A Wedding in Tuscany, page 4
‘And with Anders,’ I tease. Her new boyfriend is a veterinarian from Toronto who moved to Vancouver late last year.
She giggles, then leans her face close to the screen and whispers, ‘He is so wonderful, Cat.’
‘Why are you whispering? Is he there?’ She nods. ‘Well, can I meet him?’ I can’t believe after several months, I am finally going to meet the famous Anders. Lou has been keeping their relationship close to her chest―not even posting photographs on social media―but she’s been gushing to me about him for ages. It seems very likely that Anders is her person and I want to meet him properly.
‘Hey, hon, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.’
Lou is looking offscreen and I can tell the exact moment he comes into view because her face lights up like it’s been illuminated by a thousand candles. Anders steps behind her and lowers his head so he’s in frame.
‘Hey.’
‘Hello, Anders.’
‘You must be the famous Cat.’
‘I was just thinking the same about you―the famous Anders, I mean.’ We grin at each other.
‘What are you up to?’ he asks.
‘Actually, I have news,’ I say excitedly.
‘Oooh,’ says Lou, bouncing in her chair.
I let the moment build, just for a few seconds, then blurt, ‘Jean-Luc and I are getting married!’
Lou leaps from her chair and all I can see is her mid-section while she jumps up and down and squeals. Anders chuckles good-naturedly in the background and eventually Lou settles back onto the chair, her face flushed.
‘Oh, my goodness! Oh my goodness!’
‘I know. It’s very exciting.’ I will not ruin this moment by revealing that my excitement is accompanied by a hefty dose of terror.
‘Oh, Cat …’ she sighs, blinking back tears. ‘Who would have thought it, huh? Jaelee accosts a guy on a street in Paris, he turns out to be your high-school sweetheart, and now you’re getting married!’
That’s the dustcover version, but she’s essentially correct. I was on a bus trip in Europe―booked hastily in the aftermath of the ‘sleeping with my flatmate’ debacle―and I met Lou, Jaelee, and Dani, forming a firm foursome on the first day. And one night in Paris, we did (indeed) randomly run into Jean-Luc on the street―well, Jaelee stopped him to ask for recommendations on somewhere to go, assuming someone as hot as him would be in the know.
And call it kismet or fate or whatever, we were reunited―French exchange student and the bookish Sydney schoolgirl who were best friends for years, then estranged, reunited on a Paris street on a Monday night. The stuff of romcoms.
And now we’re getting married.
‘I know. I can hardly believe it myself.’
‘Lou says that even a few seconds either way―if you were walking down the street a little faster or slower―you would have missed him,’ says Anders. I’ve thought the exact thing a thousand times since that night and it always leaves me feeling slightly queasy. It must show because he quickly backpedals. ‘Sorry,’ he drawls in that sweet Canadian way. ‘I didn’t mean to put a dampener on your news. It’s just an amazing story, is all.’
‘No, it’s all right. And it’s not unlike you two. If you hadn’t been the vet on duty that night …’
‘Or if Mr Snuffles hadn’t decided to eat my yarn …’ adds Lou, turning her head to smile up at Anders.
‘Exactly!’ I declare. Mr Snuffles is Lou’s neighbour’s wayward feline who she was minding at the time―apparently, he has a propensity to eat things that aren’t edible. That was his third trip to the vet in a year.
‘Anyway, I’ll let you two talk but so nice to finally meet you, Cat.’
‘And you, Anders.’ His broad shoulders and handsome face disappear from frame. ‘He’s so lovely,’ I say softly to Lou.
‘Yeah.’ She shrugs―slightly self-satisfied but also humble, the way that only Lou can be.
‘And you’re going to think I’m an idiot, but I was sort of picturing Chris Hemsworth as Thor … you know, the Nordic Viking look.’
She chuckles. ‘It’s the name. You probably won’t meet many black men named Anders Eriksen. But his dad’s got the Viking look down pat―broad shoulders, like Anders, but blue eyes … he even has long hair, though it’s silver now. He was born in Norway―came here for college in his twenties and never left. He met Anders’ mum, they fell in love, the usual story …’
‘You’re in love, Lou,’ I say.
