by Lucy Hepburn
Molly hadn’t thought of this.
“I’ll do it if you like,” she suggested.
Caitlin smiled at her. “I knew you’d say that, but you’ve got a job already. I’ve always known who my only bridesmaid was going to be at my wedding, and that’s one dream I’m going to hang onto, if you don’t mind.”
“That’s the nicest knock-back I’ve ever had,” Molly admitted.
“And you’ll do less damage behind me than beside me.”
“That’s more like it!”
Caitlin sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “How much longer?” she asked.
Molly checked her watch. “Thirty minutes. Oh! I nearly forgot; I’ve got a present for you!”
“You do? Then what are we waiting for?”
Arm-in-arm, Molly and Caitlin giggled their way back to Molly’s room. Molly’s hands trembled as she handed over the little velvet box from the auction.
Caitlin’s eyes lit up as she lifted the lid and saw the delicate amber drop earrings. “Ooh! These are gorgeous!” She flung her arms round Molly’s neck. “You legend! I adore them!”
Caitlin had walked over to the mirror and took out her little gold ear studs. “Let’s see, shall we?” Carefully, she tried on the amber earrings and turned toward Molly. “Well?”
“I have to say…” Molly began as Caitlin turned back toward the mirror.
“Perfect!” Caitlin cried, giving a little clap.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to wear them today.”
“Don’t you dare make me take them off. They’re antique, aren’t they? Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue…they can be my ‘something old.’”
She reached across and once again untwisted the fine crystal shoulder strap on Caitlin’s gown. “I’ll keep an eye on that strap. ‘Untwisting straps’ is definitely on a bridesmaid’s to-do list.” Then she nodded her approval. “You’ll do.”
Caitlin smiled. Molly had never seen her sister look so radiant. “Thanks, Molly. Truly.”
Molly looked away. There it was again—that hollow pang of loneliness. She knew that today was not about her, but still, how lovely it would have been if she’d had her own special somebody to share it with.
Caitlin seemed to pick up on Molly’s mood. “Oh, you poor thing—this must be tough for you.”
“Don’t be daft!” Molly replied far too brightly. The last thing she wanted was to cast any shadows on her sister’s happiness. “I’m fine!”
Caitlin reached over and touched Molly’s cheek. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and Reggie,” she said softly.
Molly looked up at her sister in surprise, wondering whether to admit that it wasn’t Reggie who was occupying her thoughts. “The thing is—”
There was a knock on the door. Molly and Caitlin looked at one another.
“Mum?” Caitlin said.
“No, she’s in her seat already.”
Caitlin tutted. “Well, you tell Francesco he can’t see me yet!”
“I’ll sort it.” Molly crossed the room and leaned close to the door. “Go away!” she said in a mock-stern voice.
There was no answer.
Caitlin laughed. “This is what he does when he’s trying to get his way,” she whispered. “The silent treatment.”
“Urm, sorry, Francesco,” Molly continued, “but you can’t come in. There are rules about these things.”
Again, no response. Molly looked at Caitlin, who had her hands on her hips.
Molly tried once more. “I know you’re still there, Francesco. But if you think—”
“Molly?”
The voice on the other side of the door was most definitely not Francesco’s.
Molly took a step backward.
Simon.
“You okay, Molly?” Caitlin asked. “You’ve gone a bit pale.”
It couldn’t be.
In a trance, Molly went back to the door, opened it a tiny crack, and peered out into the hallway.
Then after a moment, she closed it again, slowly turned round, and looked at Caitlin.
Simon.
“Molly?” Caitlin was frowning now. “You’re freaking me out.” She stormed toward the door and opened it herself. “Who’s there?”
Molly was too stunned to speak.
Simon. Wonderful Simon. So handsome, so nice, so caring, Simon. She thought she’d never see him again. But there he was, standing in the door of her sister’s hotel room, his blue eyes and messy blond hair, just as lovely as when she first saw him on the plane all those hours ago.
