behaviour had been bad, but was it unforgivable?
‘Laurel sent a message that she couldn’t make this meeting because she’s helping Dani—’ Carlo was obviously trying to be tactful ‘—but I’ll get the papers to her for her signature at some point today.’
Interrupting a wedding for a divorce.
The irony of it didn’t escape him. He’d already briefed his pilot to be ready to fly him to Sardinia as soon as he could reasonably extricated himself. But first he had to get through the ordeal of his sister’s wedding. And so did Laurel.
He hoped she had more inhalers packed in her suitcase because if stress was the trigger then she was going to need them.
He turned, feeling less in control than he would have liked. ‘Do what needs to be done. I have to go and play ringmaster to this circus.’
Carlo’s lips twitched. ‘When I saw the flowers and the little white ponies I thought I’d stepped into a fairy tale. It’s typical Dani.’
‘My sister is obsessed with happy ever afters.’ But Laurel wasn’t. She didn’t believe in happy ever afters. He still remembered how, during their wedding, she’d kept touching him to check it was real. His hand. His face. Tell me this is happening. That I’m not going to wake up.
For a brief moment he’d never seen anyone so happy and it had given him a real high to know that he was the one who had won her trust. A high, quickly followed by a stomach-swooping low when it had all gone so badly wrong.
For Laurel the ending hadn’t been happy.
It had been one gigantic car crash.
‘It fits perfectly.’ Dani stood back and studied Laurel. ‘You look beautiful.’
‘We both know I am nowhere close to beautiful but thanks anyway. You, however, do look beautiful, which is a good job given that you’re the bride.’ Laurel smiled and fussed over her friend, hiding her pain behind activity. ‘You’re the one everyone is looking at.’ Thank goodness. The truth was she didn’t want to be wearing this pale silk sheath and carrying a small posy of sunny yellow gerberas. Not only did they not match her mood, but they reminded her too much of her own wedding. A day she was desperately trying to push from her memory.
She and Cristiano had married in the private chapel that had been in the Ferrara family for centuries. They’d married on a rush of impulse and a breathless tumble of happiness.
Dani had opted for a wedding on the beach attended, it seemed, by half the population of Sicily.
Laurel was relieved that this wedding was going to be so dramatically different from hers. There would be nothing to trigger uncomfortable memories. No nostalgia here. She just needed to get through it and go home.
Fortunately Cristiano had left the villa before she’d woken, which had spared them both another agonizing encounter. But now she was dreading the moment when she laid eyes on him again. He seemed determined to rake over the past and she had no wish to do that.
And as for that kiss—
So the man could kiss. That didn’t change anything. A kiss wasn’t love.
Hands not entirely steady, she adjusted Dani’s veil. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Oh, yes. You?’
Never. Laurel smiled. ‘Absolutely. Let’s do it.’ Let’s get it over with, then I can go home. Her flight was booked for the next day. All she had to do was survive the wedding, the dinner and one more night in the villa.
She would concentrate on her friend. She wasn’t going to look at Cristiano.
If she needed distraction then she’d think about the fitness programme she was putting together for a client struggling with her weight. The woman had suffered serious health problems and it had been a challenge to devise a programme that would gradually build her strength without putting too much stress on her body.
It was the part of the job she loved most. Helping people grow fitter. Improving their lives. Showing them that they could make good choices.
She walked towards the door but Dani caught her arm. ‘Wait for me. I want to be there to see Cristiano’s face when he first sees you in that dress.’
‘You never give up, do you?’
‘Not when something is worth fighting for. I know you still love him.’
The words jolted Laurel out of her self-imposed semitrance. ‘Move, or you’re going to be late for your own wedding.’
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘This is your wedding day! You’re the subject.’ She wasn’t in love with him. Definitely not. It was always going to be an emotional time. That short lapse last night didn’t mean anything.
‘But—’
‘You’re keeping the groom waiting.’
As Laurel walked with Dani across the flower-strewn terrace, she had reason to be grateful for her friend’s flamboyant style. Her own wedding had been small and intimate. An exchange of vows between two lovers and their closest friends and family. Dani had opted to make her wedding as big a party as possible and at least two hundred guests were seated on the enormous terrace that overlooked the beach.
Laurel stooped and rearranged the generous folds of her friend’s dress, noticing with some relief that her fingers were now completely steady.
She had no idea what Cristiano’s reaction to her dress was because she wasn’t looking at him when he strode onto the terrace and she had plenty of reasons to keep herself otherwise occupied as he carried out his responsibilities as head of the family.
The only slightly rocky moment came when Laurel found herself face to face with his mother.
‘You are back.’ Not even the hot Sicilian sun could make up for the lack of warmth and Laurel knew exactly why she was being subjected to disapproval.
To Francesca Ferrara, a woman who could trace her lineage right back to the fifteenth century and earlier, Laurel must have been the daughter-in-law from hell. A mongrel, who had failed to fulfil that most basic requirement of a good Sicilian wife—turning a blind eye to her husband’s bad behaviour.
‘I’m back just for the wedding. Then I’m leaving.’
Fortunately, at that moment the string quartet started playing and the ceremony began, sparing Laurel an awkward conversation.
Relieved, she focused on her role as maid of honour. It was impossible not to be aware that people were looking at her, but she concentrated her attention on her friend, allowing the faces around her to blur.
As Dani spoke her vows and took Raimondo’s hand, a lump formed in Laurel’s throat.
Hadn’t she done the same at her own wedding? She’d been so blissfully happy, so convinced that this couldn’t possibly be happening to her, that she’d had to check it was real. The priest had been shocked but Cristiano had just laughed and immediately lifted back
