Fiona Harper

by Saying Yes to the Millionaire [HR-4031, MNR-129, A Bride for All Seasons 02] (lit)

  She turned, a look of sheer panic on her face. ‘Josh!’

  That was when he saw them—Kate and Aidan—appear from nowhere further up the square and race across a clear stretch of road. They must have been right behind them all the time. Suddenly it didn’t matter how many damn buses there were. He weaved in and out, ignoring the shouts and honkings.

  The stage and finishing post were clearly visible at the base of Nelson’s Column now. Fern started running before he reached her, her face pink with exertion. He dodged one last taxi, caught her up and grabbed her hand. Together they gave everything they had in an attempt to reach the Secret London flag first.

  A crowd had gathered, cheering and yelling, making it hard to work out where Kate and Aidan were. It wasn’t until they were within metres of the finish that he realised both teams were neck and neck.

  Everything went into slow motion. The shouts of the crowd boomed in his ears and he felt a great weight tugging him down. Fern had stumbled and her heavy backpack caused her to crash on to the ground, taking him with her. Instinctively, he clutched at her and pulled her to him so at least he partially broke her fall.

  The crowd went wild and he knew without raising himself on his grazed and bleeding palms that Kate and Aidan had crossed the finish line.

  They sat on the edge of one of the fountains and he watched Fern inspect the dressing on her lacerated knee. Neither of them had spoken in the last ten minutes. They’d just picked themselves up, smiled for the cameras and numbly allowed the St John’s Ambulance crew to patch them up.

  Josh closed his eyes and tried not to let the sense of defeat engulf him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  She looked nervously at him. ‘About what?’

  As usual she was being far too nice. ‘About losing the race. If I’d crossed that road with you we’d have made it.’ He shook his head. ‘A split-second, a missed chance. That was all it took. I should have gone when you did.’

  But he’d been too busy reeling from her revelation to pay attention.

  ‘Don’t be daft. We might have beaten them still if I hadn’t tripped over my own feet again. What a pair of losers we are!’ She let out a broken laugh and it ended in a sigh. ‘I know it’s a cliché to say that it was the taking part that was important, but it really was. I learned things about a city that I thought I knew so well and—’ she drew her knees up and rested her chin on her good one ‘—I learned a lot about myself, about what’s important in life.’

  He nodded. He’d certainly learned something over the last few days. The problem was that it was all spinning round inside his head at the moment and he hadn’t had a chance to work out what that might be.

  ‘I meant what I said.’ She tipped her head to look at him. ‘I do love you.’

  He swallowed.

  ‘Tell me you don’t feel the same way.’

  He returned her gaze as openly and honestly as he could. The fact that he’d been stupid enough to fall for her wouldn’t change the outcome if they got together. ‘I can’t.’ He wouldn’t lie to her, but he couldn’t give her the happy ending she’d been wishing for either. They were grown-ups and they needed to face reality.

  She slid off the wall and on to her feet, a fierce, brave expression on her face. Her head moved gently from side to side. ‘You coward.’

  ‘No.’ That wasn’t it at all. He was no good at the emotional stuff, no good at anything permanent.

  ‘I always thought you were so brave. I idolised you,’ she said quietly, staring across the packed square. ‘I thought you did all those exciting things, went to those exciting places, because you weren’t afraid of anything.’

  So had he. Why then, was this conversation making the blood race in his ears and his stomach churn?

  ‘I should have realised it sooner.’ She was almost talking to herself. ‘You started running when Ryan died—running from all those overwhelming feelings you didn’t want to face—and you’ve never stopped. For crying out loud, you didn’t even go to his funeral!’

  She was right. He hadn’t been able to do it. ‘I couldn’t face it. It was…’ Even those words were too hard.

  Her face softened and it looked as if she’d reached some kind of decision. ‘You’ve never properly grieved for Ryan, and you need to. Until you do, you’re never going to be ready for a grown-up relationship. You have to start living, feeling again—all the experiences, not just the good ones, so intense they blot out everything else.’ She sighed. ‘When you let people close, when you love people—’ the soft tenderness in her eyes broke his heart ‘—it gets difficult and painful and complicated sometimes. That’s the nature of human relationships.’

  She moved closer and her voice was almost a whisper. ‘Love can be exhilarating and terrifying and wonderful—all the things you used to say you wanted out of life.’

  Slowly, she raised her hand to trace the skin of his cheek. He closed his eyes. It was too hard to look at her. Too hard to watch her heart breaking in front of him. Her lips brushed his and she kissed him—sweetly, softly, slowly—then stood back.

  ‘Goodbye, Josh.’

  His automatic reaction was to reach for her and he caught her wrist in his hand. She shook her head and the tears started to flow.

  ‘You were right after all.’ Her lips pressed together, then wobbled. ‘And little sisters hate it when their honorary big brothers do that.’ She made an attempt at a soggy smile and slid her hand out of his grasp.

