Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
They’re calling it a heatwave. Last week it was a warm spell.
But now it’s a heatwave. More than one sunburned body is walking around the village, and I’ve already had to redo my makeup twice today because it keeps melting away.
I’m pretty sure it’s only the battered fan in the corner that’s stopping it from doing so now.
I reach for my powder just in case, only to hesitate as a burst of laughter sounds from close by.
The noise outside the tent has grown louder in the last thirty minutes.
The good weather pushed people through Kelly’s quicker than we planned, and it sounds like nearly all of them have now made their way outside, waiting for the show to begin.
Waiting for me. Abandoning my makeup, I peek through the flaps, even though I know it will just make me more nervous.
I can’t see much from where I am, just the edge of the crowd, but everyone I can see is dressed to perfection, clinking champagne flutes as they gather in small groups.
News of the festival spread far and wide last summer, and we sold out within minutes of this year’s announcement.
We were the hottest ticket in town, and everyone was excited.
Everyone except me, who feels like throwing up.
I turn back to the mirror, adjusting the straps of my dress and checking for sweat patches as Gemma slips into the tent, wearing a simple black dress and looking like she just came off the runway.
“Are you ready?”
My answering smile fools neither of us.
“It will be over before you know it,” she says, grabbing my powder brush and dabbing my upper lip.
I’d prefer it if it was over now. “Is Callum here yet?”
“He’s finding a seat for Maeve,” she says, and I nod.
Granny recovered well after her fall last year.
I thought it might have scared her a little bit, but if anything, it’s made her more active, like she’s trying to prove a point both to the doctors and to herself.
She’s stronger than ever, and I was grateful for it.
Not only because I loved her and wanted her well, but also because it meant she was able to take full control of the matchmaking this year, which meant I was able to steer clear of it. Really, it was a win for all of us.
“Just take deep breaths,” Gemma continues. “But remember the news crew is in the corner by the benches, and they have a second camera by the dance floor, so if you need to—”
“You’re not helping.”
“Right. Sorry.” She presses her lips together as Nush steps inside, holding her long glittery skirt out of the way.
“Okay, the last bus is here so we need to…oh.” Nush tilts her head, taking in my outfit with a frown. “You went with the yellow?”
“Ignore her,” Gemma says firmly. “You look beautiful.”
“I didn’t say she didn’t look beautiful,” Nush protests. “I just thought we’d decided on the teal suit.”
“I’ll be too hot in that,” I say.
“But—”
“She’s just afraid you’re going to upstage her,” Gemma says dryly, and Nush bristles.
“Well, it’s rude to upstage the bride.”
“You’re not a bride! And Monica hasn’t even said yes yet. You haven’t even asked her.”
Nush ignores her, striding forward to unclip my hair, which barely starts to fall before she twists it into an effortless braid that would take me forty minutes to accomplish and her two.
“She’s obviously going to say yes,” she mutters. “Have you seen the ring?”
We have. And it’s beautiful.
Nush and Monica have been inseparable since they met, and it was only a few months after the festival that they started living together, with Monica moving into her apartment above the salon.
She’s been planning to propose for weeks but can’t decide on how to do it, her plans growing more and more elaborate with each passing day.
She wanted to do it at the festival. Then in Paris.
Then New York. But I have a sneaking suspicion that nothing will be good enough, and she’ll end up blurting out the question one random evening when they’re both wearing sweatpants and eating takeout. Either that or Monica will ask first.
“The last bus is here,” she says to me now, a small line between her brows as she finishes off my hair. “The driver said the last drop back to the hotel is one a.m., and anyone who misses it will just have to walk. I liked him.”
The hotel. Or to use its full name, The Ennisbawn Hotel & Golf Club, the thorn in our side which opened to great fanfare two months ago, just in time for the tourist season.
They had a red carpet featuring high-heeled influencers and famous golfers, and the man who reads the news when the usual people are on their day off. And all of Ennisbawn, of course.
Everyone accepted their invitations, too curious not to, and we descended en masse on the party, with a stubborn few of us determined to hate everything in sight.
And while Nush was still emailing the hotel management about some issue or another every other week, the rest of us grudgingly admitted that it wasn’t that bad.
It was kind of nice, actually. They built a beautiful space.
Big and bright with views over the forest. Once the higher-ups changed their tune about how to deal with us, it became easier to wrangle back access to old walking routes and get included in planning decisions before they were passed and not afterward. But it was still different.
We didn’t get everything we asked for, and it would never be the village that we once knew, but we were adapting to it, we were making the best of it, and we were learning to work together.
Only right now, I really wish that I could work alone. At least for a little bit.
Nush sniffs. “Are you okay? You smell nervous.”
“How do I smell nervous?”
“You just do,” she says as my mouth drops open.
Gemma glares at her. “You’re fine. Don’t listen to her.”
“I am not fine. Nush is right. I am nervous, and you are making me more nervous, and I just need a moment to— oh, for the love of God.”
“What did I do?” Adam asks, appearing through the flaps.
“This is supposed to be my freakout tent,” I remind them, as Nush sprays perfume over my head. “Mine. My therapist said I needed space to prepare. Alone . Nush, tell them I’ll be right out. Gemma, check with Bridget if we’ve got any no-shows. Adam… Adam .”
