Page 127 of Hexed Up

“It’s not embarrassing,” he says. “It’s the best news I’ve ever heard. Because I feel the same way, Molly. I’m completely, completely head over heels in love with you too.”

He beams at me. And I beam right back. Two people sitting on a bench, completely in love with each other, the sun shining down on our heads, the warm afternoon’s breeze ruffling our cheeks, the air full of the scent of August flowers.

“So now what?” he asks me.

“Well,” I say, “now the truth’s out in the open, I think you’d better kiss me.”

“Sounds like a terrific idea to me,” he says.

He shuffles closer to me on the bench, leaning one arm on the back of it, and lifting his other hand to cup his finger under my chin and tilt my face towards his.

For a moment he just looks at me, his gaze tracing over my face as if he’s memorising every part of it.

And then he leans forward and presses his lips to mine.

And everything else – the noise of the Heath, all the people, all the kerfuffle around us – all just disappears.

And it’s just me.

And it’s just him.

Together.

No stupid love potion necessary.

Epilogue

HORATIO

“How do I look?” Molly asks, flinging her arms out wide and spinning 360 degrees on the spot, her Witching Academy robes billowing out around her and the mortarboard balanced on her head wobbling precariously.

“So fucking sexy,” I growl, taking a step forward and reaching for her.

She ducks away, raises a disapproving eyebrow and wags her finger at me. “There is no time for that, Mr Shaw. I can’t be late for my own graduation.”

I lunge for her again. This time she lets me catch her, my arms sliding round her waist as I pull her towards me. “There’s always time,” I tell her.

“But I’m always late.” She sighs. “And this is the one time I really can’t be late, Horatio. If I’m not there to accept my certificate–”

“They’ll probably post it to you.”

“But Mum and Dad, Tiggie and Prim and Damien are all going to be there.”

I peer down into those deep emerald eyes of hers and kiss the end of her button nose. “Molly, we’re not going to be late. I won’t let that happen.”

She beams up at me. “I know. This is why we’re so right for each other. You keep me on the straight and narrow.”

“And you keep me on my toes.”

“Your hairy toes.” She giggles.

I should let her go. She’s right, we can’t be late, but my heart is fit to bursting this morning and I can’t help but tell her, “I’m so proud of you, Molly Eccleston.”

“I’m proud of myself,” she admits. “Even if it’s come, you know, a decade later than it should have.”

“You’ve worked really hard, Molly. You’ve earned this and you deserve it.”

The Witching Academy won’t let adults re-enrol into the school, but they do have night classes. Molly’s spent the last two years working her socks off in the evenings to pass her witching exams, passing them with flying colours actually. So much so, the witching authorities have offered her a position in the Research Department – her first real and legal job.