  ‘Fern…’

  ‘We don’t have a future together. Not unless you sort this out.’ She stepped backwards. ‘For my whole life I’ve waited for you to say yes to me, but now I’m saying no to you. I’m going to start living instead of hiding.’ And with that she backed away and melted into the crowd.

  He should have known there’d be fresh flowers. He reached down to the bouquet sitting directly in front of the headstone and turned the card over.

  The bunch of riotous summer flowers was from Fern. The simple message read: Here goes! All my love, Fern.

  He dropped the card and took a few steps backwards. He hadn’t seen her in three weeks. And he’d been telling himself he was fine with that. His feet were like lead weights as he stepped forward again and put the sad-looking bunch of carnations he’d found at a petrol station next to her bouquet.

  He had a plane to catch in six hours. Visiting Ryan’s grave hadn’t been an afterthought, more like something he’d been avoiding. In the end he’d made up his mind just to go and do it quickly, spur of the moment. It hadn’t made it any easier.

  His mobile phone buzzed in his pocket and he ignored it. It would be Callum, his business partner, fussing about the last-minute details of his trip. Today he was off on a fact-finding trip to Cambodia. Next year they were hoping to offer an ‘explore the temples of Angkor Wat’ expedition. And once he’d finished with that he planned to find a beach in Thailand and lie on it for a whole month.

  It was time to move on. Mum and Dad were in Scotland. The grapevine must have been working wonderfully because when he’d arrived home, dressings on his hands and a grim don’t-even-try-talking-to-me look on his face, they’d backed off and given him space. And when he’d insisted on paying for their trip they’d just nodded.

  He didn’t think he’d ever had to endure anyone’s pity before. It was horrendous. And he had nowhere near the grace Fern had to smile politely and pretend he wasn’t gutted. He had a lot to learn from her.

  Eventually, he’d worked out what he’d learned from the treasure hunt too. He’d learnt that he could miss opportunities, even though he’d thought he was immune to that. And he’d learnt that he’d been blind to the treasure in his life until it had disappeared.

  He missed Fern.

  He’d looked up her address and had thought about going to see her, but once again he’d waited too long. She’d gone away. And, anyway, there was no point. The words she’d said when she’d left him in Trafalgar Square mocked him. He wasn’t any further on
now than he had been then. He wasn’t ready for her and he certainly didn’t deserve her.

  He pictured the terror on her face the day she’d stood on top of the crane waiting to do the bungee jump and thrust his fists into his jacket pockets, disgusted with himself. She was right. He was a coward.

  He looked at Ryan’s grave. He couldn’t stay here any more. It wasn’t doing any good. He didn’t feel anything. Pebbled paths criss-crossed St Mark’s churchyard and he just picked one and followed it.

  All his noble spoutings about not wanting to ruin their friendship, not wanting to hurt their parents, had been excuses, just as she’d said. He’d got his wish. He’d backed off and left her heart alone—although he was probably kidding himself if he believed it was undamaged—and still their friendship was in tatters. Thinking it could have returned to normal had just been a fantasy.

  What he’d feared had happened anyway. And, try as he might to leave those messy feelings behind when he got on the plane this evening, he suspected they’d be his travelling companions; their barbs dug in far too deep to be shaken off easily.

  He sighed, realising that he’d come full circle, and was standing back in front of Ryan’s grave.

  Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t see Fern now. Helen Chambers had told his mother that her daughter had gone away to France. He’d been left behind, as he’d deserved to be. She’d been brave enough to take a leap of faith when he had only run for cover. Gutless, that was what he was.

  The yellow carnations looked shabby on their own. Ryan deserved more than that. He ripped the soggy paper off them and started poking the stems in between the sunflowers and greenery of Fern’s bouquet. When he’d finished he stood back and looked at his haphazard work. Ryan would have laughed his head off.

  Just that one thought squeezed his heart so hard that moisture popped out of one eye. Until today he’d been too scared to come to this spot, but now he was here, he knew he couldn’t leave. Not until he’d said some long-overdue things to his best friend.

  His backside hit the dewy grass with a thud and he bowed over his crossed legs.

  ‘Sorry, mate…’ his voice was raw ‘…I let you down…and I let her down…’

  And he put his head in his hands and began to cry.

  Fern’s mobile rang and, as it had done so many times in the last few weeks, her pulse hiccupped. It’s not him, she told herself crossly.

  The display told her it was her mother and she was tempted to pretend she hadn’t seen it, but that would sentence her to a morning of panic calls every five minutes just to check she was okay, which would seriously suck all the fun out of the sightseeing she had planned. She slid her phone open with a sigh.

  ‘Hello, Mum.’

  ‘Hello, darling. What are you up to?’

