She shuddered. ‘I don’t want to think about that at all.’ Tipping her head up, she smiled at him. ‘At least we’ll have each other. Maybe we can hide out in the tree house instead.’
He pressed his forehead against hers. ‘I’d like that.’
‘You would?’
‘Yeah. Wouldn’t you?’
She opened her mouth to tell him she’d be happy wherever they were, as long as they were together. But then she closed it again, silenced by the intensity of his stare. There was no need for words when actions said it all.
Ryan was too busy kissing her for that.
Epilogue
Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love
– Hamlet
Cesca walked into the small room where her sisters were waiting, her hands lifting her dress at the hips so the hem wouldn’t get caught in the doorway. Juliet gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, feeling tears stinging at her eyes.
Her sister looked beautiful. The way every bride should on her wedding day.
The tears spilled over, hot saltwater cutting through Juliet’s make-up – expertly applied that morning by the artist Cesca had flown in. Silently, Lucy handed Juliet a small white handkerchief, and Juliet lifted it to her cheeks, surreptitiously dabbing the tears away.
‘You look amazing,’ Kitty said, stepping forward with a big smile on her face. ‘Sam’s going to freak when he sees you.’
‘You’re gorgeous,’ Lucy agreed, beaming at her younger sibling. ‘That dress is just as lovely as I remember it.’
She was wearing the white gown she’d modelled for them all those months ago, when they’d Skyped into her dress-fitting session at a Beverly Hills boutique. The white fabric flowers appliqued to the sheer material of the bodice matched the flowers Cesca’s hairdresser had artfully woven into her hair. Cesca had wanted to keep things simple – white dress, white flowers, white ties worn by the groomsmen. The only colour was on her sisters’ and niece’s dresses. Lucy, Juliet and Kitty were sheathed in the palest of pink, while Poppy’s dress was a little darker, and unlike their body-skimming fabric, hers was voluminous, her underskirts pushing her dress out until she looked like she belonged on the set of Gone with the Wind.
Of course, she was in heaven.
‘Where’s Poppy?’ Cesca asked, looking around. It was as if she could read Juliet’s mind.
‘She went to the bathroom.’ Juliet wrinkled her nose. ‘I had to help her, of course, but then she shooed me away and said she wanted to primp and preen – her words – in front of the mirror for a while.’
Cesca bit down a smile. ‘Well, she did look gorgeous. She’s the perfect flower girl.’
Juliet raised her eyebrows. ‘Let’s hope so.’ She looked back at the table full of flowers, the bouquets she’d made up first thing that morning before her sisters had even got out of bed. ‘Are you ready for your flowers?’ she asked Cesca.
Cesca nodded.
Carefully, Juliet lifted the bouquet, feeling her throat tighten. Surely she wasn’t going to burst into tears all over again? Since they’d arrived in the UK two days before, she must have cried a river. First at being reunited with her father – in spite of his frailty – and then at showing Poppy her childhood city. And now they were all in the Highlands of Scotland, spending time in the place Lucy called home, and she was as emotional as hell.
Cry me a loch.
‘These are amazing,’ Cesca said softly, as Juliet placed the flowers carefully into her grip. White roses were mixed with white poppies – their black centres adding a depth to the arrangement. In between, Juliet had laced them with baby’s breath – symbolising everlasting and undying love. ‘I can’t believe how clever you are.’
Juliet gave her sister a watery smile, determined not to steal the limelight with her emotions. Somehow she needed to get them under control, otherwise she’d end up sobbing during the ceremony, and that really wouldn’t do.
There was a knock on the door, then the vicar popped his head around, the sun through the window behind them glinting off his shiny domed head. He was dressed in a black robe, with a white surplice over the top, and a long scarf lying down the front of his tunic. There
was a big smile on his face – from the start he’d been enthusiastic about this wedding, promising he’d do his best to keep it as private as possible – and he held his hand out to Cesca, telling her how lovely she looked.