Page 103 of A Wedding in Tuscany

Tuscany

‘Here you go,’ says Josh, my Havaianas swinging from his fingers.

‘Oh, thank god.’ I pad over to him in my bare feet, the soles blackened from the ancient wooden floors. ‘Thank you, babe.’ He earns a kiss for his troubles, then I slip them on.

‘Sarah, I’m taking these downstairs,’ says Dad, holding a box of wedding presents.

‘Okay, Dad. They can go in Cat and Jean-Luc’s room.’

‘Righteo.’ They’d said ‘no presents’ on the invitations but no one actually shows up at a wedding without one?well, except Cécile and Louis, the tacky in-laws. It seems that Cat did make a dent in Cécile’s six-inch emotional armour with their little chat before the cake cutting, but as I predicted they left soon afterwards. After today, I’m hoping to go the rest of my life without ever encountering the witchy sister again. Though Abigail and Alice sound fun and I’ve always wanted nieces?even nieces ‘once removed’ could be worth tolerating a little Cécile time. If she’d even allow that?she probably hates me by association.

‘Everything okay?’ asks Josh.

‘What? Oh, sorry?just thinking about Cécile.’

‘Here, let me.’ He takes over covering the millefoglie with plastic wrap. We made a decent effort considering it would have served a much larger wedding, but I’m not sure we should bother saving it?surely that pastry will get even soggier by tomorrow. ‘So, you think that they’ll be okay now?’

‘Sorry?’

He stops swathing the pastry in plastic. ‘Hey, why don’t you head down, take a shower, and I’ll finish up.’

‘Oh, no, I’m fine?just a little tired.’

‘That’s what I mean. We’re nearly done anyway.’

On cue, Mum brings over the last of the flower arrangements. ‘Are these still going to the local hospital, Sarah?’ she asks.

‘Um, yes. Bianca said she’d arrange a pickup tomorrow but I’ll check with her in the morning. Oh, not this.’ I retrieve Cat’s bouquet from the bar.

‘Now what are you going to do with that? You can’t bring it back to Australia.’

‘I know, Mum. I just thought it might be nice for Cat to have it until we leave. I’ll put it in her room.’

Mum waves a hand at me indicating she doesn’t care and it’s only now that I really see her exhaustion. I check my watch?11:48pm. No wonder. It’s been a long, full, emotional day and it’s late.

I cast my eyes about the space. We’ve worked efficiently since the guests trickled out, clearing up under the glare of industrial lighting which casts a cold blueish glow over the loft. The leftovers have been packed up and cleared away, with many of them now residing in the fridge downstairs and the rest sent home with the caterers?they’d protested but what were we going to do with a mountain of food? We’re leaving soon. The unopened wine has been consolidated and will be collected by the vintner in the morning, and Cat and Jean-Luc will receive a final bill for the alcohol. The sound system was packed up and put into the bartender’s boot almost as soon as the bride and groom departed, which was about an hour ago. And now it’s just us and the dregs of the millefoglie.

‘I think that’s everything,’ I say.

‘Thank god,’ says Mum wearily. It’s uncharacteristic of her?she never shies away from hard work?and I give her a sideways hug.

‘Ready to go, love?’ asks Dad who’s returned from the apartment. Mum only had a couple of celebratory proseccos, so she’s the skipper.

‘Absolutely.’ Josh and I follow them out, him carrying the soggy pastry. At the bottom of the staircase, I turn the large grey switch from ‘acceso’ to ‘spento’ and the loft descends into darkness. We say goodnight to my parents, and by the time Josh has made room in the fridge for the millefoglie, I am lying supine on our bed, my filthy feet dangling over the edge.

‘Did you wanna get in the shower?’ he asks, crawling onto the bed next to me.

‘Is that a proposition?’ I flop a hand onto his chest and lazily run it up and down, ‘Because this is the level of energy I have right now. I could definitely lie here while you do all the work, but there’s no way I’m up for shower sex.’

He chuckles softly. ‘I was actually thinking how much you’ll hate yourself in the morning if you get into bed sweaty from dancing and with blackened feet.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘But while you’re in there, I’ll consider your generous offer of sex.’ I lift my weary hand and flick him with it. ‘Ow.’

‘That didn’t hurt, you wuss.’

‘Come on,’ he cajoles and I roll over and sit up on the edge of the bed. He crawls up behind me and, kneeling on the bed, unzips my dress, pressing his lips to the curve of my neck.

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