Page 11 of The Brit and the Bridesmaid
Mum is going to laugh at me.
And she did. A lot.
For his part, Matt didn’t think it was very funny.
Chapter Five
“Matthew asked about you.”
Abby examined the apples laid out at the produce stand, pretending her sister’s comment hadn’t made her breath catch. “Matthew Carlton?” she asked as though it didn’t matter.
“Who else?”
“I do know more than one person named Matthew.” Actually, she wasn’t sure she did. “What did he have to say?”
“Only that you helped with a fungus or something in the roses and that he thought it was nice of you.”
She felt a stab of disappointment. He hadn’t really asked about her, then. He’d simply mentioned her. Abby and Caroline moved to the next booth at the farmer’s market.
“The bushes had a little black rot,” Abby explained. She bought a small bushel of blackberries from the farmer running the booth.
“Black rot?” Caroline sounded absolutely horrified. “That will be gone before the wedding, won’t it?”
“The roses will be gorgeous. I promise.”
They walked along. Abby usually enjoyed the Sunday farmers’ markets, but Caroline was killing the joy.
“And the flowers for the bouquets—”
Abby jumped in before Caroline could ask the question she’d posed a thousand times in the months since Gregory proposed. “Emily is reliable and talented. You saw her work. I promise you, the bouquets will be amazing.”
“How was your last fitting?” Caroline asked.
Abby moaned. “The dress fits fine; it just looks ridiculous.”
“It’s a perfect reproduction of World War I-era dress. It’s perfect.”
Perfect was not the word Abby would have used. She would much rather spend her days dressed like she was then, in a comfy t-shirt and running shorts, wearing her worn-out running shoes. “That dress makes me look like a history nerd getting ready for Halloween.”
Caroline threaded her arm through Abby’s. “It’ll be beautiful.”
Abby shook her head at her sister’s romanticism. “Gregory must really like you.”
Caroline’s eyes turned dreamy. “He does.”
“Speaking of which.” Abby motioned ahead with her chin. “There he is. It must be noon.”
“Isn’t he the cutest?” Caroline squealed a little.
“Go ahead. I’m going to walk around the market for a while.”
Caroline didn’t need more encouragement; she was off like a bolt of lightning. Abby watched her go with every bit as much amusement as envy. Though she’d never been the hopeless romantic her sister was, she did sometimes catch herself daydreaming about finding someone she could be that perfect with and for.
Those daydreams eventually came to an abrupt end. Dirk the Jerk saw to that. He’d appeared in her life like a hero in a cliché romance novel. He was the wealthy, suave, dreamy hero who somehow decided to be interested in the plain, poor, awkward heroine. Except he turned out to be a complete jerk. She’d been blind about it for a while, but she’d finally realized how he saw her: never quite good enough.
That was a year ago. Quit thinking about it.
She sat on a bench overlooking the sprawling green fields of the park where the farmer’s market was held. The blackberries she’d bought worked well as comfort food. By the time she’d finished off half of the little basket of berries, Dirk the Jerk had almost completely left her thoughts. The park was peaceful, one of the things she liked most about coming to the markets. Children played on a nearby playground. People jogged the running paths. A disorganized soccer match covered a field to the left. To the right, people tossed balls back and forth.
