Page 74 of A Wedding in Tuscany

‘My manicure? How precious do you think I am? Besides …’ I hold up a hand. ‘… Clear polish, remember.’

‘But it’s your wedding, Cat. You shouldn’t have to do all the grunt work. I thought you could go down to the enoteca and get us something for lunch.’

‘I’m on sandwich duty?’ I look about at the others and they all seem fine with the plan. Well, I’m not.

‘More or less. And tea, coffee …’

‘So, I’m also the tea lady.’ Sarah sighs, her mouth twitching. I’m glad she finds this so amusing.

‘There are some calls to make?final confirmations for the food, the flowers, the cake?that sort of thing,’ offers Jaelee. Only, I don’t speak Italian. Nor does she, of course, but I don’t mention that.

‘Um.’

‘Well, what do you want to do, Catherine?’ asks Mum impatiently.

‘All right, I’ll be the bloody tea lady. But I’m helping with the other stuff too. I don’t want to be sitting around like Lady Muck while you lot work up a sweat.’

‘Sounds good, love,’ Dad says dismissively. ‘Okay, Sarah, lead the way to the storeroom.’ He must be over this conversation?everyone must because it’s like there’s an unspoken signal and the six of them erupt into activity.

‘I’ll head down to the enoteca,’ I say to everyone and no one.

If my life were a film, this day would be the montage in the middle. There would be lively Italian folk music playing, the kind with a mandolin, violins, and an accordion?probably because that’s what’s bleating from Josh’s portable speaker?and the camera would dip and swing between us, showing the progression of the space from a dusty loft into a dreamy wedding venue.

It would also capture Mum laughing as Dad pretends to dance with a broom, then takes her hand and twirls her, Sarah and Josh kissing every five seconds, and Jaelee frowning at her phone. In several shots, Jean-Luc would meet my eye across the room and just watch me, then smile and close his eyes like he couldn’t believe he was going to marry me the next day.

All right, that’s me?I am doing that.

Sometimes it hits me how incredibly lucky we were that night in Paris, how happenstance brought us together again. A few seconds either way and we would have missed each other, each remaining a fond memory.

But we did meet up. We did catch up. And we did fall (back) in love.

And he’s brilliant and gentle and funny. He’s also the sexiest man on the planet and I say that without prejudice. It’s just a fact. He’s so comfortable in his skin and with who he is and I find that an incredibly sexy trait. Not to mention how handsome he is and the way he moves?it’s almost catlike it’s so fluid. And when he runs his hands through his hair or looks at me intensely with those Kelly-green eyes, my lady parts stand to attention.

So, yes, as I’ve run up and down the stairs between the loft and the apartment, toting sandwiches and trays of tea and coffee, I’ve also indulged in several ‘oh my god, I am marrying that incredible man tomorrow’ moments.

I’m helping Sarah set out tableaux of pillar candles and sprigs of rosemary and lavender?it was her idea to raid the castle’s gardens for greenery?when I notice Jean-Luc on the phone in the next room. He’s speaking French and frowning. It could be a multitude of people on the other end of that call?an editor of one of the many magazines he writes for, his accountant, the woman in his building who collects his mail when he’s away … but it’s when he says, ‘Cécile, non, ce n'est pas possible,’ that my stomach clenches. Good god, what does she want now?

‘Pffft,’ he huffs in frustration as he rubs the back of his neck?uh-oh, not a good sign. ‘Attends,’ he says and drops the phone to his side. He comes over to me.

‘What’s going on, darling?’ I ask, mindful that Cécile is still on the line and can probably hear us. He lifts the phone and taps the ‘mute’ button. Still, I refrain from asking, ‘What the hell’s up with that bitch-faced dragon sister of yours?’ and smile at him encouragingly, all bridal and magnanimous.

‘Cécile and Louis, they were supposed to arrive today …’ I knew this, of course. I’ve been hoping they’ll go straight to their accommodation and I’ll only have to endure Cécile’s presence tomorrow when my entire support squad is by my side. ‘But they have been delayed. Something about Louis’ work’ ?I seriously doubt that? ‘and Cécile wants me to pick them up at the airport in the morning.’

‘What? On your wedding day? Can’t they just take a cab like Mum and Dad did?’ I don’t add that Cécile and her husband can most definitely afford it.

‘This I suggest already.’ He shakes his head and run his fingertips along his lips.

‘Darling, it’s more than a three-hour return trip. She must know this is big ask.’ His eyes meet mine and I know he’s conflicted. Sarah’s hand lands on my shoulder in support. At least one of us has a decent, loving sister.

‘What’s going on?’ Jaelee asks, inserting herself into the conversation.

‘She’s definitely on mute, right?’ Sarah asks Jean-Luc. He nods. To Jaelee, she says, ‘Jean-Luc’s sister and her husband can’t fly in today and she wants him to pick them up from the airport tomorrow morning.’ I applaud her for not adding ‘the unreasonable cow’.

‘Um, no. Not happening. Gimme,’ she says to Jean-Luc, holding out her hand.

He seems taken aback. ‘You want my phone?’

‘Yeah, let me talk to her. She speaks English, right?’

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