I pluck the ring out of the box and slide it on her finger, sending up silent thanks to the universe because it fits perfectly, and kiss her with all the love she has created inside me.
I can see all the happy years we have in front of us. Maybe in Sydney, maybe in Scotland. But all of them are happy.
I try to dry Lulu’s tears with a corner of the sheet but they keep coming, along with a watery laugh, so I know they’re happy tears.
“How do you think your mother will react?” she asks, turning her hand back and forth in front of her face so the ring catches the light from the bedside lamp.
“I couldn’t care less to be honest. All I want is to be your husband. Nothing else matters. Just you and me.”
“You and me. Sounds perfect.” She sighs wistfully. “And we are in Scotland, after all. Gretna Green is only a few hours away.”
“Gretna Green?”
“You know, small town, famous for elopements …”
“That sounds like a plan to me. Now, I think it might be time to improve on my earlier performance.”
Lulu laughs as I gather her close and do exactly that.
Epilogue One
Lulu
Asithappens,youcan’t just turn up to Gretna Green and get married anymore. But all you need to do is give them notice. Nick extends his leave of absence from the firm, which freaks Harry out a little bit at first. And although Nick refuses to speak to his mother, we hear from Claire she’s threatening to disown him. He’s not the least bit concerned.
He sets up a better internet connection at the house, which he persists in calling the castle, and we turn one of the spare rooms into an office for him so he is able to work remotely on a consultancy basis when he wants to. But on most days, he can be found out in the fields with Dad, up to his armpits in sheep and cows, or in the distillery, learning about making whisky. He says he’s enjoying reinventing himself and he’s not making any rush decisions, but I can see he’s working towards a hybrid life of law and farming. And he’s having a blast.
Six weeks after Nick left the hospital, we take off down the road to Gretna. We don’t tell Dad where we’re going. All he knows is we’re going away for a few days. This wedding is for us alone. Nick thinks getting married at the Famous Blacksmiths Shop with strangers as witnesses is perfect, and there is plenty of time for a party later, and I agree.
We arrive at Gretna late in the day, and Nick insists on separate rooms for the night before our wedding. I had no idea he was such a romantic, but the last few weeks have shown me yet again how wrong you can be about someone.
Nick is already there as I approach the Blacksmiths Shop at eleven am on my wedding day. He’s wearing a beautiful, dark grey suit. But underneath is a vest in the MacLeod tartan. Above the vest is a face so full of love and joy I can scarcely breathe.
“How are you today,mo chridhe?” he asks, palms flattening against my belly as they always do these days, eyes searching mine. Dad is teaching him what he considers all the important words in Gaelic—my love, my heart, my darling. He still butchers the sounds, but I don’t care.
“So happy,” I sob, two fat tears leaking from my eyes.
The strangers we find to be witnesses are Canadian backpackers, so excited to be part of a real Gretna Green elopement. There’s laughing and crying and kissing and hugging—from all of us—and I don’t care it’s a cliché to say it’s the best day of my life. So far. Because I feel like the best is yet to come.
We decide not to tell our families what we’ve done until tomorrow. Today we want to stay in our own little bubble—just us and our growing baby. Nick has booked a beautiful Airbnb for us and arranged caterers to make us a spectacular lunch. Because we can, we spend the afternoon in bed doing what we love most. Pregnancy hasn’t slowed us down at all.
When he first arrived, Nick was a little wary of being too rough, but that didn’t last long. Especially after he confirmed with Lydia—much to my embarrassment—that it wouldn’t hurt the baby. Although he does whisper ‘close your ears, little one’ to my belly before he starts with the dirty talk.
Afternoon turns to evening, and we eat leftovers naked in bed before celebrating our marriage all over again.
The next morning, Nick wakes me with a coffee for himself and green tea for me.
“Ready to let the big wide world in, Mrs Pierce?” he asks.
“Do we have to?”
“No. Not if you don’t want to. But you can be the one to tell Duncan we got married and didn’t tell him for days.”
“Alright, alright. But do I at least get a shower first?”
“I think that might be best considering the state of you right now.” He grins.
Rolling out of bed, I hit the bathroom and have to acknowledge a shower—and some clothes—are essential. Ten minutes later, I find Nick settled against the headboard, his laptop on his knees.
