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“I shouldn’t have let that fear define me. I should have talked to you. Well, I think we can both agree there are a million things I should have done differently, but I promise, if you give me another chance, I will make it up to you.”

She moves closer to him, tilts her chin up to look at him. “I promise to tell you if I am ever struggling with anything—work or otherwise.”

“I promise to ask you—and I mean really ask you—rather than assuming it’s me.”

She lets out a long breath and, finally, feels his arms come around her. She lays her head on his chest, breathing him in. “Well, okay, then.”

“We’ll work it out,” he says, tightening his arms around her. “You could come and live with me, in this house in Norfolk I told you about. Or we could try to find somewhere closer to London, so you can commute.”

She smiles against him. “Norfolk sounds okay.” It sounds like a change—and maybe that’s what she needs.

“And I was thinking…”

“Yes?”

“Kristen.”

She frowns, pulling back a bit. “Not where I thought this was going, but okay.”

“She might be able to help, with your business.” Her frown deepens. “I mean,” he continues quickly, “it might be a terrible idea. But I think I got the impression this holiday that she’s a little, well, frustrated.”

“Yes,” Mel says wryly. “I got that impression too.”

“And I don’t know how much she told you, she’s not one to boast, but she used to be this big-shot project manager in London. Now, I’ll admit I don’t know what, exactly, a project manager does, but it sounds the kind of thing that might be useful, when it comes to running a business.”

She chews her lip, thinking about it. Then she smiles. “Do you know what? You might actually be onto something.”

He grins. “Well, I was due a good idea. It’s been a while.”

She laughs, then leans into him again when he tightens his hold. This. This is all she needs, all she’s wanted. And, yes, things with Susan are uncertain and they’re going to have to find a way to get through that. But they’ll do that, together.

“I love you, Finn,” she says as he rests his forehead against hers.

“I love everything about you,” he says simply. Dimly, she thinks she hears the receptionist sob.

She smiles a little. “It’s impossible to love everything about someone,” she says, remembering a similar conversation in Tuscany.

He rests his forehead against hers. “Everything,” he murmurs, and she closes her eyes, allowing that to settle. And when he says it again, this time, she allows herself to believe it. “Everything, Mel.”

Chapter Thirty-four

Six months later

The hotel Hattie chose for her wedding is perfect. Right in the heart of Marylebone, it somehow embodies the glamour of the best parts of London, but it also feels as if you could be in the middle of the countryside, with unlimited space and tranquility. It almost looks like a Victorian manor house from the outside, with intricate stonework and towering windows, which made Mel wonder if it had once been the home of an aristocrat before becoming a hotel.

The ceremony had been gorgeous, a mix of traditional and enough quirky details to make it perfectly Hattie. Mel had done her best not to cry, standing up in front of everyone as one of the bridesmaids, but Finn had hugged her afterward in a way that let her know her emotions had been all over her face.

She and Finn are now sitting at the high table at the front of the Grand Ballroom. “Ballroom” is exactly the right word for this space—Mel can imagine actual balls taking place here, like something from Bridgerton. High ornate ceilings stretch above them, while gilded mirrors reflect the glow of the candlelight as the sky outside begins to turn to dusk. The three-course meal has just been cleared away—which equaled the best restaurants Mel has ever been in—and glasses are clinking in expectation of the speeches.

Traditionally, of course, it would be the father of the bride to give the first speech. And Andrew is, in fact, here. He might not be sitting at the high table, but Hattie had caved and invited him, perhaps having learned a thing or two about the fragility of life over the last few months. It’s a work in progress, Mel knows. Maybe she’ll never really forgive him, maybe the relationship will never truly heal, with her or all the siblings—but inviting him to the wedding was a big step for Hattie. He’s sitting at a table with Mel’s parents, at her suggestion. They’d been delighted to be invited—there was much crying from her mum and “well, that’s jolly nice” from her dad. They’d descended on Hattie after the ceremony, thanking her profusely, and she’d waved it away. Of course! You’re family!

It’s not her father, however, who Hattie turns to now. Mel catches Finn’s gaze, smiles as he takes her hand, squeezes. And they both look over to the head of the table, where Susan is now getting to her feet. She is wearing a gorgeous white-and-green floral dress, with a matching headscarf wrapped around her head, having claimed, when she started losing her hair from treatment, that wigs were not for her. She holds her glass of sparkling elderflower up, clinking a spoon against it—though there is no need, because the whole room is already silent.

“Well,” Susan says, and Mel can hear the emotion in her voice even with that one word. When Hattie had decided that Susan was the best person to give this speech, it had caused a showdown between mother and daughter, despite the fact that everyone agreed. It was the only time, according to the siblings, that Susan had protested this strongly about something.

I might not be here by June—you can’t ask me to do it.

Well, tough, because I am.