Magical Weddings (26 page)

For a nanosecond she wondered what would happen if she didn’t turn around to acknowledge her name being called. But then she remembered she was a mature adult. Well, at least more mature than the last time Matthew and she had been in the same room together, she thought with a wince.

Turning around she met his eyes across the sea of caffeine addicts and tried for a smile. “Hello Matthew. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

He smiled, and as one corner of his mouth tipped up sexily, Cait refused to acknowledge the catch in her breath.

“Oh, this is your neck of the woods, is it?” he said. “I’m not sure I realised.”

“You don’t remember I work at the Museum of Fashion?” she said, running her gaze over what he was wearing and refusing to dwell on how good he looked in it. Considering all she had ever known him to wear was jeans and t-shirt, or the branded climbing and outdoor gear he had put his name to two years ago when his TV extreme sports/travel guide programme had gone stratospheric, she found herself wondering how looking so utterly comfortable in the latest cut of suit had come about.

“You’re still at the museum?” he asked, emphasising the word ‘still’ enough to raise her hackles.

Did he have to make it sound so boring? Despite the late night and the worry over her meeting, at five a.m. this morning she had been dancing around her apartment with eagerness because today was the day that key pieces for her exhibition were scheduled to arrive.

Being asked to oversee the new lace exhibition was, for her, confirmation of everything she had been working towards since gaining her PhD and starting work as a textile conservator. The size and scope of the exhibition was the largest she had tackled. The responsibility to ensure she got the pieces mounted in the right way and told the story of lace in a way that would educate as well as entertain was something she intended to take seriously.

As she did everything in life.

Well, except for that one blip, she thought looking at Matthew and trying to stem the rush of memories.

“Yes, Matthew,” she answered, her voice dipping coolly, “I am still at the museum.”

Suddenly, her view was obscured by a woman stepping forward with a mutinous expression on her face and for a moment Cait thought the woman was about to give her a serve for deigning to be so rude to the handsome man. It turned out though, that the queue had simply moved forward. Mortified, Cait turned around and moved up the two places in the queue.

“We should talk,” Matthew said from his place in the queue and the quiet seriousness in his tone made her think that they really shouldn’t. They had never really been any good at talking, her and Matthew. From the moment Rosie had introduced them at university, they had danced around each other, never quite clicking. Except for that one time when copious amounts of alcohol had loosened Cait’s tongue to ridiculous levels.

“Let’s not and say we did,” she replied, refusing to turn around once more.

“Cait,” came the reprove, complete with an audible tsk.

“Matthew,” Cait answered trying to sound like she was placating a demanding toddler.

“You never could call me Matt, could you?” he said and this time the voice came from right beside her.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, throwing a quick apologetic look to the woman behind her before whipping her gaze back to Matthew. “You’re back in England now. We do not jump the queue over here.”

The lady standing behind Cait in the queue immediately chimed in with, “If you want to continue this flirty-flirt reunion thing the two of you have going, I suggest you both move out of the queue. This early on a Monday morning people don’t require entertainment. They just require coffee.”

Cait made a scoffing sound at the flirty-flirt comment only to find Matthew grinning charmingly at the woman before turning to her.

“It’s a beautiful day outside,” Matthew said, nodding his head at the strong sunlight filtering in through the large windows. “I’m sure there are other places we can buy our coffee this morning.” He turned back to her and Cait had to remind herself she wasn’t obliged to get caught up in those magical eyes of his that could change from ocean-blue to meadow-green at the drop of a hat.

“You up for that?” he asked.

“But I always use this coffee shop,” Cait answered defiantly.

Matthew simply shoved his hands into his pockets and waited for her to change her mind.

She wasn’t going to give in, she wasn’t…

“Oh for-,” stepping from the queue she threw an impatient, “Come on then. It’ll have to be quick though, some of us do actually have to get to work this morning.”

“Great. I know another place anyway—better coffee,” he said as if to make up for getting his own way.

“How do you know it has better coffee,” Cait asked, ducking under his arm as he reached over and pulled the door open for her, “you haven’t even been here.”