“H…hello, Simon,” she stammered.
“Hello, Molly.”
He was wearing a suit. And he looked great in it. Not that Molly had much of a chance to admire it as he immediately put his arms around her and kissed her slowly on the lips.
My, but he was a good kisser. Molly, surrendering herself to the moment, let her arms snake around his neck, finally able to caress the nape of his neck after so many hours studying it—longingly, she now realized—from the back of the Cinquecento. She held him tightly, savoring the closeness of his body and the heat of his breath.
“Would you like me to leave?” an amused voice called out from the other side of the room.
Simon and Molly broke apart and looked across the room. The happy fog that was clouding Molly’s brain cleared to remind her that her sister was standing right there: gorgeous in her wedding dress, hands still on hips, giving them a wry look. “Because if you’re planning to be doing that for a while you’re going to have to move from the door. I kind of have something to do today.”
“Simon,” was all Molly managed to say as she gestured to the man in her arms.
“I wondered.”
“I’m sorry,” Simon said, “I didn’t notice you.”
Caitlin’s jaw dropped, faking a hurt look.
Simon slapped his forehead. “That may be the most un-gallant thing I will ever say in my entire lifetime, to anyone, let alone to a bride on her wedding day.” He crossed the room and offered his hand. “I’m so sorry, Caitlin. I’m Simon. Congratulations. You look really beautiful also.”
“You’re forgiven, but only just,” Caitlin answered, wagging her finger teasingly, before kissing his cheek. “It’s nice to meet you. I can see you and Molly know each other rather well.”
“Caitlin—” Molly began, but her sister interrupted, giving her an award-winning older-sister look.
“You’re a dark horse! If I’d known about Simon I’d have asked him to the wedding! But hang on, what about Re…” she tailed off with an awkward grimace and shot Molly a panicked look.
“It’s complicated,” Molly mumbled before thinking about what she had just said. “Actually—no, it’s not complicated at all, it’s fairly straightforward.” She looked into Simon’s eyes. “Reggie and I had been together for a long time, but we broke up in Paris the night before I met you. Things hadn’t been right for a long while. And we were never engaged.”
Simon took a few moments to absorb the information then he nodded. “It’s fine,” he said simply.
“And then I met you and it was—”
“I said, it’s fine,” he finished. “I don’t care about the past—even the recent past—I just want to be with you.”
Relief flooded through Molly as she reached up and kissed him lightly on the lips. So. Now he knew everything. And he was still here.
“So how did you two get together, then?” Caitlin asked, but Molly pointed to the bedside clock then held her hands up.
“Some other time, maybe?” she suggested. “Minor event to attend downstairs?”
“Good point.” Caitlin went over to the mirror and began checking her make-up one last time.
“I should get out of your way,” Simon said.
“How did you find us?” Molly asked, ignoring this.
“Pascal,” Simon replied.
&
nbsp; That man! Molly thought to herself. Her fairy godfather.
“Something borrowed!” Caitlin burst out, taking Simon and Molly by surprise. They looked at her, mystified.
Then Molly realized. “Oh, of course! You haven’t got anything borrowed, have you? Here, take my bracelet.” She began fiddling with the catch of the tiny silver chain around her wrist. “I’m not sure if it will go with the dress but you’re welcome—”
“Not quite what I meant,” said Caitlin. “But thanks.”
She walked across and touched Simon on the arm. “Would you be so kind as to walk me down the aisle, Simon?”
Shocked, Simon looked at Molly, who grinned at them, full of pride and happiness.
“It’s not far, I won’t tire you out,” Caitlin told him. “And I’ll give you back to Molly in just a few minutes.”
“I’d be honored,” Simon said, standing up straight and adjusting his tie.
Molly picked up Caitlin’s bouquet and handed it to her. Solemnly, Simon offered his arm, and Caitlin took it. Molly opened the door for them to go through then picked up the tiny posy of flowers she’d picked for herself and took her place behind them.