She shrugs, pressing her lips together, then breaks into a broad smile. ‘Maybe.’
‘Have you met them yet, his parents?’
She nods. ‘We flew back east last month for a long weekend and I met the whole family―siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles―everyone. They’re amazing, Cat and …’ She hesitates.
‘What?’
She sighs. ‘I just wish … my parents are still so close with Jackson’s parents and …’ Jackson is her ex-husband. ‘It’s time, you know. I want them to meet Anders and I know they’ll love him, because he’s a total sweetheart, but I also think it will be hard on them. Even now, Mum still holds out hope that Jackson and I …’
‘But you’re divorced.’
‘I know.’
‘Oh, Lou. That sounds like a right pickle.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, I’m always here to listen if you need me.’
‘Thanks, Cat.’
‘And I do have more news.’
‘Oh! Of course―the wedding. Sorry, I didn’t even ask. Where and when? I’ll be there!’
I grin. ‘Tuscany, this autumn.’ Her eyes widen. ‘I know! I promise we’ll have the exact date soon, but we’re looking at late October.’
‘Oh, wow, that’s coming up fast!’ I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I suppose she’s right―it is only four months away and some people take a lot longer to plan their wedding.
‘Sarah is helping us organise it―actually, it’s her fortieth around the same time, so we’re having a joint celebration.’
‘Oh, that’s awesome. I’ll finally get to meet her!’
‘Yes. We’ll all be together. That’s what Jean-Luc and I want―all our loved ones with us. So, you can definitely come?’
‘Yes! No matter what,’ she says.
‘And bring Anders too,’ I say quietly.
‘Oh, thank you. I definitely will.’ She leans in close to the screen. ‘And you’re right, I do love him. I’m working up the courage to tell him, but … it’s true.’
‘Oh, Lou, that makes my heart sing. And do tell him―it’s obvious he’s in love with you too.’ She smiles and looks off camera again. God, this is wonderful news. When I met Lou, her marriage to Jackson was rocky and she’s endured a rough couple of years―the separation, the divorce. I am definitely Team Anders.
‘And Tuscany!’ Lou adds. ‘Gosh, our trip through that part of Italy is a total blur―even Florence.’
‘You mean you don’t have vivid memories of getting caught up in a police raid and missing the bus back to the campsite?’
She chuckles. ‘Traumatic flashbacks, more like.’
‘It was a good trip,’ I say.
‘Oh, yeah, for sure.’ She lowers her voice again. ‘I don’t know that I could have made my big decision if I hadn’t been on that trip with you girls.’ She’s referring to the decision to leave Jackson.
‘I know. Oh, Lou, I cannot wait to see you―properly, I mean.’
‘Me too.’
‘Hey, hon?’ Anders calls.
Lou looks over her shoulder. ‘Yeah, hon?’ Oh, my god, they are so adorable together.
‘We’ve got that brunch reservation. We should probably get going.’
She turns back to me. ‘Sorry. I need to go, but I’m ecstatic for you, Cat.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And you give Jean-Luc a big hug for me and let us know about the wedding, ’cause we’ll be there.’ The ‘we’ makes my heart sing. No one deserves happiness more than our Lou.
‘I promise.’
‘Love you, Cat.’
‘Love you too.’
‘Hey, what’s up?’ Jaelee is looking off to the left and I can hear her typing.
‘I’m getting married.’
She stops typing and gawps at me. ‘No shit.’
‘Absolutely no excrement at all.’
‘That’s awesome. To Jean-Luc or …?’ She breaks into a cheeky double-dimpled grin.
‘Or. Actually, I’m running off with the dustman.’
‘I have no idea who or what a dustman is, but I hope he’s hot.’
‘He isn’t. He’s also old and mean and his name is Frank.’
‘Wow. I can see why you dumped your hot, sexy Frenchman for him. But, really, that’s awesome, Cat.’ For Jaelee, that’s practically gushing.
‘Thank you!’ I reply. ‘So, remind me, where are you now?’
‘At home.’
‘Are you being obstreperous on purpose?’
‘Always. We’re back in Bali.’
‘Again?’
She shrugs. ‘We’re kind of in love with the place.’
