Page 107 of A Wedding in Tuscany

Tuscany

‘May I join you?’

I glance over my shoulder coquettishly and nod at my husband. He slips out of his briefs and steps into the shower, his hands immediately roving over my slick skin. I lean back against him, the hot water sluicing off our bodies as his lips nibble at my neck. A firm hand skirts my stomach, sliding lower and making me gasp. I arch my back, pressing my hands against the white tiles to steady myself.

He turns me around, the spray from the shower now running down my back, then lifts me, both hands cupping my bum. I encircle him with my legs as he holds me against the tiles, the coolness of them a shock after the steamy water. We kiss?urgent, our tongues entangled?then he enters me. It’s sexy and intense?harried and a vast contrast to the slow and sensual lovemaking of last night.

His mouth breaks from mine and we’re both gasping. His lips find my neck again and as he comes, he emits a guttural sound that permeates my skin and resonates through my body. I am close and he picks up the pace again. I cling to him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, legs around his waist. I feel the pinch of his fingers grasping me. I feel him inside me, hot water cascading over me, coolness at my back and all these sensations at once send me over the edge.

We part just enough to make eye contact, our eyes saying multitudes?love, desire, longing, acceptance. He leans close and kisses me softly, teasing my lips with his. ‘You are so beautiful, Catherine,’ he murmurs.

I take in the wet locks of hair adorning his forehead and cheeks, his beautiful green eyes, flecked with gold and brown, his proud brow line, high cheekbones, and full mouth, his Gallic nose. I take in every detail of my beautiful husband’s face. ‘So are you,’ I say.

He drops his chin, smiling shyly and endearing himself to me even more?if that’s possible. Then we disentangle ourselves, finish showering, and start our first full day as a married couple with a sumptuous late breakfast on our private veranda.

‘So, what would you like to do today?’ he asks, sipping his black coffee. The detritus of our meal lies across the table in front of us?we were both ravenous, as neither of us had much to eat yesterday, despite the resplendent buffet?and I sit back, full and contented.

I have a fleeting thought of a day trip into Siena and dismiss it. ‘Is it silly that I just want to read a book by the pool?’

He shakes his head, smiling. ‘Non, pas du tout. As you have said, it is a large week. We should take the whole afternoon for relaxing before the guests arrive.’ He’s referring to the gathering Jae has organised here later this afternoon?a happy hour of sorts and the last time we’ll all be together.

My gaze shifts to the nearly full glass of prosecco in front of me. It must be warm now and, as I watch the last few lazy bubbles make their way to the top of the glass, I feel a pang of sadness that it’s nearly time for goodbyes. I already know it will be hardest to say goodbye to Sarah. As I sometimes do, I wish she’d just move back to London. That was only ever in the realm of possibility the year she was dating James, the London-based art dealer. Of course, she was also dating Josh at the time. And no amount of selfish longing that my sister will move back to London could ever trump how happy I am that she’s found her ‘someone’, as she says.

I reach for Jean-Luc’s hand. ‘Thank you?for understanding.’ He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto the knuckles.

‘Of course, chérie,’ he says, ‘I need some peaceful time too. And I thought perhaps we could …’ He hesitates and shrugs.

‘Perhaps we could what?’

He gives me one of those looks, one that bores into my soul. The copious amount of bread I’ve just consumed curdles in my stomach as I realise what ‘perhaps’ means. How long did I think we’d merrily carry on, putting off the discussion about our living situation? Still, the morning after our wedding seems a little too soon. I’m not ready?mentally, logistically, emotionally. But from his expression, he knows that I know what he means.

‘Let’s get changed for poolside relaxing,’ I say brightly, postponing the inevitable. If I’m going to have a difficult conversation, maybe it will be less difficult under the brilliant blue of a Tuscan sky.

‘D’accord.’ He gives me a tight smile, his lips invisible, and gets up abruptly from the table, his chair scraping against the stone pavement. The sound is harsh to my ears, perhaps a harbinger of what’s in my immediate future.

I hope Sarah’s having a better morning than me.

‘Hello, love.’ Dad. He stands next to my sun lounger, plunging me into shade, and looks down at me.

‘Hi, Dad.’ I invert my Kindle on my chest. ‘What are you two up to today?’

‘We’re squeezing in a round of golf,’ he replies.

‘Oh, really? Three days is too long to go without?’ I tease.

‘Exactly,’ he says, missing my sarcasm. ‘But we might be a little late to your do tonight, love.’

‘Oh, that’s all right. As long as you can pop in at some point and say your goodbyes.’

‘There you are, Ronald.’ Mum. ‘Hello, Catherine. Where’s Jean-Luc?’ God, not even twenty-four hours married and we’re already expected to be joined at the hip.

‘Hello, Mum. He’s in the room. He had to make a couple of phone calls?work, I think.’

Mum purses her lips on the word ‘work’. Ah-hah!Even her beloved son-in-law, who until yesterday could do no wrong, can’t escape the Karen Parsons Judgment Train. Choo-choo, all aboard. At least I no longer have to ride it alone. ‘Right. Well, we’re off. Your father’s got us a one o’clock tee time?though we didn’t bring our clubs, of course, so we have to rent and last time …’ She shakes her head at the horror of rented golf clubs.

‘I’m sure they’ll be fine, love. It’s supposed to be a very nice course?even better than the last one,’ says Dad, his excitement obvious.

Mum harumphs, unconvinced. ‘Anyway, I’m afraid that means we’ll be a little late to your gathering.’

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