His words barely computed as her eyes lingered on him, sliding from head to toe just as he was doing with her.
‘God, you look stunning.’ He was still breathless, but in a sexy, ‘I want you right now’ kind of way rather than because he’d legged it through the villa.
‘You scrub up rather well yourself,’ she said just as breathlessly. ‘But back up to what you said before?’
He stepped into the room and glanced around.
‘Polly’s just nipped outside to call her husband.’
Rhys nodded. ‘Your phone. Jarek’s tracking you using your number, that’s why he knows where you’ve been and why you didn’t come back here the other night, because he can see where you are. GPS tracking.’
The warm glow Lola had woken up with that morning evaporated. She dropped the mascara on the dressing table and breathed deeply, cursing herself for not having thought of the obvious. Her concern had been what her friends had been posting on social media; she hadn’t even considered he could be doing something like this.
She met Rhys’s solid, reassuring gaze. ‘How can he do that?’
‘He probably has an app that he uses to search your number. You told me you never changed it, just blocked him, right?’
‘Shit. Shit! I should have changed it, but I didn’t think. Why would someone go to such lengths?’
‘A normal sane person wouldn’t. He’s your ex – you believed you were done with him.’
‘But Iknewwhat he was like. I had an idea of what he was capable of, that was why I left him. I should have taken the threat of his controlling behaviour more seriously.’ Trying to get a grip on the panic clawing its way up her chest, Lola took another deep breath. She smoothed her hands down the front of her floral dress and met Rhys’s eyes. ‘You really think he’s tracking me using my phone rather than spying on me?’ She shuddered.
‘I think so. But if you keep your phone switched off, he won’t be able to see where you go today, it’ll only show the last location as here.’
‘You think he’s going to show up? At the wedding?’ The rising panic was going to swallow her whole, and tears welled.
Rhys moved swiftly and wrapped his arms around her. ‘I don’t know. I hope not, but let’s not make it easy for him, yeah?’
* * *
Lola heeded Rhys’s advice and powered down her phone. In the speedboat on their way to Villa Sereno to help Mirabel get ready, she confided to Deni, Sarah and Polly about Rhys’s realisation. Deni cursed her stupidity that she hadn’t thought of that herself, then promised she’d take plenty of photos to make up for Lola not being able to take any on her phone. She also pointed out that it would be the perfect opportunity for Lola to live in the moment rather than seeing the wedding framed by a screen. Lola appreciated her friend putting such a rose-tinted spin on the situation and shoved her anxiety deep down, easy enough to do when she was swept up in the excitement of the day by her friends.
With Mark and Jenny’s husband joining the men of the Serra family downstairs, Lola, Sarah, Polly and Jenny joined Felicity, Giada and Fabs’s sisters in Mirabel’s room. A make-up artist was just putting the finishing touches to Mirabel’s face – subtle summer-inspired make-up that accentuated rather than overpowered her natural beauty. Giada and Felicity fussed over everyone, handing out glasses of prosecco and peach juice, admiring dresses and tucking pins back into wayward curls. Lola had left her chin-length hair down and had scrunched it into soft waves. Her plum-blue floral dress hugged her curves and flowed into a long skirt, and she’d paired it with heels and a clutch that matched the colour of her nails.
While the family busied about getting more drinks, the friends helped Mirabel into her wedding dress. With her glossy chestnut hair twisted into a loose updo and an ivory dress with an embroidered bodice leading to a silky skirt that gave an elegant silhouette, Lola choked back happy tears as Giada and Felicity gasped.
‘Just a couple of hours to go,’ Deni whispered as the friends hugged Mirabel.
It had been Mirabel and Fabs’s choice to forgo certain traditions. They wanted all of their friends to be a part of the day and to enjoy it, so they’d chosen not to have a best man or bridesmaids, and for Fabs to see his bride before she walked down the aisle. Once Felicity had secured the pearl and blue topaz filigree pendant Mirabel had chosen in the jewellery shop in Bosa, the women joined the rest of the family downstairs and awaited Fabs’s arrival with his friends to hand Mirabel her white and blue bouquet.
Lola had always believed they were the perfect couple, but witnessing the look of love Fabs gave as Mirabel accepted her bouquet cemented that thought. Fabs kissed her gently and the cheers from the Italians were echoed by everyone else as Giada and Felicity stepped forward with a dish filled with wheat, rice, coins, sugared almonds and rose petals. Together they raised it high and smashed it on the ground in front of Fabs and Mirabel.
Mirabel had explained that the tradition was a blessing for the bride and groom, and the contents now scattered across the paving stones were symbols of abundance, love, wealth and wisdom. Lola fought back tears; what it symbolised to her was the families’ love for their children and the safety her friend had marrying Fabs. Giada and Felicity embraced, and the men did too. On the cusp of becoming a family, they’d allowed bygones be bygones. Lola dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Yes, waterproof mascara had been a must for today.
* * *
Sardinia was an island of contrasts, from the seductive romance of white sand beaches and clear turquoise sea to the swathes of forest and green-clad hills inland. Having taken a travel sickness tablet, Lola was actually able to enjoy the journey, her battering heart calming the further they drove. The luxurious family estate on a vibrant and wealthy part of the coast contrasted with the peaceful countryside location of the wedding.
Despite having seen countless photos of the wedding venue, the reality of Il Giardino in Sardinia’s Nuoro region took her breath away. With its backdrop of soaring limestone mountains, the sprawling hotel was nestled amongst juniper and olive trees, green and peaceful.
From the moment they set foot in the grounds, everything was seamless; their overnight bags were taken care of, while glasses of prosecco were placed in their hands as they milled around on a terrace shaded by an ancient olive tree. Vivaldi’sThe Four Seasons’ joyous and upbeat Spring movement accompanied the guests’ chatter as canapés of sweet pepper crostini, mini bruschetta and olives were served.
Il Giardino was a treasure trove of outdoor terraces and gardens, interspersed between whitewashed buildings with terracotta roofs. Wooden doorways painted in shades of ocean-blue and dusky-pink were like portals into a secret world: a rooftop terrace with epic views; an orchard with a path meandering through swaying grasses; and an enclosed patio shaded by trees and blooming with cherry-red flowers.
After the welcome drinks, the guests were led to where the wedding ceremony would take place. Rows of white chairs were set out on a red-bricked terrace dappled by sunlight. Decorative sprays of white, blue and blush-pink flowers adorned the terrace, and roses climbed a white wall on one side, while the green trees were the only other decoration. Nothing more was needed besides Fabs and Mirabel and a backdrop of mountain and sky.
Lola sat alongside her friends behind Mirabel’s family, with the groom’s family and friends on the other side of the aisle. Lola’s eyes were drawn to Rhys, and the stolen glances between them assured her that he was thinking about her as much as she was about him. The air was alive with insects and butterflies, while sunshine and shadows played across the guests through a canopy of leaves. Beyond the bride, groom and the mayor who was officiating the ceremony, the mountain soared towards the sky, its pale, dove-grey rock broken up by the green trees and bushes clinging to the hillside. The wedding must have cost a fortune, but for all their wealth it was somehow rustic, perfectly balanced with a touch of luxury. The blend of Italian and English, the traditional and unique, was everything.