie pushed back her cloud of blonde hair, and adjusted her impressive cleavage. “This place is great, isn’t it?”

April peered through the gloom. “It’s sort of dark.”

“Dark is good.” Eliza helped herself to a handful of nuts from the little bowl on the table.

The house band switched to yet another soulful country tune.

“Why is it every country song in the universe is about broken hearts?”

“They’re not all about broken hearts, they’re all about love.” Drink always brought out Marie’s romantic side, and tonight was no different. “Love makes the world go round. Didn’t you hear?”

“Love and broken hearts are the same thing.” Her stupid sister had love. For the second time in her life. And she was willing to risk it, for what?

“You are in a crap mood this evening.” Eliza cracked pistachios with her teeth, and added the shells to the mini pistachio mountain she’d got going on her side of the table. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d been a victim of a drive-by love shooting. What’s going on?”

April never spoke about her sister’s love life. There had been so much gossip about June’s romance self-destructing; the family had put the whole subject on sacred-topic-never-to-be-discussed-outside-the-family alert.

Nope, she never talked about it. Except to Eliza and Marie.

“I called June before I came out.”

There were twin moans from across the table.

“Your sister.” Eliza grimaced.

“Your sister is a pain in the ass.” Marie slammed her margarita onto the table. She waved her hands as though fighting off an influx of ninjas. “Okay, I know you don’t want to hear a word about your sainted sister, but honestly, you take so much crap from her. She’s always putting you down.”

April’s forehead hurt. She rubbed at the skin between her eyebrows. What?

“She does.” Eliza’s head jerked up and down in a nod so emphatic she looked like a bobble-headed doll. “You just don’t see it. Every time you call her, or see her, you go all … ” She looked up, rubbed her jaw. “All sort of inferior.”

“Inferior?” Her voice sounded ridiculously high. April swallowed. “What do you mean, inferior? I’m not inferior.” Getting up and storming off wasn’t really an option in these shoes, so April let her tone do the job for her.

Eliza rolled her eyes. Glanced at Marie.

“Look, what Eliza’s trying to say is you talk about June as though she’s a princess or something. As if she’s better than you.”

“She’s had a hard time.” They both knew June’s history; it was inconceivable both her friends could be such bitches. Where was their empathy? Their female solidarity in the face of the awful thing that had happened to June?

“June had a relationship a long time ago that went wrong. She’s never worked a day in her life, and now she’s engaged to a man who will take care of her for the rest of her life. I honestly don’t think she’s had such a bad time.” Eliza reached out and placed her hand over April’s. “Your father’s covered her rent for how long?”

“Well, she was upset, she needed—”

“She didn’t need seven years to get over it.” Eliza sipped her drink. “Look, I know you love her. But you’re wearing rose-tinted glasses as far as your sister is concerned. She’s had every advantage a girl could have, and she’s happily taken every single one of them. Unlike you, she takes without giving back. She’s not paying you for the dress, is she?”

“And you really can’t afford to buy all the material, and the pearls and everything,” Marie added. “I think she could have at least offered.”

“I’m happy to make her dress. She’s my sister.” Okay, she could sort of see their point; it was no secret April’s overdraft was stretched to the max to buy supplies for June’s dress.

“Her fiancé is so rich he’s hired a humongous yacht to sail her around the Caribbean for their honeymoon.” Eliza’s lip curled. “She buys everything from underwear to evening dresses in designer boutiques.”

“She could have bought her dress from anywhere, but she chose me.” April pried apart a pistachio nut and tossed the shell back into the bowl. “She chose me.” June hadn’t just picked her to make the dress because it was free. So why did doubt drip like chilled water down her spine?

“She chose you because you will make the perfect dress. You’re a great designer,” Marie said. “But she’s taking advantage by not paying you for it.”

“Hmm.” April wanted to go home.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wreck your buzz.” Eliza’s eyes glistened. “You know I think you’re fantastic, don’t you? It’s just your sister really annoys me. And you brought her up. What happened on the phone call?”

April shot her a side-eyes glance.

Eliza pressed a finger to her lips. “I promise not to bash June any more. No matter what.”

Her friend looked so sincere, April relented. “She’s sent out the invitations. And she invited Matthew.”

Marie gasped. “Matthew? The runaway—”

“Surely you told her … ” Eliza said.

“Yes, I told her it was a completely stupid move, but she did it anyway.”

Eliza squeezed her lips together. Put both hands over her mouth, like the speak-no-evil monkey. She shook her head.

With Eliza on shut-down, Marie’s voice broke the silence.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Matthew recognized the handwriting on the thick ivory envelope immediately, even though he hadn’t seen it for years—since he’d been a kid passing notes in class. June’s handwriting wasn’t even particularly distinctive, there was no reason why it should be so instantly recognizable, but memory was pervasive.

He tapped the heavy envelope, half hoping to discern its purpose without having to actually open it. He hated revisiting the past, filled as it was with long discarded pain and anger. Over the past seven years, he’d changed so much his past self was a stranger to the man he was today.

