Runaway Groom

by Sally Clements

  “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.

  We were friends once, her familiar looped handwriting wrote. I’m getting married, and I’d love you to come. 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.