Page 13 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

He was classy, fit and naturally elegant, while I was everything but. He really must have seen in me something that no one else did. Which, by the way, I’m still trying to figure out. When would he tire of my wacky ways and not quite classic poise? And I still dressed like Ernie fromSesame Streeton the odd day. Note to self: horizontal stripes never did anyone any favors, let alone me. Did Humpty Dumpty wear stripes, as well? I can’t remember. Which is also why I needed Paul to take care of the styling, to make sure I looked as fabulous as I hoped this wedding was going to be.

So yes, all in all, with my lifesaver wedding planner by my side, and my life partner who put up with me daily, things had to go smoothly. There were going to be no wedding worries whatsoever. I could get to that day serene and relaxed. One can always hope.

*

The next Saturday morning, with the Matera Brainstormers just gone, Paul cooked the kids flapjacks in the kitchen, while Julian and I sat at the dining room table in front of our laptops. He worked on his sports novel, while I worked on my mystery novel, Where Have All The Guests Gone? I checked the world news to see if there was any new financial crisis I was unaware of, checked my emails, our website and any sign of life from A Taste of Tuscany on Facebook.

‘Still nothing,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Absolutely nothing.’

Julian looked up from his screen. ‘What’s that, love?’

‘No bookings,’ I explained, stabbing at the keyboard to bring up any ideas to save us. I had a couple of marketing ideas in the making.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him still watching me. Did I have coffee on my upper lip? Or was he finally starting to worry, too? ‘Can’t get over how gorgeous I am, huh?’ I quipped, still surfing away, a woman on a mission.

‘Look at us,’ he said, pushing back his chair.

‘What?’

‘Look at us, sitting at the same table, our laptops back to back.’

‘I know, we’re cute,’ I answered, going back to my task.

Actually, we only did this on the weekends. During the week, he had his coffee in his study and didn’t come out until lunchtime. Weekends were a treat for me.

‘We look like we’re playing Battleship,’ he continued.

‘Yeah…?’ I said, scrolling down the names of all the other B & Bs in the area, a pad beside me while I checked their availability calendars. And their social media presence. You never knew, there may have been something obvious that I hadn’t thought of.

If I could figure out why everyone else was booked and we weren’t… Thiswasa battle, no bones about it, and our ship was definitely going to be sinking unless I performed a miracle. Remember my words.

Julian stood up with a scrape of his chair and pulled my own back. ‘This is ridiculous. Let’s go.’

I looked up from the screen, blinking. ‘What? Where?’

‘Paul?’ he called into the kitchen, and Paul appeared in his bright red apron, my bright red spatula in his hand.

‘Change your mind about the flapjacks?’ Paul asked.

‘Watch the kids will you, please? We’re going for our usual Saturday morning stroll.’

I frowned. ‘We don’t have a usual Saturday morning stroll.’

He took my hand. ‘We do now. Come on.’

‘O-K…’ I figured something was on his mind and he needed to talk.

‘What’s up?’ I said finally as he parked on the edge of Castellino.

He flicked the jeep alarm on and put his arm around me casually.

‘Nothing. I just think we’re becoming computer slaves.’

I snorted. Was this a ploy to get me off the computer? He was one to talk.

‘So you’re handwriting your books from now on?’

‘Silly. I just think we spend too much time working. And worrying.’

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