Page 20 of The Brit and the Bridesmaid
“There hasn't been a chance to talk to you all day, and I didn't want to risk causing a scene during your sister's wedding,” he said. “But I can't let the entire night get away without seeing you. So I’ve been waiting here, hoping you’d step out.”
The few guests wandering the entryway gave her and Matt curious glances. Abby could feel her face heat with the attention.
“Can we talk in here?” Matt asked, motioning toward his office. “I’ll only take a minute, I promise.”
She was halfway to his door before the realization hit her that if she really thought he was a complete jerk, she wouldn’t have agreed to talk with him without so much as a hesitation. Besides, he was being her Matt again, not stuffy Matthew. She could at least find out what made the difference, where the change came from.
She stepped inside, pushing from her mind the memory of the snooty couple who’d sat there the last time she’d been at Sainsbury House. Nothing much had changed in his office. Her eyes settled on a potted plant at the corner of Matt’s desk. It hadn’t been there before. And she knew exactly what variety it was.
“A fuchsia,” she said, gently running her fingers along the petals of one flower. The same plant Barney gave Francis every year for their anniversary, for her birthdays, as an “I love you” and an “I’m sorry” and everything in between.
“It’s a Swingtime Fuchsia,” Matt said. “The variety you like best.”
This was her Matt, remembering every little thing.
“I brought it for you,” he said. “Though I haven’t figured out how to give it to you yet.”
“For me?” She looked up, her heart already beginning to hope. It would shatter if this didn’t turn out well. She cautiously asked, “Why?”
She had never in her life seen a man beg, but the look on Matt’s face in that moment came very close.
“I miss you, Abby. I miss sitting on the balcony with you. I spend all day Sunday at the farmer’s market watching for you. Every time my phone rings, I hope it’s going to be you calling.” He’d moved to her side but didn’t touch her. His eyes studied herface, the pleading in them not lessening at all. “I want a chance to try again. A chance to make things right between us.”
A bubble of hope began deep inside. Abby tried to push it down, not ready to open herself up to the possibility of being hurt again.
Matt slowly, deliberately took her hand, clearly expecting her to pull away. She didn’t. She couldn’t. His touch filled an empty part of her. She’d missed him too. She’d needed him nearby.
“I was something of an idiot about things,” Matt said, holding her gaze with his. “When you were here before, I wasn’t trying to hide you away. I wasn’t embarrassed to have you here or ashamed of you. Nothing like that.” His words took on an earnest edge she couldn’t doubt was sincere. “The people who were here are quite possibly the biggest snobs on the face of the earth. And they are often cruel. I have no choice but to interact with them— it’s one of the more unpleasant parts of my job— but I didn’t want you to have to. I was afraid they would be unkind. I didn’t want you enduring that. And if they’d been cruel to you, I couldn’t have held my tongue. I was trying to avoid all that.”
“Really?” She wanted to believe him. She wanted to badly.
“Honestly and truly.” He took her other hand. “I should have been clearer about that. I should have explained and let you decide what you wanted to do.”
“I would have been very out of place with fancy and sophisticated people.”
He lightly laughed. “My mum keeps saying I need to tell you that I’m just a regular bloke from Stanmore.”
Abby had no idea what that meant, but he said it so earnestly, she knew it was significant.
“I’ve never been rich and probably never will be. I’m just an average guy who’s, honestly, kind of surprised you let me spend as much time with you as you did.”
A ridiculously handsome, well-spoken, successful guy surprised that she liked being with him?
“All we ever did was trim plants and play soccer.” She could hardly believe he’d cherished those moments.
He shrugged a single shoulder. “I grew up pruning plants and playing football. I like it. I enjoy it. And I like and enjoy you.”
That was something Dirk had never once said to her. Not ever. She’d always felt like she had to prove to him that she was worth his time.
“You brought me a fuchsia.”
He nodded uncertainly. “I kept thinking of Barney’s stories and how Francis would always forgive him if he gave her a fuchsia. I hoped it would work the same magic for me.”
“You want to be my Barney, is that it?” She couldn’t say exactly why the question thickened her voice with tears. She wasn’t generally a crier.
“I want to try,” Matt said. “I would very much like to have that chance.”
“And I would very much like a Barney of my own.” She wanted aMattof her own. Her Matt. He brushed his thumb along her cheek just as he had that evening in his apartment. She smiled up at him, a smile that for the first time in a long time came straight from her heart.
