Page 80 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

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Hotel Villa Etrusca was a medieval castle that had been well preserved and renovated over the years so that almost everything was original and yet in mint condition. Surrounded by acres and acres of green lawns and parks, five different pools and a botanical garden with a huge ornate glass greenhouse that looked like Palm House at Kew Gardens in London, it was one of the most stunning hotels in the region.

Once inside, it was like being in church. Huge, quiet and cool.

‘It’s almost intimidating, isn’t it?’ Julian whispered.

‘I feel like I’m going to get down on my knees and start praying,’ I whispered back as the polished receptionist welcomed us and a bellboy showed us to our room.

And to think we were both experts in hotels, me for running them and him for staying in them. We thought we’d seen them all. But Hotel Villa Etrusca really took the cake.

Our room was about as big as six Farthington Hotel rooms put together, with polished marble floors covered in antique yet pristine rugs. The headboard of the bed was massive, as was the bathroom.

‘You freshen up – I’ll see you in a bit,’ Julian said as he kissed the tip of my nose.

‘If I can ever find my way out of the bathroom,’ I quipped, my mood once again restored. This was going to be fantastic!

When I stepped out of the luxurious shower about a lifetime later, a beautiful turquoise gown was waiting for me. A gown my size, and not Sienna’s. Proof, if ever I needed any.

Instant shame fell over me, enveloping me with its heavy folds. How could I have ever,everdoubted Julian? He was my one true north, my beacon in the night. He was my one constant since I’d met him. And I had let myself be so insecure as to doubt him.

I put on the dress, feeling every ounce a monster. I’d suspected Julian of cheating on me and even kissed another guy out of spite, when all my man had done was organize a romantic getaway. Could I have sunk any lower?

We sat at an elegant table on the balcony, the yachts out at sea like little tadpoles dotting the calm surface, Julian happy and humming as he poured me some wine to go with our amazing cannelloni with game sauce.

But my sense of guilt was catching up with me with a vengeance. Throughout the entire meal I was edgy, trying to smile when all I could see, like in a nightmare, was Alberto’s mouth closing in on me, blotting out everything else. I pushed the horrible memory away so abruptly, I sat up and gasped.

‘What’s wrong, sweetie?’ Julian murmured, taking my hand.

‘Nothing,’ I lied, wishing I could erase my mistake, wishing it had never happened.

With that kiss I’d fallen to the lowest rungs of a relationship. I was no good at hiding things from Julian, but this would have to be an exception. Things at the moment were rocky and I didn’t want to risk pushing him over the edge. It would be my secret. And of course Alberto’s. Because he certainly wouldn’t be bragging about it. I couldn’t confess this to anyone, not even Paul or Renata. I just hoped the chef didn’t have a big mouth.

And then I looked back at Julian, who was popping a bottle of…

‘Tattinger?’ I squeaked.

‘I ordered it last week. Two crates, for our happy moments. Only the best for my girl.’

Ohgodohgodohgod…

‘Erica, I love you so much and I feel awful for what I’ve put you through,’ he said softly, his voice choked, his eyes shining. ‘I promise I’ll make it up to you. Don’t give up on me, sweetie.’

It was all there, in the warmth of his voice, the contours of his face, the tenderness in his hand as he held mine. He truly did love me – and I was a letch.

‘Oh, no, no, no…!’ I blurted before my hand could stop the words spilling out of my mouth.

Julian’s brow creased. ‘What’s wrong?’

Tears blurred my vision.

‘Please tell me that’s a happy reaction to Tattinger? I can’t bear to see you cry, sweetheart.’

He took my hand and kissed my palm. And I totally lost it.

‘I-I have to tell you something…’ Now I know I said I wouldn’t, but I couldn’t start a new life on a lie, now could I? I wiped the seat of my forehead and cleared my throat. ‘I-I knew about the champagne… and the hotel…’

Julian’s eyebrows lifted.

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