‘For a long time, I thought compatibility was just being identical, but I understand now that it’s not just that. It’s about understanding each other, trusting each other. I don’t always understand you, but I want to, so much.’
A sob lodges in my throat.
‘I love you, Dolly Doherty,’ she whispers, just for me. ‘You’re my golden Goddess. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever known, and will go to every length to protect your people. You’re the woman who can see through every wall I try to hide behind. And I want to show you it all, forever. Nobody is going to love anyone like we love each other. We might be liars, but we can be something much more to each other. I think, together, we could make a perfect team. You feel like a home to me, Dolly. Will you be my home?’
‘Always,’ I promise.
And then, she throws herself into my arms.
Our kiss is a promise, and just for us, even if I know it’s being filmed. I don’t care. She is all I’ve ever wanted, and I can’t believe that I now have her.
My girl. My home.
When we break apart, Carys has a mischievous look on her face. ‘Shall we… get married while we’re here?’
I almost drop her. ‘You want to—?’
‘Sorry, your mum isn’t here. That was silly.’
‘Oh, she is!’ shouts Warren, waving his phone. ‘Her Uber’s pulling up in ten minutes.’
‘Iesu Grist,’ Carys gasps. ‘How much was that?’
‘Warren, you didn’t,’ I cry.
‘Moira insisted,’ he says. ‘I’ll go get everyone back inside.’ And with that he sprints off, corralling confused family and friends.
That’s when I realise Patrick and Peony are also here, standing by the cameras.
‘I think,’ I say, putting Carys down carefully, ‘that you have some things to talk about first.’
Chapter FortyCarys
My heart is still racing from all the ill-advised running and declarations and kissing I’ve done in the last few minutes.
I can’t believe what’s happened, what’s happening.
My sisters stand behind the cameraman dancing and laughing and are so full of the joy that I feel within my own heart.
But there’s one last thing I need to do.
‘Hi,’ I say to Patrick and Peony as I walk over. ‘Sorry, what a way to meet for the first time.’
‘Well, it’s kind of my fault,’ Peony says, offering her hand for me to shake. I take it because, well, why not shake hands with your future ex-fiancé’s ex-girlfriend-slash-future fiancée. ‘I rather fucked up your wedding. But it seems like maybe it was for the best?’
I look at Patrick, and I can see the hurt and confusion there, muddled among the relief. ‘Can I borrow your boyfriend for a moment?’ I ask Peony, who flushes a little at the word, but it feels right to be honest about the situation. ‘I promise I won’t try to marry him again.’
To my relief, they both share a smile. ‘That would be quite a pickle,’ chortles Peony.
Patrick and I walk back over to the folly, and we sit on the parapet together, away from everyone else.
Well, except the cameras. But our entire romantic relationship has been on film; why not the end too?
‘You heard all that, huh?’ I say.
‘Most of it, yeah,’ he replies. ‘It… explains a lot.’
‘Which bit?’