In the bright summer sunshine, she glanced at her watch. She could take twenty minutes and still be early for work. There. See. She could step outside of her daily routine. She wasn’t boring.

“Actually,” Matthew replied, starting up Bennett Street, “I’ve been back a while.”

Cait nearly missed her footing as she stared up at him. “A while? Seriously? Do Rosie and Guy know?”

Matthew considered her for a moment and Cait wished, not for the first time, that she could read him better.

“Of course they know,” he finally said. “We had dinner a couple of nights ago.”

Wow.

Cait didn’t know what to think.

Why hadn’t they invited her?

And why hadn’t either Rosie or Guy told her that he was back?

“I don’t understand,” she said, following him into a recently opened café that she had been meaning to try. The interior was dark but welcoming, with a Natural World theme that she liked.

“You don’t understand that I didn’t want to be the kind of best man who flies in, gives a speech, and then flies out again?” Matthew asked quietly.

Anger came swift and loosened her tongue. “I find it hard to believe that a schedule that saw you unable to get back for Guy’s birthday, or his and Rosie’s engagement party, could suddenly free up enough time for you to arrive well before the eleventh hour. Aren’t you supposed to be navigating rapids in the jungle and filming the results, or something?”

She joined the queue, which was naturally much shorter than the one she had left and risked another glance at him. He had always had this way of looking at her. As if he knew something about her that she didn’t know herself.

It was so arrogant, Cait thought. So annoying. So- “Oh my God,” Cait whispered, with a sudden inkling as to exactly why he had found the time to come back more than three weeks before their friends’ wedding. She licked her lips and pushed the words out. “You’re here because of me?” Two years drifted away and she was back in the apartment Guy and Matthew had shared, drunk and upset and pouring her heart out to a man who showed absolutely no sympathy and who, the following day, when she was sober and completely mortified, wouldn’t even let her recant.

What the hell did he think she was going to do? Stand up at Rosie and Guy’s wedding ceremony and object?

“You really think I’m that person?” she managed to get out, every cell in her body ready to reject his answer.

Matthew stood staring down at her, his eyes searching hers, and then confidently he said, “No. I don’t think you are that person.”

The relief racing through her had her swaying a tiny step towards him.

“Not if I won’t let you be,” he added.

Cait stared at her laptop screen, her mind rushing, her emotions churning.

That Matthew could actually think she would want to stand up at her best friend’s wedding and try to stop it! Was he insane?

She rolled her chair tighter to the desk and pulled the mouse determinedly towards her in an attempt to dismiss his words and start work.

But, God, his quiet vow that he was here to make sure she didn’t ruin Guy and Rosie’s big day had bruised.

And made her run.

Straight here, back to her tiny broom-cupboard office, where she could lick her wounds and try folding up all the hurt.

She sniffed and promised herself she wouldn’t let tears fall over this. She didn’t have time to be derailed by Matthew Searle and his ridiculous notions. She had a tonne of work and a wedding to get through.

At least the lace arriving this afternoon was something to look forward to she supposed, struggling to re-energise.

Personally overseeing the arrival and unpacking of items into the museum for exhibition was one of the best bits of her job. She would be able to start visualising the final layout as she made detailed notes of which pieces needed specialised cleaning before they were mounted for display.

In an effort to claw back some of the excitement she had started the day with she clicked on her research document and scrolled through until she found what she was looking for.

From the moment she had stumbled across the drawing of the point de neige lacework wedding dress designed by Caterina Rosso, she had wanted it for the exhibition.

The dress was why she was pleading for more money this morning.

The dress was why she had spent weeks writing a paper on why the lacemaker Caterina Rosso needed to be included in the exhibition.

Her story was incredible.

And the dress…

The dress was sublime.

Enchanted, Cait got lost in the drawing and was just starting to feel like she had got perspective back—that seeing Matthew earlier didn’t have to be such a big deal, when her phone rang out with the opening bars to “Here comes the Bride.”

