Epilogue
HORATIO
“So fucking sexy,” I growl, taking a step forward and reaching for her.
She ducks away, raises a disapproving eyebrow and wags her finger at me. “There is no time for that, Mr Shaw. I can’t be late for my own graduation.”
I lunge for her again. This time she lets me catch her, my arms sliding round her waist as I pull her towards me. “There’s always time,” I tell her.
“But I’m always late.” She sighs. “And this is the one time I really can’t be late, Horatio. If I’m not there to accept my certificate–”
“They’ll probably post it to you.”
“But Mum and Dad, Tiggie and Prim and Damien are all going to be there.”
I peer down into those deep emerald eyes of hers and kiss the end of her button nose. “Molly, we’re not going to be late. I won’t let that happen.”
She beams up at me. “I know. This is why we’re so right for each other. You keep me on the straight and narrow.”
“And you keep me on my toes.”
“Your hairy toes.” She giggles.
I should let her go. She’s right, we can’t be late, but my heart is fit to bursting this morning and I can’t help but tell her, “I’m so proud of you, Molly Eccleston.”
“I’m proud of myself,” she admits. “Even if it’s come, you know, a decade later than it should have.”
“You’ve worked really hard, Molly. You’ve earned this and you deserve it.”
The Witching Academy won’t let adults re-enrol into the school, but they do have night classes.
Molly’s spent the last two years working her socks off in the evenings to pass her witching exams, passing them with flying colours actually.
So much so, the witching authorities have offered her a position in the Research Department – her first real and legal job.
My little bundle of chaos and mayhem is beyond excited at the prospect of being let loose in the authorities’ laboratories.
There’s already been talk of experimenting with the highly explosive substance of Dragon’s Breath and seeing if Rainbow Dust really will make your pubes multicoloured if you ingest it.
She and Damien have been discussing it regularly.
Each time I’m left shaking my head in bewilderment, still finding it hard to believe, even after two years, in the existence of magic, witches, demons, vampires, and even – so they tell me, although I’m still not sure if they’re pulling my leg or not – dragons.
Sometimes I wake in the morning wondering if it’s all a dream. Then I peer down and find the woman of my actual dreams curled up beside me in bed and realise it is most definitely real. The real thing. The real deal. There’s nothing fake about it.
I love Molly Ecclestone just as much now as I did that first day I set eyes on her.
She’d come crashing out of her flat, her gremlin of a dog yapping around my ankles, and beamed up at me with that bright, enchanting smile of hers.
I mean, how didn’t I see it from the beginning? The girl was always magical.
And, actually, I don’t love her just as much as I did then. I love her a whole lot more, because every day I discover something new about the woman.
The fact she can’t enter a shower cubicle without singing her head off. The fact she chews through pencils at a rate of knots while she’s studying. And the way she crinkles up her nose and laughs whenever I’m fortunate enough to say something she finds funny. She’s frankly adorable.
“Come on,” she says, wriggling free of my embrace and grabbing her purse, shaking it at me furiously.
I take her hand in mine and pull her through the doorway of her flat, yelling instructions at McGruff to behave while we’re gone.
I practically live in her flat now. I’ve always preferred it to mine. It’s more homely. Or maybe it’s just the presence of the woman who owns it. I’ve moved most of my stuff across, although I have insisted on a few upgrades, fixing the central heating system and installing air conditioning.
We trot down the stairs of Heatherley Court, into the underground parking lot and into my Ferrari, Molly sighing as she sinks into the soft leather seat beside me.
As well as studying for her witching diploma, Molly’s also been studying for her transporting test. Unfortunately, she’s proved less successful at this, already failing it three more times – although I suspect that’s more to do with how much she enjoys travelling in this car and less to do with her actual capabilities.
And it’s not just travelling she’s enjoyed in this car. The woman is wild, untamable, and finds it just as hard to keep her hands off me as I do keeping my hands off her.
To my surprise, the Witching Academy is located just off Oxford Street, nestled between tourist shops and department stores. How no one has noticed the strange paranormal beings flitting in and out of this huge building is another mystery to me. I guess it must be magic of some sort.
As we drive through the heavy London traffic in search of a parking spot, I turn to the woman beside me and say, “By the way, Mom and Alan wish you good luck. They sent me a message this morning.”