He placed the envelope carefully on the rosewood table inside the front door, and stalked away as though escaping an unexploded bomb.

The house was too empty without Ben. His dog had lived for many more years than anyone expected, but eventually old age and disease had caught up with him. Matthew’s mother had been trying to persuade him to move on, to share his home and time with a puppy, but the time wasn’t right. He was so busy with work he didn’t have the right to bring a new dog into his life. Besides he was rarely here, spending most of his time at the office. When Ben was alive, he’d worked in his home office at weekends, but now … 

Now, there was nothing keeping him at home. Nothing that needed him.

He levered open a window and breathed in the cool evening air. Why would June contact him after all these years?

With a curse, he stalked back to the table and snatched up the envelope.

The card inside was a wedding invitation, wrapped in a folded piece of paper.

her familiar looped handwriting wrote.

The note was signed with love, then her signature. Matthew read the details of the wedding. He didn’t recognize the name of her intended, but she’d chosen to wed in the church they’d decided on so many years ago. As it was the only church in Brookbridge, the village they’d both grown up in, that was no surprise.

If any of his family knew June Leigh was getting married they would have told him, so he guessed he was the only member of his family to receive an invitation. All ties with the Leighs had been cut after the wedding was called off. He’d told Amy she should stay friends with April, the two of them had always been closer than sisters, but she’d been adamant at breaking off relations.

Matthew had moved on in more ways than one. Luckily he’d done well enough in his end-of-year exams to have a choice of places to complete his third level education, and had chosen the option as far as possible from Brookbridge. His family had mourned his move to the UK as though he’d emigrated to Australia.

Every time he returned home, the prospect of running into June or her mother on the street cast a cloud over everything. People in the town, people he’d known his whole life, still looked away when he walked into the local shops. The town had a long memory.

Inviting him to her wedding … 

He ran his thumb over her words. Maybe in some twisted way she thought inviting him to the wedding would heal the wounds, would show everyone she’d made peace with the past. Rehabilitation—June style.

Matthew ripped the invitation in two, and dropped it into the wastebasket.

Dad usually rang on Sundays, and today was no exception.

“Inez wants some insider info on what color dress she should wear for the wedding.” He sounded tired. “I don’t see that it matters, but she says it really does. So I’m asking.”

“I don’t know about Michael’s mother, but Mum is wearing light blue, and I’m wearing a sort of dusky rose.”

“That’s pink, right?”

“Tell her dusky rose, she’ll get it.”

“Light blue and dusky rose, Inez,” Jack called.

April smiled as she heard her stepmother in the background.

Jack sighed. “Now she wants to know about hats.”

A call from Inez.

“Okay, okay, fascinators. What the hell is a fascinator anyway?”

“It’s a sort of headdress, Dad. Tell her Mum is wearing a hat, and I’ve got pearls in my hair.”

“Jeez, it’s so complicated.” Her father was quickly losing patience with all things feminine. “The wedding is a month away. I don’t see why everyone is getting so het up.”

April scooted up in bed, rearranged the pillows, and pulled her duvet close. “It matters, Dad. We just want everything to be perfect.” She plucked at the duvet cover, and wished she’d managed to get a glass of water before her father’s call. Her head was pounding as though an army of jackhammer-wielding builders were having a party.

She closed her eyes. She rarely drank, and this morning she remembered why.

Hangovers suck.

Her father droned on. “Come on, what could go wrong?”

She almost told him.

“June said Michael’s family have block-booked the hotel, apparently they have security travelling with them. His father sounds a real hotshot. I’m booking a room today for Inez and me. Do you want me to book one for you too?”

“I’m going to stay with Mum.” Her mother had announced she wanted to sleep in her own house after the wedding, and April had voted to join her. It was bound to be an emotional day, and at least this way they could spend some quality time together.

“Okay. June seems happy?”

“Yes, I think so.” It was natural her father would be worried about his eldest daughter. After all, he’d been here before and seen it all gone wrong.

“She deserves some happiness. I haven’t seen that young buck since he ran. Even after all these years … ” He made a familiar sound, the sound he made when sucking through his teeth.

“It’s a long time ago.” April tried to infuse her tone with soothing.

“Not long enough. I swear if I see him again I’ll deck him.”

The pain in her jaw alerted her to the fact she was grinding her teeth again. She slackened her jaw, opened and mouth and breathed in and out.

So June hadn’t told him then. Fan-bloody-tastic. A part of her, the part that had nursed a crush on Matthew all those years ago almost felt sorry for him. No doubt, he’d come to the wedding under the impression he was being welcomed back into the fold, when in fact there were a whole pack of wolves ready and waiting to tear him limb from limb.

If June hadn’t told Dad, she wouldn’t have told Mum either, which meant the best possible scenario was Mum would dissolve into tears as her ex ranted and raved, or have a heart attack with the stress.

There was nothing for it—someone needed to save the situation, and despite the lack of a superhero costume, it would have to be April to the rescue.