Mills & Boon Christmas Delights Collection. Rebecca Winters

and with clients, but I still wanted to increase the number of staff. Part of my business plan was to accept an intern. I’d learned so much when I’d done the same thing after getting my degree – about all different aspects of the job, things you just can’t learn in college – and I wanted to give someone else the chance to have that same experience. The thought of going to watch Final Collection shows with the view to employing someone, and then helping to nurture and develop that talent, gave me something to look forward to. My gaze went back to the photograph lying on the desk of the happy couple. The look of joy and love on their faces radiated out of the picture. I touched it briefly, almost as if by doing that I could experience that same joy, just for a moment.

      Taking a deep breath, I took my mug and rinsed it out in the little kitchenette at the back of the studio. I slipped on my coat and belted it before grabbing the oversized leather tote bag I carried everywhere, and headed to the door.

      ***

      ‘When’s it going to stop?’ I asked my best friend, Mags, as I relayed the surprise visit I’d had during the week, ‘Honestly, I feel like the prime exhibit at a zoo! I have absolutely no idea who this woman was. I didn’t even know any of the people she reeled off as having told her the “devastating news” of my being jilted at the altar.’

      ‘Just ignore the old bag.’ Mags said sagely as she refilled my empty wine glass.

      ‘She even pointed out the irony of someone who makes wedding dresses for a living being left at the altar on her own wedding day. I mean, seriously! I felt like suggesting that she should join Mensa because, of course, that thought hasn’t crossed my mind once!’

      ‘Have you heard anything more from him?’

      ‘What, since he left me that thoughtful note saying he was going to go on the honeymoon alone as it “seemed a shame to waste it” and it would be good to “have some space between us”?’ I’d definitely had too much wine as I was doing finger quotes in the air. I never did finger quotes.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘No.’

      That was the good thing about living in London. It was big. You were much less likely to bump into people you knew than if you lived in a village. Of course Steven knew all our old haunts, and seemed to be having the good sense to stay out of them. I imagine he’d heard about my reaction in the church. I knew Rob wouldn’t have said anything out of choice but announcing that the wedding was off whilst trying to stem a steady flow of blood from his nose, together with the obvious lack of a groom, had probably meant that there wasn’t a whole lot of explanation required. Steven was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d likely worked out pretty quickly that going to the places we used to frequent together may lead to the possibility of the term ‘regular haunt’ becoming more literal than figurative for him.

      ‘How are your parents doing?’ Mags asked.

      Mags and I had been friends forever. We were both army brats with our fathers serving in the same battalion, and I couldn’t remember a time when Mags wasn’t my best friend. When it had become clear that Steven wasn’t going to make an appearance at the church, she’d automatically known that the last thing I wanted, or needed, was a crowd of people fussing around me. She’d gone over to my parents, tactfully explained the situation, then sat with them whilst my dad stared at the flower display – silently, likely imagining several different ways to kill Steven with a gerbera – and my mum repeatedly asked how Steven could do such a thing, intermittently dabbing at her eyes with an embroidered linen handkerchief. Of course, had Mags known I was about to deck the best man, she might have altered her strategy.

      ‘They’re ok. Devastated. Concerned. But ok,’ I took a swig of the crisp, cool wine, ‘I think so long as they know I’m all right, they’ll be fine.’

      ‘And are you?’ Mags asked, looking at me directly, knowing I could never give her anything but an honest answer.

      I drained my glass and thought about it. Was I ok?

      ‘Yes. I think so. Now the shock’s worn off. I still have days when I don’t really want to get out of bed, but then my stubborn side kicks in and I think that I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing what a bloody mess he’s caused.’

      Mags nodded. I knew there was another question coming.

      ‘Ok. But what about how you really are? That’s the “showing the world I’m ok” bit taken care of, but how are you inside. Really?’

      I loved Mags to bits, but sometimes I wished she wasn’t quite so insightful. I fiddled with the wine bottle cork as I let out a sigh.

      ‘I’m not sure, to be honest. He hurt me. Totally humiliated me. But I am getting through it. And that sort of worries me in a way. I mean, shouldn’t I be sobbing and wailing and declaring that my broken heart will never mend? It’s made me question whether he was really The One after all. I mean, I thought he was, obviously. But now – I don’t know! As much as I hate to admit it, I’m secretly wondering if he actually did me a bit of a favour. Would the marriage even have lasted, seeing as I’m not pining away for him?’

      I took another swig. ‘Of course, I’d rather he’d told me prior to the bloody wedding day!’ I said, my voice getting louder as I finished the sentence.

      It was the truth though. I was seriously wondering if I had very nearly made a big mistake. But the anger at Steven for humiliating me, and my parents, as well as his own, still boiled away. I didn’t know how long that would take to go away. I hadn’t seen Rob since the wedding day either, so it was likely he wasn’t too sure about that aspect either, and, bearing in mind I’d punched him on the nose last time, he wasn’t taking any chances. I could hardly blame him.

      As if reading my mind, Mags looked over from where she was studying the label on the wine bottle.

      ‘Have you seen Rob at all since then?’

      I shook my head.

      ‘You do know you actually broke his nose, don’t you?

      I whipped my head around to face her. Thanks to the copious amount of alcohol now thinning my blood, it took the world a moment or two to catch up. I blinked, and waited a few seconds for it all to settle down. Mags pushed her own cute little nose to the side, as if to illustrate the point.

      ‘I couldn’t have! He’s an ex-army, six-foot-three rugby player and I’m...’ I paused to look down at my own far less statuesque frame, ‘...not. I didn’t even hit him that hard!’

      If I’m honest, I wasn’t entirely sure about the last bit. In the days following the incident, my hand, with its perfectly manicured nails, had turned a variety of shades, none of which were particularly attractive, as the whole thing became one massive bruise. And he had ended up on his bum.

      ‘Hard enough, it seems.’ Mags confirmed, a small smirk catching her lips.

      I saw it.

      ‘Stop it! It’s not funny.’

      Her smirk turned into a grin.

      ‘It’s not!’ I reiterated, ‘Anyway, how do you know?’

      ‘I saw him a few days ago. I was at Borough Market at lunchtime and he came into the pub with some colleagues.’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘He was asking after you. He wanted to know if you were ok.’

      ‘Oh.’ I said again. ‘What did you tell him?’ I asked, after a couple more minutes.

      ‘I just said that you were doing ok, under the circumstances, and that you would be fine because you’re not about to let a lowlife piece of pond scum like Steven ruin your life.’

      ‘Right. Good. Ok. So long as you were subtle about it.’

      ‘Of course.’

      And the funny thing was, that actually was subtle for Mags. It was lucky that it had been Rob and not