Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

“Molly, darling, we have a plane to catch. Do we really have to call in at the office? Can’t Pippa sort it out?”

“No. It won’t take long, I promise. And Pippa’s coming with us too. Not on honeymoon”—she giggled—“but into the office. It’s a bit of a tradition, I’m afraid.”

The taxi arrived at the Castle to collect them and Pippa ushered Molly, who was wearing a flowing cream silk trouser suit, into the backseat. Rory, who had been made to wear a kilt which showed off his toned, tanned legs to perfection, jumped in beside her. Molly thought she had never seen him so handsome.

“Oh my goodness,” sighed Pippa, her limbs flopping dramatically onto the seat. “I am exhausted, but that was the most amazing day ever. Wasn’t it?”

Molly dropped her head onto Rory’s shoulder, sighing in agreement. She hadn’t stopped to draw breath all day, it had been one magical moment after another, the hazy blur of events already forming warm fond memories in her head.

“Did you see Aaron and Natalie on the dance floor?” asked Pippa. “They were getting on famously. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if there was another wedding on the horizon before very long.”

“I’ll tell you something,” said Molly, becoming animated. “I’ll kill my sister if she messes Aaron about. He is such a sweet guy, I couldn’t bear for him to get hurt.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s any chance of that,” piped up Rory. “They both seemed to be totally smitten. And anyway you shouldn’t be worrying about them, not for the next three weeks at least, all you need to worry about is keeping your new husband happy.” He squeezed her waist playfully.

Molly settled back down into his embrace, happy to be alone at last with the two people she loved most in the world.

“Come on,” cried Pippa excitedly, peering out through the window into the darkened night sky, “we’re here.”

The three of them fell out of the taxi and traipsed up the three flights of stairs, giggling as each of them in turn stumbled on their way.

“Would somebody please tell me what we’re doing here?” asked Rory, as they all bundled into the office.

“For this,” said Molly, pulling out a Polaroid from her pretty clutch bag, holding it up in the air delightedly. Tears formed in her eyes as she examined the photo of her with her new husband, having never believed that this moment would actually arrive for her.

She pinned the photo, pride of place, in the center of all the other happy wedding photos, before stepping back to admire her handiwork. Rory put his around her shoulder, squeezing her tight. She looked up into those dark blue eyes, realizing that from that very first day he’d walked into her office, she hadn’t stood a chance. Still, at least her success rate in her matchmaking efforts weren’t compromised. Rory was one satisfied client, he had his happy ending and against all hope, so did she.

“If I say so myself,” she said, embracing Pippa and Rory in a hug, “that’s a job very well done.”