“Ready?” she whispered.
Ahead of her, Caitlin nodded just once. Simon darted a quick look over his shoulder at Molly and smiled. Molly thought she might burst with happiness.
Calm, calm, calm. This was Caitlin’s day, and even though Molly’s world had just changed forever—she was certain of that—she was determined to concentrate one hundred per cent on her sister today—at least until she was safely married and handed over to Francesco who waited nervously downstairs.
Caitlin paused at the top of the stairs.
Molly was standing behind her and Simon. “You okay?” she asked.
Caitlin nodded.
“Well?” Molly gave Simon an anxious look. What was up with her?
“I love you, sis,” Caitlin said. “Just wanted to say.”
“Don’t make me cry, not now,” Molly whispered. “But I love you too.”
They had glided halfway down the stairs when Molly had a sudden thought.
“Stop!” she shrieked.
Caitlin jumped, and she and Simon wheeled round to look at her.
“What’s happened?” Caitlin squeaked.
“Something old, something new, something borrowed…you haven’t got anything blue!”
Caitlin smiled, leant in, and whispered, “Molly, you didn’t look very closely at the ribbon on my garter, did you?”
“Phew,” Molly grinned, catching Simon’s eye.
“Guess I’m just going to have to speculate on where that something blue might be,” he said, blushing. He gestured to the staircase. “Shall we?”
“We certainly shall,” Molly replied with a smile. She had the date she wanted for the wedding. It was going to be the best ever.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
If Molly was totally honest with herself in the future, she would have to say that the most touching thing about Caitlin’s wedding wasn’t the joy on her mother’s face as she watched her beautiful elder daughter walk, beaming, down the aisle to marry the man of her dreams.
It wasn’t the thrill of seeing a couture Pascal Lafayette (formerly known as a couture Delametri Chevalier) gown, at close range, do its devastating work in showing the world how craftsmanship and subtle artistic genius can come together to make something so seemingly simple transcend beauty with its sheer timeless perfection.
It wasn’t even Simon, taking his duties so touchingly seriously as he escorted Caitlin into the room and down the miniature aisle toward the kindly priest.
It was Francesco. The man, who until today, Caitlin had viewed with a sense of suspicion which bordered on contempt, was completely bowled over with love and admiration for his bride-to-be as she floated toward him. His face was full of emotion, yet he held it together, smiling broadly, standing just that little bit taller, bursting with pride, as she approached. If he wondered who the man leading his bride down the aisle was, he never showed it. Molly suspected that he never even noticed Simon; he was transfixed on Caitlin.
There were only a dozen people in the room. In the front row, Francesco’s mother was clasping Molly’s mother’s hand; handkerchiefs were being deployed, even Francesco’s father shed a tear, and his grandmother opened her eyes, paused in her prayers, and wept.
This is how it should be, Molly decided. This is the real thing.
The ceremony was brief but touching. Francesco must have given the priest advance information about the two of them before the service; he spoke in Italian and then English. And at the moment Caitlin and Francesco were announced to be husband and wife, there wasn’t a single person in the room not dabbing tears from their eyes. Caitlin and Francesco seemed illuminated in a glow of sheer joy, and as Francesco turned and shook Simon’s hand, Molly felt supremely happy.
The ceremony over, it was time for everyone to step outside for photographs. Caitlin and Francesco, overjoyed to be finally married, made their way back down the aisle, and Molly shyly waited for Simon to come and claim her.
Only he didn’t. Instead, he leaned down toward her mother and asked how she was and if he could escort her to a seat outside. Molly was touched beyond words.
“Excusez-moi!” Pascal cut in, placing himself between Simon and her mother. “But this lady is spoken for!”
Simon gallantly stepped aside to let Pascal, dripping with rediscovered Parisian charm, carefully help her mother to her feet and support her as she moved outside.
