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But what she didn’t know was—where were they going? It looked like the same path they’d taken that day when—
Oh.
Alice stumbled to a stop as the cottage came into view—the one from her vision. Her dream of a happy ever after made solid with bricks and mortar. But instead of the overgrown, unloved wreck she remembered, this cottage had clearly been shown a little TLC.
Outside the front door stood a Christmas tree in a pot, strung with tiny white lights that blinked in the afternoon shadows. Over the cottage door hung more lights—brightly coloured lanterns that made the place look warm and welcoming.
Had someone moved in? When? Who?
‘Whose home is it?’ she asked, not wanting to step closer if they were trespassing. Not daring to speak the hope that was in her heart.
‘Ours,’ Liam said. ‘Yours and mine and Jamie’s, if you want it. Because we both love you too. Me especially—more than I ever imagined I could love. And if you can trust me I’ll spend every day showing you both just how much. All you have to do is say you’ll stay.’
Alice turned to him, the hope inside her overflowing until all the fear that had clung on was washed away. ‘For ever?’ she asked.
Liam gave her a lopsided smile. ‘Longer, if you’d like.’
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Alice reached up and kissed him, long and deep. ‘I’m so sorry I ran. I’m so sorry I was scared,’ she murmured against his lips.
‘All that matters is that you came back,’ he replied. ‘We missed you so much.’
‘I missed you too. My boys.’ She glanced down at Jamie, snoozing in his pram. ‘And I promise I’ll never leave you again.’
‘Thank God for that,’ Liam said, and kissed her once more. ‘Our family isn’t complete without you.’
‘I couldn’t find home anywhere you weren’t,’ Alice said, filled with the warmth and happiness that came from knowing that she was home at last.
And that none of them would ever be lonely again.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Sophie Pembroke:
PROPOSAL FOR THE WEDDING PLANNER
SLOW DANCE WITH THE BEST MAN
THE UNEXPECTED HOLIDAY GIFT
A PROPOSAL WORTH MILLIONS
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from HIS MISTLETOE PROPOSAL by Christy McKellen.
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His Mistletoe Proposal
by Christy McKellen
CHAPTER ONE
To my darling Flora—confidante, cheerleader and anchor to my universe,
So this is weird, right? Me speaking to you from the grave. But I wanted to get all my thoughts down on paper because I knew I’d get all choked up and make a mess of it if I tried to say it out loud. So here goes...
I know this is a lot to ask, but please don’t be too sad now that I’ve gone. I feel as though I’ve made peace with what’s happened to me and I’d hate to think of my passing as something that would hold you back from living your own life to the full. I’ve had a good and happy existence. All twenty-eight of my years have been blessed with love and wonderful experiences and my life’s been all the better for having you in it, Flora.
I’m so proud of you for all that you’ve achieved. I always knew you’d be successful in whatever you did, but your drive and determination have astounded even me. I know you probably won’t take a minute to step back and see the enormity of what you’ve accomplished, but get this: you truly are an incredible person, as well as the kindest, most generous woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.
Which leads me on to two favours I have to ask of you, Flora. Firstly, and I know it’s a biggie, please look out for Alex now that I’m not around to do it any more. As you know, I was the only family he had left and I hate to think of him being alone in the world. He wouldn’t admit it—I think he was trying to protect my last few weeks on earth so they’d be stress-free—but I think someone broke his heart recently and he’s really hurting.
Secondly, check your breasts for lumps EVERY DAY. Or, even better, get a gorgeous sex-god to do it for you *wink*. Don’t make the same mistake I did and shrug cancer off as something that happens to someone else. Someone older. Or less busy.
You have such a good heart, Flora. You deserve to be happy, so go easy on yourself, okay?
I love you.
Your best friend for ever,
Amy
FLORA MORGAN CAUGHT the tear on her finger before it fell onto the precious, now rather crumpled, piece of paper she clutched in her hand. She’d carried the letter around with her ever since it had dropped through her letter box nearly a
month ago, and she’d taken it out regularly since then to read it, hoping to conjure Amy’s spirit during her weaker moments.
She missed her friend so much it made her heart physically ache. She had no idea how she was going to live her life without having Amy around, always ready to jolly her out of a funk and lift her spirits with one of her rousing pep talks.
But she was going to have to. Because her best friend was gone.
The hum and chatter of Bath’s famous Pump Room restaurant faded away as she lost herself in some of the happy memories she’d shared with Amy during the six years they’d known each other. They’d met at their first jobs after graduating from university, sitting side by side in cramped, scruffy cubicles at the blue-chip company based in Glasgow that had selected them for their highly competitive fast-track programme. They’d hit it off immediately—their mutual love of order and precision drawing them together like paper clips to a magnet. Sharing both the professional and personal exciting highs and painful lows over the years that followed had cemented their tight friendship.
Folding the letter carefully away into the Italian leather handbag she’d bought herself for a birthday present, Flora took a deep breath to centre herself. Now wasn’t the time to get all emotionally tangled up. She needed to focus on her reason for being here today and for that she needed to have her wits about her.
Not that her reason for being here today had turned up yet.
Sitting up straighter, Flora became aware of a burst of movement over at the maître d’s desk and she turned to see that her companion for afternoon tea had finally arrived. Eighteen minutes late. But then who was counting?
Shaking off her lingering melancholy, she straightened the neckline of her silk blouse and smoothed her fingertips over her eyebrows to make sure they were both still following the required curve. They were.