“I know,” she says, grinning. “They sent me one too. And they’ve invited us for lunch on Saturday to celebrate my achievements.” She grins even wider.
A couple of years ago, I’d have groaned and moaned at the prospect of visiting my parents, particularly my stepdad.
But that’s another thing that’s changed.
Another of Molly’s influences. Maybe she’s softened my heart or softened his, or maybe she’s allowed me to see things differently.
While our relationship will never be the closest, it’s definitely better than it’s ever been.
For starters, I can stand to be in the man’s company, especially as he seems as taken with my girlfriend as I am.
After circling the academy at least five times, I manage to find a spot to squeeze into, and then we’re hurrying along the streets towards the academy, Molly hanging on to her cap, her gown streaming behind her, and her boots thudding on the side-walk.
We swing through the heavy doors and into the foyer, and then it’s time for us to part. I’ll be joining her family in the audience. Molly will be heading up on stage with all the other Witching Academy graduates.
Before she goes, though, I can’t help grabbing her hand once more and tugging her towards me.
“I have a confession to make, Molly,” I say.
She wraps her arms around my neck, oblivious to all the people milling around us – witches, vampires, shifters, and… is that a troll?
“Is this really the time for confessions?” she asks me.
“You’ve got another ten minutes, Molly. It’s fine. Relax.”
“Okay,” she says, meeting my eyes. “What’s the confession?”
“I’m selling the Ferraris.”
“What?”
“I need the money.”
“Oh no. Don’t tell me. You have a secret gambling addiction. I knew you were too perfect to be true.”
She’s teasing me, a smile hovering on her lips, her green eyes twinkling.
I shake my head. “I’m serious, Molly.”
“You need the money?” She rolls her eyes. She knows how much money is in my bank account.
“Yes. I need it for a down payment on a house.” Her brow crinkles. “Rosebud Cottage is for sale, Molly.”
She shrieks, everyone in the foyer spinning round to stare at us. “Rosebud Cottage? You want to buy Rosebud Cottage?”
“I want us to buy Rosebud Cottage.”
“You know how much I love that cottage.”
I do. She tells me every time we walk past it on our way to the Heath.
This old ramshackle cottage with its large garden nestled in a street on the way to the Heath looks like it’s been plucked straight from the countryside and deposited in Hampstead.
It looks completely out of place. But I also know it’s perfect for Molly, a girl who misses the countryside but would never concede to moving out of London, a girl who longs to grow her own herbs and her own plants.
“You’re going to buy Rosebud Cottage for me?” she says, looking absolutely gob smacked.
“Well, actually, I was going to buy it for us.”
“Us.” She practically swoons in my arms.
“Yeah,” I say. “Us. I’m kind of hoping this is it, Molly. You and me forever.”
“Oh, Horatio.” She sighs. “How can you say something like this to me when I’m just about to go up on stage in front of all those people and I’m going to have to try and remember my own name and walk in a straight line?”
“Molly,” I say, “I’m asking you to move in with me properly, permanently. I’m asking if this is the point where we can be together forever.”
“And I’m telling you yes, Horatio. One hundred per cent yes. Of course. There isn’t anybody else I want to be with.”
She drags my mouth to hers and kisses me.
A proper full-on kiss. With tongues and everything, not giving a flying toss about the people tutting behind us.
I don’t give a shit, either. I think I used to.
I think I worried a lot about what people thought of me.
Then I met Molly and she changed my life.
Now I skip the gym in favour of dog walks around the Heath with my girlfriend, I’ve ditched early morning runs for lie-ins with the woman I love, and I spend my evening with her and not trapped at the office.
I haven’t quite quit the banking job in favour of one driving trains, but there’s still time, right?
It’s only when a familiar voice tells Molly to put the human down and get her ass moving that she pulls away from our kiss. It’s hard to let her go.
“Good luck up there, Sugar Booger,” I tell her, winking.
“You think I need it?” she asks, a little nervously. “You think I should have brewed a luck potion last night after all?”
I shake my head. “You don’t need potions, Molly Eccleston. You’ve made your own luck.”
She smiles at me, blows me a kiss and hurries off and I’m left feeling like a whirlwind just struck me once again.
A wonderful, sexy, crazy whirlwind.
A wonderful, sexy, crazy whirlwind who is mine, finally mine, and all it had taken was one exploding love bomb and some very expensive toenails.
***The End***