My business partner drags his gaze away from Gemma’s dress. “What?”
I manage to hold back my smile.
Unlike Nush, who’s thrown herself headfirst into all that love has to offer, Gemma and Adam have taken things slow.
Snail pace slow. It was months before they made it official and, even then, they were so quiet about it I got scared they’d secretly called it off.
And then, early one morning I passed Gemma’s house on my way to the pharmacy and caught Adam creeping out, looking like he had just woken up.
I almost screamed in his face I was so happy, even though he acted like it was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
Even now, they’re still very much dating . Game nights, dinners, trips to the cinema. They still live apart and act the same as they always did whenever they’re in public.
But maybe that’s less because they’re trying to be low-key and more because that’s just the way it’s always been.
Adam has always been a part of Gemma’s life.
A part of Noah’s. So from the outside, it’s like they’re carrying on as normal.
It’s only if you’re looking that you notice (and I am always looking because I’m someone who’s happy for her friends but also a big giant creep).
But it’s sweet, the shared glances and the small touches, the way she heads straight over to him now as though it’s inconceivable she’d be anywhere else.
“We’re ready to go,” he says to me, as she adjusts the collar of his shirt.
“So everyone keeps telling me. Go away. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“But we need to—”
“I’m not listening,” I tell them. “I’m doing my breathing exercises and I’m not listening.”
They indulge me, one by one trickling out until I’m left alone. But my solitude barely lasts ten seconds before the tent opens again.
“I said go awa— oh. Hi.”
Callum lets the flap fall behind him, watching me with amusement. “The freakout tent is living up to its name, huh?”
“I thought you were Nush.”
“We do look alike,” he deadpans, before his eyes drop to my dress. “And you look beautiful.”
“So do you,” I say, taking in the simple black suit. I’ve never known anyone who can look as comfortable in mud-stained overalls and tailored formal wear as he does. Or pull it off as well.
“You got your notecards just in case?” he asks, and I nod.
I was giving the opening speech. I still hated public speaking though I was trying to get better at it, and while once I started talking things went okay, it was the waiting beforehand that made me spiral.
“A missive from my brother,” Callum adds, handing me his phone.
Best of luck. Jack.
“How sweet,” I say dryly, passing it back to him.
But I kind of mean it. I’ve learned a lot about Jack in the past year, and while I wouldn’t say we were firm friends, we weren’t exactly enemies either.
He’d left Glenmill a few months after Gerald threw him under the bus, took precisely one week off, and then started work at an equally impressive company at an equally high position.
He’s now working on some luxury apartment development in Dublin, but comes down to visit surprisingly often, sometimes going so far as to sleep on Callum’s couch when he ends up staying too late to drive back.
Coming downstairs to him snoring away is something I don’t think I’ll ever get used to, but it’s kind of nice to know he’s as human as the rest of us.
I moved into Callum’s farmhouse six months ago.
He wanted it to happen a lot sooner, but he was patient with me, knowing it was a big step for me to leave Granny and the house I grew up in.
But when the time finally did come, it felt easy.
It felt right. I fit into his space as effortlessly as he fit into mine and it wasn’t until I had it that I realized how much I craved waking up to him at the start of the day, how much I wanted to kiss him goodnight at the end of it.
Being with him was as easy as breathing and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
He was a huge support when I took on the extra responsibilities at the pub, and in return I got to be there for him when he did exactly what he said he was going to, taking a few guys he trusted from Glenmill, and starting a business of his own.
I don’t think a day goes by when he’s not excitedly updating me about some new deal he’s struck or an abandoned building he’s found.
It makes my heart sing that’s he happy, and even more so that I get to be a part of it.
“Katie?”
“Yeah?”
“You keep looking at me like that and you’re definitely going to be late,” he says, and I blush, turning back to the mirror for one final check.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.” A lie.
“Will I ruin your makeup if I kiss you?”
“No.” Another lie, but I don’t care, meeting his lips with my own and taking comfort in the familiar.
“You’ve got this,” he whispers, and takes my hand, pulling me outside to where Nush is waiting.
She hands me a microphone with a beaming smile and Callum gives my hand one final squeeze before I climb the few steps to the makeshift stage where Danny’s band waits to start playing.
It’s one of those perfect summer evenings, the heat of the day finally fading as the sun sets and twilight takes over. Swaths of pink and purple streak across the sky and the lanterns which Adam and Noah had spent a whole day putting up glow with warm yellow light.
Hundreds of pairs of eyes gaze up at me, and among them I pick out my friends and neighbors among them. My family. My people.
Callum takes position at the front, winking when our gazes meet, but the moment is ruined a second later when Nush joins him and gestures to her chest. Boobs out , she mouths, and I smile as I turn my gaze to the crowd and turn on the microphone.
“My name is Katie Collins,” I say, holding my head high. “And on behalf of the people of this village, I’d like to welcome you all to the annual Ennisbawn Matchmaking Festival.”
* * *
If you’re in the mood to laugh until you cry once again, with another perfect feel-good romantic comedy by Catherine Walsh about taking a chance on love, look no further than Holiday Romance .
Get it here or keep reading for an exclusive extract.