The Fiancée He Can't Forget. Caroline Anderson

over. She hugged Daisy hard, then turned to Ben—just in time to see Matt release him with a look in his eyes she hadn’t seen since—

      ‘Congratulations, that’s amazing,’ he said gruffly, and gathered Daisy up and hugged her, too, his expression carefully veiled now.

      Except that Amy could still see it, lingering in the back of his eyes, a fleeting echo of a grief once so raw it had torn them apart.

      ‘So, when’s it due?’ he asked, going through the motions. Not that he wasn’t interested, but today of all days …

      ‘The tenth of May. It’s very, very early on,’ Daisy said wryly. ‘I did the test this morning.’

      ‘Right after she threw up.’

      Matt gave a soft huff of sympathetic laughter. ‘Poor Daisy. It passes, I’m reliably informed by my patients.’ That’s right, keep it impersonal …

      ‘It’s a good sign,’ Amy said, her voice slightly strained to his ears. ‘Means the pregnancy’s secure.’ Unlike hers. Oh, God, beam me up …

      ‘Changing the subject, it’s none of my business, but—’ Ben began, but Matt knew exactly where this was going and cut him off.

      ‘You’re right, it’s not. We needed to talk, there were a lot of people about. Amy slept in my room, and I went to hers.’

      At a quarter to six this morning, but they didn’t need to know that, and he was darned sure they wouldn’t have been up and about that early. But someone was.

      ‘Yeah, Mum said she saw you coming out of your room and going to another one at some ungodly hour.’

      Damn. Of all the people …

      ‘I went to get my phone so I could ring the hospital,’ he lied, but he’d never been able to lie convincingly to Ben, and as their eyes met he saw Ben clock the lie and yet say nothing.

      As he’d said himself, it was none of his business, and he obviously realised he’d overstepped the mark. He’d back him up, though, if their mother said any more, of that Matt was sure. ‘So how is Mel?’ Ben asked, moving smoothly on, and Matt let out a slight sigh of relief.

      ‘Fine. They’re all fine. I’ve been in to see them, and they’re all doing really well. She was keen to hear all about the wedding. I promised I’d take her some cake—unless you want to do it when you come back?’

      ‘No, you go for it. I’m glad she’s well. Thanks for going in.’

      ‘My pleasure. Did you order coffee or do you want me to do it?’

      Daisy pulled a face. ‘Can we have something less smelly, and something to eat? I really don’t think I can wait till breakfast.’

      ‘Sure. I’ll order decaf tea. What about bacon rolls?’

      ‘Oh, yes-s-s-s!’ she said fervently. ‘Amazing! Matt, you’re a genius.’

      He smiled, glancing across at Amy and sensing, rather than seeing, the sadness that lingered in her. She was smiling at Daisy, but underneath it all was grief, no longer raw and untamed, maybe, but there for all that.

      Would it ever get easier? Ever truly go away?

      He hoped so, but he was very much afraid that he was wrong.

      ‘Well, hello, Mummy Grieves! Are you up for visitors?’

      ‘Oh, yes! Hello, Amy, how are you? How was the wedding? Did Daisy look beautiful?’

      ‘Utterly gorgeous, but I bet she wasn’t as gorgeous as your little girls. Aren’t you going to introduce me?’

      ‘Of course. I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve called them Daisy and Amy, because you two have been so kind and we really love the names.’

      ‘Oh, that’s so sweet of you, thank you,’ Amy said, her eyes filling. In a rare complication, the twins had shared the same amniotic sac, and the danger of their cords tangling had meant Mel had been monitored as an inpatient for several weeks, and she and Daisy had got to know Mel very well. And this … She blinked hard and sniffed, and Mel hugged her.

      ‘Thank you,’ she corrected. ‘So, this is Amy. Want a cuddle?’

      ‘I’d better not—infection risk,’ she lied. That was why she’d gone on her way in, so her clothes were clean, but the last thing she wanted was to hold them. Delivering babies was one thing. Going out of her way to cuddle them—well, she just didn’t.

      She admired them both, though, Amy first, then Daisy, their perfect little features so very alike and yet slightly different. ‘Can you tell them apart yet?’ she asked Mel, and she smiled and nodded.

      ‘Oh, yes. I could see the differences straight away. Adrian can’t always, but he’ll learn, I expect. And Mr Walker and his brother—they’re very alike, too, aren’t they, but I can tell the difference. There’s just something.’

      Amy swallowed. Oh, yes. Ben didn’t have the ability to turn her into a total basket case just by walking into the room, and just to prove it, Matt strolled in then and she felt her stomach drop to the floor and her heart lurch.

      ‘Talk of the Devil,’ she said brightly, and saying goodbye to Mel, she slipped past him, trying not to breath in the faint, lingering scent of soap and cologne, but it drifted after her on the air.

       Just one more day. He’ll be gone tomorrow.

      It couldn’t come soon enough …

      He found her, the next day, working in the ward office filling out patient records on the computer.

      ‘I’m off,’ he said, and she looked up and wondered why, when she’d been so keen to see him go, she should feel a pang of sadness that she was losing him.

      Ridiculous. She wasn’t losing him, he wasn’t hers! And anyway, since the wedding they’d hardly seen each other. But that didn’t mean they hadn’t both been painfully, desperately aware. Yet he hadn’t once, in all that time, suggested they repeat the folly of Saturday night—

      ‘Got time for a coffee?’

      She glanced up at the clock. Actually, she had plenty of time. There was nothing going on, for once, and although no doubt now she’d thought that all hell would break loose, for the minute, anyway, it was quiet.

      Did she want to make time for a coffee? Totally different question.

      ‘I can spare five minutes,’ she said, logging off the computer and sliding back her chair.

      He ushered her through the door first, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, and she felt the warmth, the security of it all the way through to her bones. Except it was a false sense of security.

      ‘We ought to talk,’ he said quietly, once they were seated in the café.

      She stirred her coffee, chasing the froth round the top, frowning at it as if it held the answers. ‘Is there anything to say?’

      He laughed, a short, harsh sound that cut the air. ‘Amy, we spent the night together,’ he said—unnecessarily, since she’d hardly forgotten.

      ‘For old times’ sake,’ she pointed out. ‘That was all.’

      ‘Was it? Was it really?’

      ‘Yes. It really was.’

      He stared at her, searching her eyes for the longest moment, and then the expression in them was carefully banked and he looked away. ‘OK. If that’s what you want.’

      It wasn’t. She wanted him, but she couldn’t trust him, because when her world had disintegrated and she’d needed him more than she’d ever needed anybody in her life, he’d turned his back on her.

      She wasn’t going through that again, not for him, not for