Cait nearly let it go straight to voicemail. With Matthew’s proclamation still raw, she wasn’t sure she could hide the humiliation from Rosie. Then again, casually finding out from her friend when Matthew would be leaving again might help restore her equilibrium. Forcing a smile onto her face so that she didn’t sound upset when she answered, she picked up the phone.

“Hi,” she managed in a sing-song voice.

“Cait” Rosie rushed out, “I’m sorry to do this to you because I know your workload is crazy-mad at the moment, but I need a major favour.”

“Of course,” Cait automatically reassured, even as her smile faltered. Rosie had hardly asked anything of her in the lead up to the wedding and now Cait realised she hadn’t really known if that was because Rosie tended to drink out of the same control-freak pool as she did, or whether it was because she too thought her friend had a thing for her fiancé.

Silently she cursed Matthew for highlighting how much she hated even the suggestion that Rosie might be second-guessing her motivation for helping with the wedding organisation.

“Guy’s father is in the hospital,” Rosie said.

“Oh no,” Cait clutched the phone tight to her ear. “Is it,” she swallowed hard, “is it another heart-attack?”

“No, thank God, but it’s looking like pneumonia.”

“Oh sweetie,” she commiserated, hating hearing the shock in her friend’s voice. She knew how close Guy was to his father. How worried he must be. With the wedding only three weeks away, would his father even be well enough to attend?

“I’m going to drive up with Guy to visit him in hospital and we’ll probably end up staying a couple of days to make sure Guy’s mum is all right too,” Rosie said.

“Of course.”

“This isn’t something I’d normally ask, but-,”

“Don’t be silly, what do you need?”

“My wedding dress is being delivered tomorrow. I promised the seamstress I’d check the hem length with my wedding shoes. I forgot to wear them for my last fitting and the ones I had on felt like they were a good match for heel height so I don’t think there’ll be a problem, but if I don’t double-check I’ll worry. The thing is I really wanted to drive to Oxford with Guy straight after work tonight.”

“No problem,” Cait said, mentally rearranging her Saturday so that she could help out. “I can head over to yours tomorrow; wait in for the gown, and then drive it up to you.” She could always do some work at Rosie and Guy’s until the dress was delivered and it was only a two hour drive to where Guy’s parents lived in Oxford. She could deliver Rosie’s wedding gown and drive back and still have time to do some more work that evening. Work might not allow her much of a social life at the moment but at least it kept her from examining the loneliness that had washed over her the moment Rosie and Guy had announced their engagement.

“That’s really good of you but if Guy’s sister even suspects I have the dress with me she’ll be at me wanting a sneak peek and I want it to be a surprise for all of them on the day. Which leads me to…well, would you be able to try it on for me?”

“Your wedding gown?” There had to be another way, Cait thought desperately.

“Please, Cait,” Rosie begged. “We’re the same size and height.”

“I know but Rosie, I’m not sure-,”

“Please. It would really set my mind at ease. Guy is being all brave but I know he’s devastated his father is in hospital. I want to be here for him and not worrying about anything else.”

What could she say?

“But isn’t it bad luck or something?” she rushed out, immediately clicking onto the internet to Google it and find out.

“Look, if it feels too weird for you-,”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Cait immediately insisted. With Matthew’s parting shot ringing in her ears she definitely didn’t want Rosie thinking she had another reason for declining. Although, weird was an understatement. Somehow, the first time Cait thought she’d be trying on a wedding dress, she had assumed it would be for her own wedding. But Rosie needed her help. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d be trying it on for herself. She was doing this for Rosie. She scanned the results of her Google search and couldn’t find anything about it being bad luck. “Um, okay, then. If you’re one hundred percent sure?”

“Oh that is so great,” Rosie gushed. “You’re a life-saver. My wedding shoes are at the back of the wardrobe in the spare room, behind all the other boxes. If the fit is fine can you take the dress to your place for safe-keeping? I was always going to ask you if you could do that anyway and that way Guy doesn’t even have to worry about curiosity getting the better of him.”