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Peeking over the balcony, Polly spotted her grandparents, regal in the front row, entertaining Monsieur and Madame Beaufils. Her heart gave a little squeeze of joy, her family. All together.
‘Are you ready?’ Clara touched her shoulder softly.
Polly shivered. ‘I think so. I didn’t expect to be nervous but now that we’re here I’m beginning to wish that we’d run away and got married in secret.’
Clara laughed. ‘Summer would never have forgiven you. This is her moment of glory. I wouldn’t have forgiven you either and nor would Hope. It’s not every three-month-old who gets to be a bridesmaid.’ She dropped a kiss on her niece’s’s fuzzy head.
‘She looks gorgeous,’ Polly agreed, beaming at her small baby who was trying her best to eat the silk sleeve of her cream dress.
‘Best dressed girl in the room.’
‘For now.’ Polly eyed her daughter darkly. ‘I have three changes with me. I’m not sure that will be enough.’
‘It’s a good thing there’s a whole baby department just one level up.’
‘Clara...’ Polly pulled at her skirt, her fingers nervous. ‘...will I do?’
The other woman smiled. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she said.
Polly inhaled, a long deep breath. Her dress was simple, an ankle-length cream sheath, her loose hair held off her face with a beaded band. It was an utterly simple yet perfectly elegant outfit; a Rafferty’s original, copied from one of the old designs Polly had found in the archives.
Clara smoothed down her own purple dress, a loose design that skimmed over her stomach, flattering the bump. There would be less than six months between the cousins and Polly couldn’t wait to meet Raff’s child. The smaller bridesmaids, Summer and Hope, were looking uncommonly neat and tidy in cream. For now. The chances of them ending the evening in their current outfits were pretty slim. Especially Hope, who was currently averaging four changes a day.
‘I don’t know.’ Polly watched as Hope fiddled with the delicate platinum bangle she had given Clara as a bridesmaid gift. ‘You were a pretty gorgeous bride.’
‘I was marrying Raff,’ Clara said simply, her green eyes glowing with love. ‘I would have been happy with a sack and a takeaway.’
Polly grinned, she knew full well that Clara had adored every moment of her winter wedding to Raff. She would have preferred something smaller herself but Gabe wanted the world to see them become a family.
And she could deny him nothing.
They had started adoption proceedings as soon as they could but Gabe couldn’t have adored Hope more if he had fathered her, and, Polly thought loyally, he had in every way that mattered—from holding Polly’s hand through the long, arduous labour to night feeds and nappy changes.
The assembled guests had been talking quietly but when two tall men made their way to the front the murmuring ceased and heads craned to get a better look at the groom and his best man.
Dressed in identical morning suits, the two men couldn’t have looked more different. Although they were of a similar height Raff was built on broad lines, his hair as blond as Polly’s own, his brand of good looks deceptively boyish. Gabe was leaner, darker with a more dangerously attractive demeanour.
‘They’re there,’ she told her friend shivering with anticipation as her grandfather climbed the sweeping stairs to join them, pride beaming in his face as he readied himself to escort his granddaughter down the makeshift aisle.
Polly gripped Clara’s hand tightly and then took a deep breath, turning to greet her grandfather father with a kiss. She was ready.
Clara was poised, ready to go first, Hope in her arm, then Summer would follow on. Waiting out front, sprinkled throughout the congregation was her grandmother, her parents-in-law to be and all three of Gabe’s sisters with assorted husbands and children. Waiting for her at the bottom of the aisle was her brother, tugging at his cravat.
And Gabe. Her fiancé, father of her child. His eyes were fixed on hers, a small, private smile just for her on those well-cut lips.
This time last year she had had no one. Now she was just ten minutes and a few words away from a huge, extended, noisy, chaotic, loving family. A challenging, questioning, adoring, supportive husband. She had a daughter, dependent on her for everything.
There was a time all this would have terrified her. But now?
Polly smiled back at Gabe. ‘I love you,’ she mouthed.
His sensual mouth curved. ‘Je t’aime,’ he mouthed back.
Polly Rafferty was completely and utterly happy.
* * * * *
