Epilogue
Molly stood at the window of Luka and CeCe’s guest suite and gazed out over the garden to the tennis court beyond. Outside, a soft breeze rustled through the trees surrounding the property, and puffs of white cloud added atmosphere to an otherwise blue sky. She’d stayed with them for only a week, but so much had happened in that short time that she’d scarcely had a second to think about the path she’d chosen to step onto.
The day before, around dusk, Molly had driven out to the cemetery alone, not only to find some solitude but also to say goodbye. And as she sat cross-legged on the grass at the foot of Jesse’s grave, a sense of peacefulness surfaced. She’d made the right decision; of that, she had no doubt.
She checked her makeup in the mirror while Mitch and Tayla’s little girl, Storm, played with LEGO at her feet, chatting away to herself as she built her own make-believe world. It made Molly reflect on how fortunate she was to be able to build a world for herself. Many women never had that chance.
A soft knock at the door had her turn. Valentina, a young designer friend of the Harringtons, stepped into the room, a cream satin garment bag across one arm and an oversized tote over the other. “Hi, hello. How are we doing? All good?”
Molly nodded. “All good. But do you have your sewing kit on you? Storm has a loose button.”
Valentina laid the bag on the bed and stood back in admiration. “Storm Harrington. Look at you! So pretty.”
The little girl got to her feet. “But I got a wonky button.”
“That’s an easy fix.” Valentina rummaged in her bag and pulled out a sewing kit. With needle and thread in hand, she turned Storm around and secured the offending button in less than a minute. “There you go, sweetie. Now let me see.”
Storm did a shy twirl, then returned to her LEGO.
Valentina smiled at Molly. “Are you ready for this?”
Molly nodded. “I’m ready.”
The younger woman raised a brow. “What’s with that blue G-string lurking underneath your slip?”
“Midnight blue is Jake’s favorite color, so it’s my something blue. Will it be visible through my dress?”
“We’ll see.” Valentina chuckled. “And that is entirely too much information, but I like your style.” She picked up the garment bag and unzipped it. “Right, let’s get this dress to the party.”
Minutes later, with Valentina fussing around her, Molly stood in front of the mirror, her fifties-inspired dress skimming her upper curves before falling into a full skirt from the waist. Valentina stepped back to admire her own handiwork before adjusting the bow on the back. “That blush color looks amazing on you. Suits your skin tone really well.”
“Yes, I love it.” Feeling more beautiful than she had in her entire life, Molly turned left, then right. “Can you see the G-string?”
“Nope. Not at all.” Valentina peeked through the window and across to the tennis court. “That tent is huge. I thought you said it was just an intimate affair.”
“It was supposed to be, but…”
“Well, you look stunning. I’m so happy for you both.”
“Thank you. You’ve done an incredible job.”
“My pleasure. I’ll see you in the garden.” As Valentina began gathering her bits and pieces and shoving them into her bag, Tim, the photographer, knocked on the open door.
“Is it okay if I just hover about?” he asked.
Molly smiled. “Of course it is.” She crossed the room and opened the door to the small guest living room. “Mum, you can come in now.”
Wearing mother-of-the-bride floral, Molly’s mother gasped when she saw her daughter. “Now that’s what I call a dress! Oh, darling, you look sensational.”
They both leaned in for a hug. “Thanks, Mum.” She looked down at her mother, now in tears, and rubbed her back. “Hey, you promised not to cry.”
“I promised no such thing. Weddings and tears go together so well, don’t you think?”
“Of course they do.”
Molly checked the time on her phone, and when she looked up, her father stood in the doorway, tall and distinguished-looking in a charcoal-gray suit. He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his eyes. Molly had seen her mother cry many times, but never her father, and as he hugged her, she swallowed past the lump in her throat.
He stood back in admiration. “My little girl’s getting married. I’m so proud to be your father, of the woman you’ve become, and the way you love so completely.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she whispered as she blinked back her tears.
“Right, let’s get this show on the road,” he said.
“But what about the flowers?” her mother said.
Right at that moment, CeCe breezed into the room, a long cardboard box in her arms. “Good news. The flowers have arrived, finally.”
Molly crossed the room and lifted Storm’s posy from the box, and as CeCe busied herself with her aunt’s corsage and uncle’s buttonhole, she opened the card attached to her bouquet by a midnight-blue ribbon.
Dear Molly,
Remember when I told you that Jesse sent me an angel when he left? Well, I’m so very grateful for his gift.
Therefore, in honor of my brother, who we both loved in our own way, I asked the florist to slip something borrowed into your bouquet.
Let’s make this day perfect, mon ange.
I love you,
Jake.
Ignoring her family’s questioning looks, Molly picked up the large bouquet of white roses interwoven with olive branches and found Jesse’s drumsticks nestled amongst the blooms.
His last autograph.
Molly smiled up at her father, who winked back at her, and as they left the house and walked across the deck and onto the back lawn, her parents on either side of her, CeCe behind, and Storm leading the way, she had to pinch herself.
Everything had moved so fast. In less than a week, they’d leave for the UK as a married couple, and as Jake turned to look at her, standing proud in his midnight-blue suit, Molly had only one thought.
Jesse had also sent her an angel when he left, and for that, she was truly thankful.
Beneath a row of liquid ambers, the hydrangeas now in full summer bloom and the grass velvet beneath their feet, both sides of the family gathered with their friends for the late afternoon ceremony. Jake cast an eye around at their guests. Of everyone they’d invited, not a single person had declined.
As Molly walked toward him in her vintage-style dress, Jake relaxed. Their gazes lingered, and when his mother took his hand on one side and his dad on the other, Jake couldn’t hold back his tears at the sight of her.
It had been Molly’s idea to forgo tradition. With some gentle persuasion from Jake, Molly and his mother had come to an understanding over the past few months, and instead of Molly’s parents giving her away, a concept that seemed outdated to them both, the Sinclair and Parker families would now walk down the aisle together to symbolize their support of the union.
They’d enjoyed a perfect spring and early summer as a couple, Jake giving Molly surfing lessons and Molly teaching him how to improve his cheese scone recipe. And in the time since they’d talked in the tiny house that night, Jake couldn’t have been happier.
He stepped forward and gently kissed her on both cheeks. “You look amazing. Perfect, in fact.”
“Thank you, Chef Sinclair. So do you.”
“Where’s your something blue?”
Molly winked. “I’ll show you later.” She leaned in close and whispered, “Did you manage to finish the croquembouche? I can’t wait to try it.”
“Of course. Well, with Ari’s help. I have to say, I’ve never met anyone as excited by choux pastry as you are.”
“Is that why you love me?”
“Just one of the many reasons.” Jake motioned to the aisle. “Shall we walk?”
“I think we should.”
The End.