Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem novel Chapter 1282

Tarquin’s face softened, his eyes full of warmth.

“You ran out here wearing so little—aren’t you freezing?”

“I’m fine, really.”

Elysia slipped her arm through his, her gesture as light as a lifeline.

She turned to the two old men, her voice taking on a playful, almost pleading tone.

“Quincy, Walter, didn’t you both already figure out what really happened back then? We agreed to let it go, remember? Don’t scare him.”

Quincy and Walter exchanged glances, both rolling their eyes at themselves.

“Isn’t this just the way it goes—girls grow up and leave us old-timers behind?”

Elysia jumped in immediately, shaking her head.

“No way! I love you guys just as much as I love him—you know that!”

That made both old men chuckle, the sound echoing on the cool evening air.

“All right, all right,” Quincy said, waving her off with a grin. “Elysia’s right. Let bygones be bygones. Come on, let’s head home—dinner’s waiting!”

The two old men started off down the path, their steps surprisingly spry. Tarquin stood frozen for a second.

Elysia tugged on his arm, smiling. “Come on.”

Tarquin hesitated, but before he could say anything, Walter called back over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, son, I was just messing with you. Wouldn’t dare actually hurt you—if I did, our Elysia would have my hide!”

Quincy chimed in, laughter in his voice, “Evan says you’re Elysia’s sweetheart now, her prize pumpkin pie!”

The two old men chuckled as they wandered off toward the house, the porch lights glowing invitingly.

Tarquin could only shake his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Elysia squeezed his arm gently. “Don’t take it to heart. They know the truth about what happened. They’d never really hurt you.”

He looked at her, sincerity in every word.

“I know. I’m not upset. I’m grateful—grateful that they love you this much.”

“Yeah,” Tarquin replied, finally moving. He looked down, half-expecting the ground beneath his feet to explode—after all, Walter had tried to scare him earlier. But nothing happened. The path was clear.

They’d only walked a short distance when, suddenly, a loud pop rang out behind them.

Tarquin and Elysia spun around, startled. But instead of chaos, they saw bursts of color lighting up the sky—fireworks, one after another, painting the dusk with light.

Elysia grinned, her arm tightening around Tarquin’s.

“That’s got to be Walter’s way of saying welcome. He’s not the romantic type, but he sure knows how to pull off a gesture.”

Tarquin watched the fireworks explode in dazzling patterns—first surprised, then moved.

What he’d thought was a threat, just a harmless prank. Walter hadn’t wanted to hurt him; he just wanted to make an impression.

This was Walter’s kind of romance—the old man’s blessing, written in fireworks.

Surrounded by the bursts of color, Elysia seemed to catch the mood—or maybe she just wanted to make it up to Tarquin after the rough day. After all, he’d been through the wringer: first Grandma, then Grandpa and the rest.

She turned, stepping in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Rising on tiptoe, she kissed him—right there, under the sparkling sky.