“Molly?” Simon was looking at her in a way that made her heart melt.
“Go on then,” she smiled, taking his arm.
Outside, the sun was dazzlingly bright, which made the pretty garden the perfect place to sit and watch the handsome couple being photographed by Francesco’s family.
Finally, Molly and Simon were alone together. They walked to the furthest-away garden seat and sat down, suddenly awkward.
“Lovely wedding,” Simon murmured.
“Thank you so much for helping out,” Molly replied. “It’s…it’s so good to see you!”
“You too.”
“Shouldn’t you be at the Film Festival with your friends? Yvonne?”
He nodded. “Probably.”
“Then why aren’t you?”
“Because I’d rather be here.”
Molly narrowed her eyes.
“Okay, well, yes, I made it to the screening yesterday, and it was pretty good, I think.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“Okay, it was better than pretty good actually. Feedback’s been amazing, and I’ve got a couple of meetings lined up to discuss my next project. They seem pretty keen to let me do it my way after watching Yvonne’s documentary, and funding doesn’t seem to be a problem!”
“That’s brilliant! You’re brilliant!” Molly threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. It felt exceptionally nice as he pulled her close. “Congratulations!” She drew back and looked at him. “Shouldn’t you be partying with the crew, or whatever you call them all?”
“I’m partying here, thanks,” he said, looking in her eyes. “There’s a bit of a presentation thing this evening, but I’ve got it covered. Yvonne and the others will go. They can send pictures.”
Molly could not believe how much he had given up to be with her. “You sure?”
He nodded.
But Molly knew how much she would give up the same for him. More. Molly had been burning to ask a question ever since Simon had walked back into her life. “Simon?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you come back? You must have left thinking I was some kind of two-timing…some kind of…I don’t know…”
He pulled her into him and smiled at her. “I spoke to your mum.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I called from Venice to check up on her—maybe it was a bit presumptuous o
f me because we only met two days ago, but I was worried about her.”
Molly kissed him shyly on the lips. “That was nice of you.”
“I had to put my mind at rest before my big Venice moment, didn’t I? Anyhow, she told me you weren’t engaged, and that the two of you had broken up.” He looked away then back at her. “I think that was where I was meant to say ‘sorry to hear that’ or something, but I actually wasn’t sorry at all.”
Molly couldn’t look at him. “Four years, Simon. That’s how long we’d been together, and even though things hadn’t been right between us for a long time I still feel…weird to have…”
He was smiling at her. “You’re going to have to jump right on in and finish that sentence, you know.”
Molly still couldn’t look at him, but she smiled too, and finished the sentence. “To have fallen for you so quickly.”
He moved toward her. “Reckon you’re on the rebound, huh?” he said teasingly.
“No!” Molly exclaimed. “Not at all!”
”Good. Because I’ve…fallen for you, too.”
They moved closer for another kiss.
“Hey!” Caitlin’s voice rang out across the lawn. “Are you two going to come over here for photographs? Or would you prefer if Francesco and I just hovered behind you and waved while you carry on snogging?”
“Sorry!” Molly called. “Be right there!” She took Simon’s hand. “Come on!”
“You sure?” Simon asked, following behind. “Family photographs?” Then something struck him. “Look, why don’t I stay on the other side of the lens and run off a few rolls for you all?”
“How could we leave out the man who just walked my sister down the aisle?” Molly laughed.
They huddled together on the lawn: Caitlin, Francesco, Molly, Simon, Francesco’s family and Molly and Caitlin’s mum, smiling stupidly happy smiles as the hotel manager took photographs. Molly, pressed close up against Simon, wondered if she should be allowed to feel so indecently happy when her mother was so unwell.
Her mother was swift to provide the answer. Standing up, she put an arm round Molly and her other around Caitlin.
“I think everything’s going to be wonderful from now on,” she said quietly. “I’ve got a good feeling.”