‘Perhaps I’ll come visit you one day. I’m definitely due for a do-over,’ I say, referring to my one and only trip to Bali―a rite of passage for many Australians only most of mine was spent on the toilet.
‘Oh, yeah, you were sick.’
‘Yep, the dreaded Bali belly.’
‘So, you gonna bring Frank the mean old dustman?’
‘If he behaves himself.’ She chuckles.
‘So, I’m guessing I’m invited to this shindig?’
‘Yes. You both are. Unless Alistair wants to come alone.’
She pays my quip with a half-raised eyebrow. ‘So, London?’
‘No, a destination wedding.’
‘Okay, so where are we going and when do we need to be there?’
‘Italy. In autumn.’ She writes something down on a pad next to her.
‘Date?’
‘No date yet. But we’re combining the wedding with my sister’s fortieth, so it will definitely be late October.’
‘Oh, cool. We’re heading back to Edinburgh soon and I think we’ll still be in the UK then. If not, we’ll head there from Bali.’
‘Brilliant.’ I was hoping she’d say that.
‘And who’s your planner?’ she asks.
‘My planner?’
‘Your wedding planner.’
‘Oh, uh, my sister?’ Jaelee―PR consultant and event organiser extraordinaire―makes a face. She’s clearly dubious about Sarah’s abilities in this area, so I quickly add, ‘Sarah’s very organised―very.’ This results in a head tilt and narrowed eyes. ‘She also seems pleased that the wedding will take some of the focus off her. I don’t think she’s particularly keen on turning forty. It’s a good distraction for her―the planning.’
‘Mmm.’
‘I can put you in touch with her if you like. How about that?’ I do not want to get in Jae’s bad books―no one does.
‘Acceptable,’ she says, one of her dimples making an appearance. Phew. Jaelee is the type of friend who would give you the shirt off her back―even if it cost a mint―but you might have to psych yourself up to ask for it.
‘And how are you?’ I ask, redirecting the conversation.
‘Busy. But good busy, you know. I think I’ll have to hire another person soon.’ Jaelee started her own PR company last year and she’s well on her way to building an empire. She’s incredible.
‘That’s brilliant, Jae.’
‘Actually, I need to get this proposal ready so I can send it off first thing tomorrow.’
‘I’ll let you go. Say hi to Alistair for me.’
‘I will. And Cat?’ Her mouth widens into a smile, both dimples appearing again. ‘It really is awesome news.’
‘Thank you, lovely. Talk soon.’
‘Bye.’ We end the call and I set my phone on the kitchen counter.
So, that’s four more for the guest list. I add them then regard the list.
Mum & Dad
Sarah & Josh
Lindsey & Nick
Jane
Mich (?)
Siobhan
Cécile (bleh) & Louis (maybe Alice & Abigail)
Lou & Anders
Jae & Alistair
Jean-Luc called last night. It turns out that his dad will be recovering from knee surgery at the time of our wedding, so Cécile and Louis are ‘representing the family’. Cécile, the one who calls me shrill. At least I get along with Louis. And there are enough people on my side of the aisle, so to speak, to dilute the presence of my soon-to-be (horrid) sister-in-law. And if she’s particularly awful, I’ll sic Jaelee onto her―or Sarah. Hell, maybe Lou can smother her with kindness until she can’t help but behave like a human being.
And maybe purple elephants will fly out of my arse.
Chapter Four
Sarah
Sydney
I may have gone a little overboard.
I’m seated in our lounge room literally surrounded by magazines― bridal and travel―all with Italy on the covers. And I may have stopped at the stationery shop to stock up on new folders and dividers and sticky notes. And coloured pens. And they had the most adorable wedding stickers―how was I supposed to resist those?
But it looks like Instagram exploded in here and when Josh walks in the door after work, his first words are, ‘Should I be worried?’ He crosses the room and deposits his laptop bag on the dining table, then leans down for a kiss.
A magazine falls from my lap onto the floor with a thud so loud it scares our cat, Domino, and he takes off down the hallway―Domino, that is, not Josh. ‘Why that’s, Joshua? There are people all over Sydney arriving home precisely at this moment to this exact scene.’
