Page 5 of Forever Love at Fleur's Flower Shop

‘Who is he?’ Bea asked again as she turned back to Fleur.

‘That’s Matty Holmes.’ Sadie stated matter-of-factly.

‘Who is?’

‘The man Fleur was going to marry.’ Sadie spoke quietly, but her words still struck a blow to Fleur.

‘What? How did I not know this? You were engaged?’ Bea’s voice grew high-pitched.

Fleur bit down on her bottom lip again, this time drawing blood as the metallic taste filled her mouth.‘Shh, don’t stare.’

Turning back to her, Bea raised her eyebrows. ‘I thought we told each other everything?’

‘It was a lifetime ago.’ Fleur shrugged. And a time she really didn’t want to think about, a time she’d spent the last ten years trying her best to bury.

‘Yes, but, come on, being engaged is a huge deal. Why didn’t you tell me?’ Bea wrung her hands in her lap.

Fleur couldn’t mistake the tone of Bea’s voice. She was hurt. She would have told Bea, eventually anyway, but it just hadn’t come up. And she hadn’t offered up the information. She watched as he slowly turned, his eyes roaming the restaurant before meeting hers. She watched as a small frown flashed across his face before Ruby called his name and he turned away to collect his order, the moment lost.

‘I still don’t know why you left him at the altar.’ Sadie shook her head. ‘You two were, like, perfect together.’

‘You left him at the altar?’ The shock in Bea’s voice was audible.

Fleur nodded slightly as she peered out of the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Matty again. Please just be visiting. Please. When they’d split, he’d left, swearing never to return, not to the town centre, anyway. Of course, he visited his parents, but he wasn’t supposed to be wandering around Nettleford. He’d promised to give her space. She swallowed. Why hadn’t he kept his promise?

Chapter Four

After spending the last three hours tossing and turning, Fleur rolled over and picked up her alarm clock, turning it to face her.

04:00

Great. She wasn’t going to get a moment of sleep tonight, was she? She’d have to leave for the flower market in an hour and if, by some miracle, she happened to fall asleep within the next few minutes, she’d probably end up oversleeping and missing the market. And she couldn’t do that, not with the Robson’s anniversary celebration flowers needing to be delivered this afternoon.

Sighing, she threw the duvet back, exposing herself to the cold spring air. She’d wander into work early. She had a ton to do, and besides, there were always the accounts to catch up with, or the marketing, the social media. She forced herself to get changed and wrapped herself up in her coat, hat and scarf before braving the outside world.

As she locked the door to her little yellow Cotswold stone cottage she’d inherited from her grandparents, she drew in a big breath, the chill in the air filling her lungs and doing its bit to help her groggy self focus. Yes, a walk into the centreof Nettleford before getting a large mug of coffee would be the perfect way to combat any feelings of tiredness. It wasn’t as though she could sleep anyway, so the more she could do to wake up before her trip to the flower market, the better.

Turning out of Daisy Crescent, her eyes were drawn across the road towards the turning to High Acre, the street Matty grew up in.

She pulled her scarf higher up her chin. It felt strange, knowing he was likely asleep in their house less than half a mile from where she was standing. She usually only ever heard of his brief visits to his parents after the actual event. Normally by eavesdropping on her customers’ conversations. She’d never seen him before. Not since their wedding day, the wedding day which hadn’t been.

No, the last time she’d laid eyes on him had been when she’d walked into the church and seen him standing at the altar in his pristine black suit, his best friend standing next to him and the vicar pointing to him, indicating that she’d arrived.

It had been at that moment, in the few seconds it had taken him to turn around, his expression nervous but excited, that she’d known what she’d had to do. When his eyes had met hers and she’d seen his nerves melt away and be replaced by sheer happiness, that the realisation that she had to run had slammed into her chest, physically causing her to stagger back before catching her breath and turning on her heels.

The familiar feelings of shame, sadness and loss washed over her as she continued to walk and she wiped her wet cheeks with the fingers of her gloves, the pink wool drying her tears. Why, after ten whole years did she still feel this way? Each and every time the image of Matty’s face filling with horror, sorrow and confusion pushed its way into her mind's eye, she felt the same.

She needed to forget him again. Force herself to bury the memories. She’d done the right thing. She knew she had, butseeing him last night… She shook the thoughts from her mind as she turned the corner towards her shop.

And that’s where she halted. Stopped. Right ahead of her, standing outside her flower shop, was Matty. His broad shoulders and stubbled chin were unmistakable. Even though he’d changed, he’d developed muscles, laughter lines, the stubble, she knew it was him. She’d seen his unmistakable deep brown eyes yesterday at Ruby’s, had clocked his transformation from the young clean-shaven man who had waited for her at the altar to one who had countless mysterious experiences behind him yesterday. She knew it was him.

And at his heels sat his parents’ large yellow Labrador. What was he doing up so early? Hadn’t he been able to sleep either? Was it because he’d seen her?

She picked up her pace. She could speak to him now, get the awkwardness over and done with. Plus, it would be nice to see him again, to speak to the man who had been on her mind for all these years.

But no, she couldn’t. She paused a few metres behind him and began walking backwards. At the corner, she waited, ready to turn and run if he so much as looked in her direction. There was a huge part of her who wanted to run up to him, to explain, to apologise, but she just couldn’t. It had been ten years, and she hadn’t once reached out to offer an explanation. She’d run from the altar to America, visiting her cousin for six months and when she’d come back home to her grandparents’ old house, he’d moved out of the village and normal life had resumed.

Normal life besides the huge gaping hole she’d had in her heart. Normal life despite the stares and unspoken questions and words of admonishment from her neighbours, from her friends. And slowly but surely, the awkward silences had ceased and the fact she’d run out on one of the kindest, most popularpeople in Nettleford wasn’t on the forefront of people’s minds anymore.

---