Page 124 of Paper Roses

epilogue

. . .

Six Months Later

artie

“Those are crooked, Raff.”

Jed scales the stepladder nimbly, grabbing the offending strand of fairy lights and winding it correctly around the old beam. I rush to grab the ladder’s base and stand admiring the sight of his tall body clad in faded jeans, a white T-shirt, and old Vans. His hair is longer than ever, and summer has woven golden threads in the silky strands like secret treasure.

Raff huffs. “You are the bossiest groom I’ve ever met.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t know how you can say that. Didn’t Martin demand a meeting with you at two in the morning to discuss the font on his wedding invitations?”

“He may have demanded it, but I didn’t give in,” he corrects me, giving a haughty sniff. “I’m no one’s bitch.”

“What time did you meet him?” Jed asks wryly as he comes down the ladder.

“At three a.m., but that’s not the point,” Raff insists as we all break into laughter.

Jed slings his arm over my shoulder as I look around with appreciation.

We’re back in Mal and Cadan’s barn, but that’s the only similarity from last year. Now it’s decorated with beautiful mismatched painted tables and chairs with bright seat cushions. Bunting in bright colours swings merrily in the breeze and the sunlight catches the glassware, making rainbow patterns on the wood floor. It’s quirky and warm and there are no hay bales in sight.

The most important difference is that the man I’m marrying, loves me back.

As if sensing my thoughts, he drops a kiss on my head. “Happy?” he asks.

“How can I be otherwise? Especially when you’ve gone to so much effort for me.”

He’d insisted that we renew our vows, and ever since that day he proposed to me outside the Berlin photo booth, he’s been planning our wedding. He booked Mal’s barn, bought new rings, and we’re going on a honeymoon to Positano tomorrow, because we’ve been reading a thriller set there, and I’d been raving about the descriptions. I know he’s trying to make things special for me, but as I’ve told him before many times, they’re already that. This is just some lovely marital icing.

“Yes, I don’t know how I ever managed to ignore your charming suggestion that we just exchange our vows while eating beans on toast,” he says wryly.

I snort. “I admit it’s not everyone’s idea of romance.”

“I wish it had been Martin’s,” Raff grumbles. “I swear I have grey hairs from his constant demands. He would make King Charles seem humble.”

“The grey will hide the ginger,” Jed observes.

Raff growls. “Strawberry blond.”

“And I’m Sly Stallone.”

Footsteps sound, and Joe appears. “Everything’s ready,” he announces. “The guests will get here in an hour.”

“My family?” Jed asks.

“On their way. They had to stop twice because your mum was convinced she’d left the oven on.”

Jed groans. “She did that once. We had to return home all the way back from Devon. The only bright side to having a fire in the extension was that we got to play on the fireman’s pole.”

He stops, realising what he just said, and Rafferty snorts. “You saucy little strumpet.”

“I was five.”

“Well, your arsonist parent is about twenty minutes away.” Joe grins at me. “Daisy and Paige are getting ready, and then they’ll help with the finishing touches.”

---