‘Mad fool,’ Rocco whispered in my ear as we stood before the newly betrothed couple, while a whole array of cameras flashed in their direction.
I looked up at him.
‘Letting you go like that. Still, his loss is my gain,’ he said, kissing me gently on my forehead.
Rocco was on his best behaviour that day and even managed to act in a civil and friendly way towards Martin. Later that year, Mum and Dad announced, after a few months back home, that they were unsettled and bored with the life they’d returned to and wanted to take off again, this time touring Europe in a camper van. Before they went, though, they wanted to renew their marriage vows as they’d been together for thirty years.
They wanted something intimate and personal with only close friends and family invited. After a blessing at the local church, we all went back to the Painted Lady, which had been festooned with ribbons and balloons. We shared champagne and canapés, expertly prepared by me and Rocco. I was beginning to pick up a few tips after my months with him.
And this was my very favourite wedding of the year. Poignant too, knowing that we would be saying our goodbyes to Mum and Dad again, as they disappeared off on their travels.
Our own wedding, which we’d planned for Christmas of that year to coincide with the first anniversary of us getting together, never actually came to fruition. I thought long and hard before calling it off, but really under the circumstances I had no other choice. Rocco was disappointed and tried to persuade me otherwise, but in the end he knew that opposition was futile.
Throwing up half a dozen times a day isn’t really conducive to the blooming bride look I’d so wanted to achieve.
One year on, in the following December, after losing my pregnancy pounds and gaining beautiful twin girls, Phoebe and Mary, we finally married at Whitefriars with our six-month-old daughters in attendance as flower girls.
It was the most lovely, beautiful sunny day. All our friends and family were there. Mum and Dad interrupted their grand adventure to come home, Martin and Sue came down from Yorkshire, Pandora and Zak added more than a dash of the necessary glamour, Sylvia fussed around everyone, Millie included, adopting the role of the groom’s mother and Lexi, blooming in her heavily pregnant state, with Mitch in attendance, made it a day to remember.
Really, was it any wonder that we all had every intention of living Happily Ever After?
THE END
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About the author Jill Steeples lives with her husband, two children and a high maintenance English Pointer called Amber in a lovely house, surrounded by Monkey Puzzle trees, in the English countryside. When she’s not writing, she loves spending time with family and friends, and enjoys reading (of course) films, musical theatre, walking, baking and eating cakes, and drinking wine.
She is the author of four romantic comedy novels and her short stories have appeared in anthologies and women’s magazines around the world.
www.jillsteeples.co.uk
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