Epilogue
One year later
“I hope if I ever find someone to love, that they obsessively watch out of windows when they know I’m coming home,” Niamh said with a dreamy smile.
“When you find someone to love,” Imogen said as she walked back behind the bar again and slumped against it. “And it’s been four days. It’s normal to miss the love of your life after four whole days apart.”
“Come on. You and Amelia miss each other after four minutes apart,” Piper said.
Imogen went to argue but then realised it was true, so she just shrugged instead.
“Is she enjoying the job in London?” Niamh asked.
“Kind of. The filming schedule is a bitch, but at least it means she gets home most weekends,” Imogen said. “Though it will be even better when she starts that film in Belfast in the spring.”
“Did I read somewhere that Bridget Clemonte is going to be in that one too?” Piper asked.
“There’s talk of her taking on one of the smaller parts if she can fit it in between her other projects.
” Imogen suspected that Amy was secretly happy about having Bridget there with her.
She said it felt weird having no one to bicker with in London after working with Bridget on two films straight—her way of saying she missed Bridget.
They weren’t the kind of warm and fuzzy friends who told each other that type of thing though.
Hurling insults was more their love language.
Piper and Niamh started to smile about something—like they knew something she didn’t.
“What?” Imogen said. “You guys know I hate it when you do that. That wee secret look thing. We’re a trio, don’t forget. Always.” She felt a tap on her shoulder and whirled around. “Amy!”
“Hey, beautiful,” Amy said, standing right in front of her with a wide grin.
Imogen instinctively went to hug her, but stopped herself at the last second and planted her hands on her hips. “You’re such a sneak. I’ve been watching out that front window for you all day so I could run out and kiss you when you got here.”
“What?” Amy said innocently. “Can I not surprise my girlfriend by sneaking in the back door so I can see that adorable look on your face?”
Imogen softened and smiled. “When you put it that way, you absolutely can.” She leaned forward and kissed her softly. “Best surprise ever,” she whispered against Amy’s lips.
“I hope you two aren’t going to stand there all night kissing and making heart eyes at each other across the room,” Piper said. “We have a fully booked evening ahead.”
“It’s as if they all knew Amelia was coming home today,” Niamh said, knowing full well that most of them did. This was Ballyluck after all. Word travelled like the wind.
“The worst kept secret ever,” Imogen added with a sigh. Busy was always great, but busy also meant it would be hours until she and Amy got any time alone. Such was the life of a successful pub owner.
Piper pointed to Amy. “Don’t you even think about sneaking upstairs again like last week. Once you’ve satisfied all your adoring fans with selfies and smiles, you’ll be pitching in to help.” Thankfully, Piper no longer turned into a flustered disaster around her.
“Put me to work,” Amy said happily. “Imogen taught me all about cheese arranging and salami logistics. Though once you start with the newer, more complicated stuff, I may struggle.”
“There’s not that much more,” Imogen said reassuringly.
With demand higher than ever these days, they’d had to expand the menu a bit.
They still tried to keep it simple, so their options were now extended to platters, pizzas, and pies.
All the good Ps. Along with One Pint Willy’s beloved stew, of course.
Now a staple of the Wishing Well menu, no matter the season.
“Speaking of—the new menu boards look great,” Amy said, eyeing them beside the bar. She didn’t let go of Imogen’s hand when she walked over to study them, so Imogen trailed along and admired them too.
“You like them? The lettering is all very matchy with our style.” That’s right, they had a style now. Contemporary classic, they liked to call it.
Imogen took a moment to look around and take in everything they had managed to achieve in the Wishing Well in the past year. Some of the original features were still there. The stone fireplace—an integral part of the pub. After all, traditional was still very much a part of their vision.
With that in mind, they had kept the wooden beams that criss-crossed the white stone ceiling.
The original floors were there, just sanded and revarnished by their own fair hands—that had been a week.
Some of the wood panelling on the walls remained, though now painted.
They’d stuck with the quirky signs on the walls too.
In fact, they’d added even more over the past year.
Funny slogans and ridiculous sayings that customers—especially the newbies—always seemed to get a kick out of.
But there had been changes too. Upgrades.
All the tables and chairs were new. A mixture of vintage and modern, booths and bistro style.
They had also redesigned the bar itself—a major improvement.
Gone was the dull mahogany lined with its shabby stools.
In its place was a rebuilt, fashionable bar that wouldn’t look out of place in one of the trendier bars in Belfast with its chic design and fabulous downlights.