He sniggers and plops onto one of our armchairs, running his hands over his face then breaking into a loud yawn. ‘Sorry. Is it Friday yet?’
‘Tomorrow it is,’ I say brightly. ‘So, how’s the new team coming together?’ Josh is a software guy―he, well … you know … works on software stuff. His company has brought together a team from all over the world and Josh is now their manager. It’s a big deal, this promotion, and he deserved it but he’s looking a little peaky after only a fortnight.
‘Good. They’re a cool bunch of people, but lots of different personalities and skillsets and experience and … honestly?’
‘Always.’
‘I’m feeling a little … like I’m in over my head. I mean there are fifteen of them and one of me.’ I stack the magazines that are in my immediate proximity and set them on the table―which is also covered in magazines―then cross the room and crawl onto his lap.
This is less sexy than it may sound as I am an athletic (i.e. solid) woman of five-foot-six-inches and it’s not that big a chair. Those ballet-dancing hippopotamuses in Fantasia? They have way more grace than I do. Eventually I manage it and when I am ensconced in Josh’s arms (the best place in the world to be, in my totally biased opinion), I look deep into his eyes and say, ‘Cut the crap, Walker. You’re a bloody genius and they’re bloody lucky to have you. Okay?’
He laughs―full on ‘ha-ha-ha’ laughing, then stills and kisses me properly. ‘What do you say we call in sick tomorrow and stay in bed all day?’ he asks, his gravelly voice tinged with lust.
‘Hmm. Tempting, but my students have their practice exam tomorrow and most of them are freaking out enough as it is without me being absent.’
‘You love them more than you love me.’
‘What do you think the bridal magazines are for? Once they pass their exams―with flying colours because, like you, they are all brilliant and also because I am their teacher and I’m also brilliant―then I will be the first secondary teacher to officially marry her job.’ He shifts in the chair. ‘Oh, am I squashing you?’
‘You’re not squashing me―well, maybe a small part of me.’
‘How small?’ I ask, waggling my eyebrows cheekily.
‘Not that small―and growing by the minute.’ I lean in for a kiss and just as Josh’s hands find their way inside my waistband, a loud ‘meow’ interrupts us. We break the kiss as Domino decides this is now a family meeting and that there is room on the armchair for three.
‘For fuck’s sake, Domino. You’re so heavy!’ I pluck him off the chair and deposit him on the floor which earns me a disdainful look over his furry shoulder. Sexy moment ruined. I climb off Josh’s lap as inelegantly as I climbed onto it but before I can leave for the kitchen to feed Domino, he grasps my hand.
‘Leave him. He won’t starve.’
‘He won’t because he’s a total boombalada.’
Josh chuckles. ‘Exactly my point.’ He stands and snakes his arms around my waist, then leans down and kisses me softly. ‘How about I take a shower, wash the day away, and I meet you in the bedroom?’
His grey eyes are stormy with desire and when I lean into him, I can feel his erection straining against his jeans. ‘How about I join you in the shower and we see what happens from there?’
‘Better.’
‘Meow.’
‘Quiet, Domino,’ we say together. A miffed ‘maw’ follows, but I barely register it as Josh takes my hand and leads me to our en suite.
‘Seh-rah!’ Lindsey’s voice echoes through the house.
‘In here!’ I call.
She appears in the doorway of our spare bedroom. ‘Hey. You’re not dressed.’ I look down at my jeans and T-shirt. ‘For yoga,’ she adds.
‘Oh shit.’ I flick my wrist, my watch telling me I’ve been at this for way longer than I thought. ‘Sorry.’
‘What is all this?’ she asks, surveying the detritus of my morning’s task. I’ve been rifling through my boxes―the ones that contain everything from my Year 1 reports to dried (and crumbling) roses from my high school boyfriend to movie ticket stubs from the 90s.
‘I’m looking for a letter.’
‘From who?’
‘From me.’
‘Right.’ She leans against the doorframe and gives me a funny look.
‘It’s this letter I wrote to my future self when I was around nineteen. You know, “Dear Future Sarah … This is who I want to be when I grow up … blah, blah, blah …”.’