  She should have been used to her mother’s nervous checking of her whereabouts by now but, to be honest, at twenty-eight she was thoroughly sick and tired of it. She wanted to say, I’ve decided to strip off and become a cancan dancer at the Moulin Rouge. What she actually said was, ‘Well, I’m standing outside the Louvre right now and, after I’ve wandered round and had some lunch, I’m going to the Eiffel Tower.’

  Silence for a few seconds. ‘Isn’t that awfully high up?’

  ‘Mum, honestly! They have health and safety procedures here in France too, you know. I’m not going to fall off.’

  ‘Well, just you be careful.’

  I always am, she thought. Too careful.

  ‘What sort of time will you be at the Eiffel Tower?’

  This was a new level of monitoring, even for Mum. She’d been absolutely awful since she’d found out about the bungee jump. Fern rolled her eyes. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  Her mother coughed. ‘Just…well, just because I like to know where you are when you’re away from home.’

  Oh, for goodness’ sake! The information would have to be provided or the interrogation could last for hours. ‘I’m aiming to get there about two o’clock. Satisfied?’

  Her mother sounded very pleased with herself. ‘That’s lovely, darling. Have a nice time. And don’t forget to call us if you have any news, okay?’

  ‘Bye, Mum. Give my love to Dad.’

  Fern closed her phone and returned it to her bag, frowning. News? That would be a laugh. She was just a single girl spending a week in Paris. It was hardly headline stuff.

  Getting away had just seemed like a good idea. She could understand why Josh was inclined to do it now. A different place, new tastes and experiences. She’d hoped it would help her get everything into perspective.

  She made her way into the Louvre, deliciously cool after the baking July sun, and drifted from room to room. The trip had been part of her ‘moving up and moving on’ strategy. After losing the race, she’d felt so awful about depriving the Leukaemia Research Trust of the prize money that she’d emptied her savings account—her nest egg, her security—and had given five thousand pounds to the appeal out of her own money. There’d been just enough left to splash out.

  New horizons.

  She stood still and acknowledged the familiar wilting feeling she got every time she thought about ‘moving on’. For so long she’d waited for Josh, but now the waiting was over.

  Right now, she couldn’t ever imagine erasing him from her heart. She still burst into tears at the oddest of times, but she was allowing herself to grieve for both him and the death of long-cherished dreams. When the process was complete she’d be free to find love with someone else in the future. Now she was open to it; her heart was no longer barricaded. Josh had done that much for her, at least.

  Eventually she found herself standing in front of the Mona Lisa. That smile really was unbearably smug. She put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows.

  You look pretty pleased with yourself, sitting there all happy and content. What’s your secret? she silently asked. What do you know that I don’t?

  Josh fastened his seat belt and stared out of the aeroplane window. Even the first class seat didn’t feel comfortable on this trip.

  He liked to sit near the window, to see all the different scenery, exciting places he yet had to visit, as he flew high above. His destination today was somewhere new and exciting. Somewhere he’d wanted to visit for years. He should be pumped, but actually his heart was feeling a little sore and bruised.

  The aeroplane taxied to the end of the runway and, as the jet engine shook with restrained fierceness and the scenery started to roll by faster and faster, his thoughts echoed the message on the bouquet on Ryan’s grave.

  Here goes.

  A slight haze blurred the edges of the horizon. Fern peered through the wide wire mesh that stopped her plummeting to her death. It was beautiful up here, still and peaceful. She could see the Arc de Triomphe, cars chasing round it like frenzied insects, and the Seine, gleaming regally as it curved through this beautiful, romantic city.

  A great, heavy breath left her. She didn’t want to be here alone. But she was. And she had to deal with it. Her fingers curled against the wire in front of her and she rested her head against it while she braced herself for the torrent of emotions that surged through her. She rode the wave and felt herself calm again, pleased she hadn’t let the tears fall this time.

  A prickling sensation on the back of her neck made her go still. One by one, every fine hair stood to attention. The noise of the city dwindled. A pair of warm, steady hands circled her waist. The skin there, sensitive even through the fabric of her T-shirt, tingled and sang. Electricity leapt through her, zapping her from head to toe as he leaned in close enough for her to feel the beat of his heart against her back.

  He was in paradise—white sand, crystal-blue sea, palm trees swaying gently in the tropical breeze. Josh stared across the beach at the small group of people who had followed him here for this latest adventure. His hands were shaking, but the others didn’t seem nervous at all.

  But they had no idea how wonderful, amazing and totally terrifying the next
hour would be. No idea at all. He took a deep breath and turned to look up the beach.

  Any moment now it would start. A sudden and unexpected burst of adrenaline flooded through him. A primal fight or flight response, but he refused to move. This time he was staying put.

  A flutter in the breeze, a whisper of voices, the way the crowd around him went still and turned, told him it was time. His heart rate rocketed.

  Ryan, mate, I hope you’re looking down on me and smiling. I’m keeping my promise the best way I know how.

  And, with the knowledge that deep down to his toes he had made the right decision, he turned around also.