Epilogue - Molly #2
Molly follows me downstairs after she’s peppered them both with kisses and finds me standing by the fire. The room is lit only by the flames and the soft lights on the tree. It’s intimate. Soothing.
Perfect for what I’ve got in mind.
I have my hand in my pocket.
What she doesn’t know just yet is that my fingers are ceaselessly turning over a small black velvet box.
I’ve tried to wait. Honestly, I have. I’ve mentally worked through a million proposal options. The bar is high: my brother kitted out his entire house with incredible decorations before proposing to Evelyn.
But I don’t have time for anything like that level of preparation. I just need to get a ring on Mol’s finger. Need her to promise me she’ll let me stay with her and the kids forever.
I can’t relax until she does.
She sidles over to join me at the fire. I have two freshly poured glasses of champagne standing on the mantlepiece.
‘Hey, handsome,’ she says softly.
‘Hi,’ I mouth. I can’t stop looking at her.
Couldn’t believe she was openly on my arm tonight—this golden, wondrous vision.
She’s incandescent. Otherworldly. Every guy in the place was looking at her, and I don’t blame them.
But they only see the stunning exterior.
The hot blonde with hair for miles. The silhouette of her perfect curves in that dress.
It’s what’s inside that I’m hopelessly in love with.
In the firelight, her hair glows a million shades of gold and her skin looks positively luminous.
I can’t believe I went twelve years without her.
‘What are we celebrating?’ she asks. Her smile is coy, but I can tell she doesn’t have a clue what’s coming. She’s simply flirting with me.
‘You. Me. Toby. Daisy. Together.’ I watch her face soften as I annunciate our names.
She smiles at me. ‘That sounds like the best toast ever. Cheers.’
We clink our glasses, and I can’t wait any longer.
‘Mol.’ I pull my hand, and the velvet box, out of my pocket as my other hand ditches the champagne flute. I’m shaking too hard already to hold it steady, and I need two hands for this.
Her gaze flits to my hands before shooting back up to my face, those blue eyes I love so much widening.
‘Oh my God. Max.’
‘Sweetheart.’ My voice is shaking as much as my hands. Bloody adrenalin, surging through my nervous system. It’s not like I think she’ll say no, but come on.
It’s been sixteen years since I met her in the pub. Since I found myself going back to the Queen’s Head night after night after night in the hope that the sweet server with the intriguing plait and the peaches-and-cream complexion would be on duty.
Twelve years since I allowed her, for reasons which, today, are utterly inexplicable to me, to walk away. Since I failed to give her the only thing she’s ever truly asked of me.
Five weeks since our paths collided again. It’s nothing, of course. Just the blink of an eye. But our entire existence is the blink of an eye, really, in cosmic terms. And I won’t spend another day without letting her know what she means to me.
So yeah, I’m nervous.
‘Molly Carter.’ I take her small, soft hand in my clammy one. No way am I using her married surname, but she gets it. ‘I love you so much, and I love your children, and I’m so sorry I—’
I choke up. Properly. Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me?
‘Hey.’ She dumps her flute and puts her other hand to the scruff on my cheek. ‘It’s okay, sweetie.’
I’m supposed to be blowing her away with my proposal, not fucking choking up. I sniff, hard, and pull myself together. Look her in the eye.
‘I’m sorry I ever let you walk away. I’m sorry I didn’t give you kids. But I can’t imagine that our biological kids would have been any cooler than those two upstairs. I can’t shake the feeling that they were meant to be my family—that the three of you were meant to be my family.’
‘I believe that too,’ she says. ‘It’s mind-blowing how it’s all worked out.’
Her eyes dart to the box in my hand, and I grin.
‘Sorry. Let me get to the point. I’ll ask the kids tomorrow. But right now, I’d like to ask you. Molly Carter, will you please put me out of my misery and agree to be my wife?’
Her smile nearly splits her face. ‘God, yes. Yes please.’
‘Thank fuck.’ I lower my face to hers and take in those soft, soft lips. ‘Oh, shit. The ring.’
She laughs. I’m such a twat. Jesus, how hard can it be to propose, and I’m cocking it up.
I open the box, and her eyes flare wide with recognition and surprise.
‘We can get it re-set,’ I say hurriedly. ‘I didn’t want to do anything without consulting you.’
Her hand goes to her mouth. ‘It’s your mum’s ring,’ she says on a gasp through her fingers.
‘Yeah.’
‘Oh my God. Oh my God. How—?’
Molly always adored my mum’s engagement ring, a fuck-off flawless diamond in a deco setting.
I heard her say more than once that it was her dream ring.
I never had the chance to propose to Mol, no matter how much I wanted to.
She made it clear that a marriage without kids wasn’t her idea of a marriage.
‘She left it to me in her will, because I was the only single one at the time.’ I swallow.
‘I suppose she hoped I’d find a willing recipient for it at some point, but I can’t imagine how happy she’d be to know it’s you, Mol.
They both adored you. I’m not sure they ever properly forgave me for letting you go. ’
‘She knows,’ Molly says. ‘I bet she knows. And it’s perfect. Gimme.’
She wiggles her shapely fingers, and I laugh.
Jesus Christ.
The sight of Molly with my mother’s ring on her finger.
The knowledge that her kids are upstairs. That I have a family.
It’s too much.
‘I will love you forever,’ I tell her as my face drifts down to meet hers. My hands smooth over the glorious curves of her waist and hips.
‘You’ll make the most amazing stepdad, Max,’ she tells me, her nose and lips drifting over my stubble. ‘We’ll have so much fun, the four of us.’
‘That’s the plan,’ I grit out. My hand roams up her back, finds her zipper. ‘Now, what did I say about wanting just skin and hair?’
THE END