Page 90 of The Breakup Bookshop

‘I came to the breakup bookshop tonight thinking Seb might still be here and I’d have to battle for your hand,’ he confesses, before kissing me gently again.

I shake my head. ‘I sent Seb packing. I couldn’t go back there, not feeling the way I feel about you. I didn’t get your messages until today. I thought you hadn’t contacted me, but there must have been a malfunction with the bin technology.’

‘Of course I contacted you. And you knew about Elle? She told me that she’d told the group she wanted to get back with her ex, but she wasn’t sure if you knew I was her ex or not.’

‘I knew. You didn’t take her up on her offer then?’

Rory shakes his head. ‘Elle’s always been a friend. We tried being together, but it didn’t work. She’s feeling a bit stuck, like she’s not where she wants to be in life, but we agreed that us getting back together isn’t what either of us really wants or needs. That’s not a reason to be with someone. And how could I be with her when it’s always been you?’

It’s always been me.

Impossibly, the grin on my face widens. ‘Well, now you’ve got me. I’m officially part of the Rory fan club. The president, in fact.’

‘About time,’ he grins. ‘We’re finally on the same page.’

‘What you said before,’ I say, ‘about waiting for me to arrive every summer and hating it when I left. Is it true?’

He nods. ‘All true. I don’t know why I was so embarrassed to say it before.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. We wasted so much time.’

‘It’s not your fault. I should have just bloody told you at the start. Turns out, being vulnerable isn’t exactly my strong suit. I slated the support group because I couldn’t imagine being part of something like this, but I see now how good it is for the whole village.’

‘Does that mean you’re going to come along and open up more often?’

‘Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves now,’ he grins.

‘Okay, let’s make a promise,’ I say. ‘We talk to each other, even when it’s hard. We’re honest with each other, even if we feel embarrassed. And you wear a kilt for me every other weekend. Because damn, you looked good in that selfie.’

He throws his head back and laughs. ‘There’s one last thing I need to do to know you’re staying for sure.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Let’s get upstairs,’ he whispers, pressing his forehead against mine, ‘and remove those tiles.’

‘Now you’re talking.’

EPILOGUE

One year later

Rory swings me around the floor, a huge grin plastered on his face as he pulls me to a halt and then spins me in circles again.

‘Will I ever learn the steps?’ I groan when I finally slump back in my chair, regaining my breath.

‘You know the steps,’ he points out. ‘You’ve just not quite taught your feet to keep up with them yet.’

‘True. Anyway, I’m only here to see you in your kilt.’

He laughs and leans down to kiss me, ignoring the dancers all around us. I feel dizzy, and not just from the dancing, as his lips touch mine. He’s wearing the full Scottish get-up, from top to toe. A MacGregor tartan kilt, white shirt, bow tie, the works. He’s delighted with the hip flask in his sporran, with the whisky he’s saved for a special occasion. It doesn’t get much more special than today.

Pete grins at us as he passes by, Margaret on his arm. ‘Got to watch your knee with that one around.’ Through the breakup bookshop, Margaret and Pete have grown to be companions. They reminisce about the past and look out for each other.

Fiona dances past, with Lillian by her side. They laugh as they squabble over who should be leading the dance. Fiona claims to be a ceilidh expert, but Lillian is quietly confident in her execution. They live together now, in my granny’s cottage. I’m a regular visitor to the house, which is filled with love and laughter, as they make up for the years they were separated. Lillian teaches in the local high school and there’s more of a spring in Fiona’s step every single morning when I pop in for my coffee.

I pull Rory’s hand and guide him to the top table. I smooth my silk dress and take a seat beside Donna, while Rory sits on Finlay’s left.

Donna’s sporting a whole new look: blonde curls. She’s firmly in what she calls her bridal era. Eventually, with a little persuasion from me, she opened up to Finlay. She told him her reasons for pushing him away. Finlay said he couldn’t imagine his life without her, regardless of what their future held. He told her, in no uncertain terms, that whether they could have children or not, she was his family. He proposed as the clock struck midnight on Hogmanay, and she said yes.