Dawning (Dysmorphia Series #3)

Burnt

Andrew's best men had decided that today, whilst Florence was in the middle of mass baking batches of cookies, was the best time to arrive in a flurry of noise and jovial laughter.

"Our boy's getting hitched!" Florence heard Marcel's loud voice from the kitchen were she was adding chocolate chips to her bowl.

She had to smile, Marcel with his massive bush of curly hair atop his head just made people smile, it was a talent of his and she was so glad that of all the people in the world, he was Andrew's best friend.

"Clarke!" Marcel appeared around the corner grinning widely and holding out his arms which she jumped into, doughy hands and all, he groaned.

"I won't be able to call you Clarke for much longer seeing as how your taking my man's last name!"

She smiled back at him, she'd never told him but she secretly loved that he called her Clarke, the way he behaved towards her was with the air of an affectionate big brother, she'd never had a brother.

Andrew appeared grimacing slightly.

"Sorry Flo, I did tell them to come at four, but they were slightly impatient" he gestured to the four guys behind him who had the decency to look bashful.

 The guys kept their distance, probably worried about getting dough on their pristine jackets but they smiled and waved and Florence felt the familiar wave of shock come over her, this was really happening in two weeks she was really getting married, Andrew's friends arrived today and would stay at a nearby hotel to help with last minute preparations, and Lucy, Cooper and Natalie would arrive next week.

They all left the room as quickly as they had arrived, Marcel sneaking a chocolate chip from the worktop leaving Florence to carefully roll out the dough and distribute it onto the tray into twelve equal rounds breathing deeply as she did so, it wasn't that she disliked having all these people in their home it was more the fact that everything had seemed startlingly real these past two weeks.

Florence, her Mother and Cooper were scheduled to go for a last minute dress fitting that afternoon, she'd picked what she thought was the perfect dress with the two most important women in her life, a sweeping gown with a sweetheart neckline and silver embroidery on the bodice. 

She and Andrew had decided on their menu, along with the drinks menu, he'd picked out the colour of his groomsmen's ties a royal blue and Florence had decided that the bridesmade's dresses should be a sky blue to compliment this.

Phillipson Church had been booked, the invitations had all been sent out and their wedding planner had done most of the work but Florence somehow felt like she was watching it all unfold from afar, there was no doubt in her mind that she loved Andrew but she still felt detached, and he'd done exactly what he'd said he would making her mug after mug of coffee and helping her to relax.

But she knew what was wrong, everytime she'd imagined getting married in the past, in her dreams it had always been Chase, she pounded the dough extra hard under her palm as she thought about the dream she'd had last night, she'd had her veil on, constricting her view and a pair of warm hands had led her to the front of the church, everything had been blurry.

And then the priest had told Andrew that he could kiss the bride, except when her veil was lifted instead she saw Chase beaming down at her and slowly leaning in.

She'd woken up in a cold sweat to find Andrew looking up at her startled, she'd explained her scream away as a nightmare, but this felt like a real nightmare, after everything she just couldn't let go, and it all boiled down to one simple question.

Did she even want to let go?

"Now what did that poor cookie dough ever do to you?" Florence almost jumped out of her skin as she turned so see Andrew inspecting her with worry as her hands froze.

"Nothing, its just I needed to knead it extra hard to get the sugar to mix, when you don't it's all lumpy"

"It won't be lumpy, and even if it is it will be great because it was made by you" he kissed her forehead gently and she sighed, she was being stupid about this whole thing, it was just wedding nerves combined with her wacky hormones and nostalgia.

"Were getting married" she said looking up at him with a smile.

"Yes we are" he clung on to her for a second and looked like he was about to say something, he didn't.

"Right, I'm going to go and drop the lads off at their hotel and then pick up those pesky napkins on my way back, I shouldn't be more than an hour, save some cookies for me!"

He released her and made for the door.

"Andrew?" she called out, suddenly needing to say it.

"Yeah?"

"I love you, drive safely"

"Love you too Flo, and don't worry Mum, we'll all wear our seatbelts"

She grinned, and was still grinning as the timer sounded and she took out the cookies, they were perfect, crispy and golden.

Florence put in the next batch and then carried her cup of coffee to the table, she almost tripped over a box as she walked, a box that had been knocked to the side, probably by Marcel, her breathe caught as she looked down and saw it was Chase's box.

This was Chase everything they'd ever had, in a box, the pictures the photographer had taken of the two of them, his final letter, a picture of him and his family and finally a part of his will that concerned her where he'd left a heartbroken girl all of his possessions.

He'd ruined her, really he had here she was with two best-selling books, more money and fans than she could ever have anticipated and an adoring fiancee who would quite literally move mountains for her and she was shaking like a gun was being pointed at her head, shuddering with sobs, her mouth moving with a thousand unspoken apologies.

Everyone assured her that being happy was what Chase would have wanted, but no one could ever know what he had wanted, would he be disappointed that she'd chosen to become one with someone else?

She'd only known him for nine months but she knew he would never be that possessive, his spirit was too generous and forgiving.

Florence fingered the edge of the letter, too scared and too aware of how she would react if she read it again.

She decided to read it anyway, self-torture seemed to be her forte, the words were faded but still readable, it had been five years since he had left her and each word still seemed raw, Chase Roberts had once written these words with a warm and highly alive hand, with thoughts of her on his mind.

This wasn't something she would ever get over, if she was fifty years old she would still cry into her hands about what she had lost, if she ever had children would she weep to them about someone who wasn't their Father? 

Would she one day be a wizened old woman with her memory fading and mix up the memories, forget which ones belonged to her and Chase and which ones belonged to her and Andrew?

Andrew found Florence two hours later in a house that reeked of burning, asleep and clutching a photo frame so hard to her chest that later a red mark would surround her rib-cage with tears plastering her hair to her face and twelve cookies burnt to a crisp in the oven.