The new stools were smooth green velvet, and actually comfortable to sit in, unlike a lot of barstools.
It looked like a pub you’d want to spend time in—and people did. Hail, rain, or shine. It was cosy, welcoming, but a wee bit snazzy too.
She smiled and turned to Amy. “Do you fancy a dander before it gets busy?”
“I would love to,” Amy said, gripping her hand. “I’ve missed Ballyluck, especially after being stuck in the hustle and bustle of London all week. I’d like to enjoy the peace and quiet for a few minutes.”
“Be careful,” Niamh called out after them. “Connor is still adamant he’s going to show you his new stamps when he sees you, Amelia. He’s added quite a few to his collection. I know, because I’ve been shown in great detail. He says there are some American ones in there that you would die for.”
Amy grimaced. “Oh wow. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Oh, and, guys? While you’re out could you pick up some more firecracker jam off Sally?” Piper shouted over. “And not one of your big walks, Immy. Bookings start in an hour.”
“Yes, boss,” Imogen replied, giving her a sarcastic salute—which was met with a dirty look and the finger.
They pushed out the front door and Imogen took a breath. “Just us. Finally.”
Well, almost just them. They waved over at the two bodyguards stationed in the car across from the Wishing Well—they’d be a lot busier once word spread that Amelia Whitlock was back home.
Amy’s security team were now a permanent fixture.
Her ever-rising fame made it a necessity for both of their safety.
Mainly Amy’s. Imogen might not be famous, but she did make it to some fancy red carpet events these days—talk about self-growth.
Unfortunately, there was no Steve on the security team these days—he was back home with his wife. But the new guys were good too. They tried not to encroach on their space too much, and Amy had a panic button if she needed them. Such was the new normal.
“Just us is my absolute favourite,” Amy said, leaning over to kiss Imogen’s cheek. “Although I love your friends too. They’re special.”
“As much as you love me?” Imogen replied, playfully bumping Amy’s hip with her own. It made her happy that Amy cared about Piper and Niamh too. She knew the feeling was mutual. Amy was a welcome addition to their group. Their family, really.
Amy pulled Imogen closer and wrapped an arm around her and kept it there as they walked. “As if I could ever love anyone as much as I love you.”
As they strolled past the well, Amy stopped and gave it a little pat with her gloved hand. “Thanks, well.”
Imogen laughed. “Did you really just thank the well?”
Amy lifted a shoulder. “I always do it. It granted my wish for you so I’m eternally grateful to that well, I’ll have you know.”
In that case. “Thanks, well,” Imogen called out behind her. When she turned around Amy was staring at her knowingly. “What?”
“You’re thanking the well. Which means your wish must have come true.”
“Yeah, it did,” Imogen said. “And?”
“And you never told me what your wish was,” Amy said. She lifted her eyebrows in question.
“Because it’s against the rules.”
“But I told you mine.”
“And then we almost broke up immediately after,” Imogen reminded her.
Amy’s jaw dropped. “You can’t blame the well for that.”
“Nah, I prefer to blame Bridget.”
“Me too,” Amy said.
They shared a smile. Neither of them really blamed Bridget at all. The truth was people were imperfect, and relationships were a journey.
In the beginning, some of their choices had been messy, on both sides.
And parts of their journey had been rocky for sure.
But they’d gone through the hard parts and come out stronger for it.
More certain. More honest. More willing to fight for each other instead of walking away.
And if there were any more bumps along the road ahead, they were ready for them now. Together. Always together.
“So, tell me,” Amy said, giving her those ridiculous puppy eyes of hers. “Did you wish for me?”
“No,” Imogen said. Amy looked genuinely scandalised and Imogen started to laugh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t. I didn’t think I needed to wish for you because we were already together at that point.”
“Then what did you wish for?” Amy asked with intrigue. “Come on, now you have to tell me.”
Imogen relented. “I wished that no matter what happened, you and I would find our way and live happily ever after together.”
Amy stopped walking and turned to Imogen, taking her hands. “So, both our wishes came true then.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Imogen’s, the touch warm and soft in contrast to the chilly air around them. When they pulled apart all they could do was smile at each other.
Amy tilted her head. “I still think that totally counts as a variation of you wishing for me though.”
Imogen shook her head and laughed, pulling Amy along in the direction of the main street past the familiar multicoloured buildings. “You divas. Always making it all about you.”
Amy grinned. “Nah, I’d prefer to keep it all about us.”
“Now that sounds perfect.”