Chapter Eight
The lift pinged open and Nick and I stepped out onto our luxurious, carpeted, deathly quiet floor. I yawned.
‘I feel like I need a lie-down in a darkened room,’ I said.
It had suddenly hit me, I think, the long journey and then the energy it took to be constantly upbeat/interesting/not offended when I was around Nick’s family.
‘Is it all getting a bit much for you?’ asked Nick, looking sheepish. ‘I know my family can be hard work, but they mean well.’
I followed Nick down the corridor wondering what a suitable response would be. It was tricky with families, wasn’t it? I mean, I couldn’t even navigate my own successfully, let alone anyone else’s.
‘Think I just need a nap,’ I said as we arrived outside our room.
‘That’s a shame,’ said Nick, putting his hands on my waist and spinning me around so that my back was pressed up against the door. ‘I had a more adventurous way to spend the next hour in mind …’
He kissed me hard, trailing his hand suggestively along the outside of my thigh, running it under the hem of my dress.
‘Nick,’ I said, laughing lightly. ‘Not here.’
I didn’t feel in the mood, but Lou’s voice rang in my ear. Don’t get too comfortable. And have regular sex!
Nick blindly fumbled around with the key. It would be easier, I thought, if he just let me go and concentrated on opening the door rather than trying to do two things at once.
‘You look beautiful today,’ he said huskily, kissing my neck, still trying to open the door.
‘Even if I do look more high-street than high-end,’ I said, laughing it off.
‘Why can’t I get this bloody key to work?’ groaned Nick with frustration.
I gently eased him off me, worried that somebody would see us in the corridor. ‘Here, let me,’ I said, taking it from him.
I tapped the key on the pad: it worked first time.
Inside, Nick was still very much up for it and I tried my best not to overthink things and to just be in the moment and to enjoy being with him. Sex didn’t need to be mind-blowing every time, not with us. We had lots of other things going for us. Lots and lots of things.
Afterwards, I thought I’d be able to drift off into a delicious post-sex slumber, but instead my mind was whirring.
Should I have enjoyed it more? Why did we always do it in the missionary position?
Should I tell Nick I wanted to mix things up a bit and would it hurt his feelings if I did?
Eventually, to shut out the noise, I got out of bed, telling Nick I needed to freshen up.
As I stood under the rain shower head, letting it pound my shoulders and drench my face (while keeping my hair as dry as was humanly possible, of course), I decided that what I needed was a bit of space to clear my head.
A nice late-afternoon walk around Florence – on my own – before dinner should do it.
Nick watched me as I got dressed. He seemed content and pleased with himself and relaxed, all the things I wished I could be.
I’d been looking forward to this trip so much.
It felt like a big moment, the next step in our lives together.
I’d had a tiny flutter of nerves, obviously, as anyone would meeting their fiancé’s family for the first time, but I’d been hopeful.
I still was, in a way, because even if things hadn’t got off to the best of starts, it was early days, wasn’t it?
I needed to remember how great Nick and I were together, and to believe that eventually his parents would see that, too.
‘Mum’s pressuring me to set a date for the wedding. Are we still thinking next spring?’ asked Nick, yawning and stretching.
I pulled on a pair of jeans. I felt like being casual, and the sun was going down now so it would be cooler out.
‘I think so,’ I said. It felt a bit too soon but then, I suppose, why wait?
‘Mum thinks we ought to bring it forward. She’s got a venue in mind – somewhere in Oxfordshire. She said the colours are lovely there in the autumn and it’s surrounded by trees. Apparently it looks beautiful in pictures.’
‘I’ve never even been to Oxfordshire.’
What I really wanted to say was: please could you tell your mother to stay out of it?
I didn’t know which was worse, Rosamund sticking her oar in, or my mum, who was so caught up with my twin half-sisters’ graduation that she’d barely asked me anything about my impending wedding.
She loved Nick, or, more accurately, she was impressed that I was marrying someone with money, like she had the second time around (her words, not mine), but she didn’t seem particularly interested in the detail.
‘She’s trying to help, I guess,’ said Nick.
I sighed. ‘I know. But remember how we decided we didn’t want a huge wedding? Small and intimate was what we said, wasn’t it? I hate being the centre of attention and it would really freak me out to have hundreds of people I’d never even met staring at me as I walked down the aisle.’
Nick winced, sucking air in through his teeth. ‘Thing is, we’ve got quite a large extended family. Mum loves weddings, and she adores you. She wants to show you off.’
‘What’s the rush?’ I said. ‘If we get married next year like we’ve planned, it will give us a bigger run-up. More time to organise stuff and look for dresses. That’ll make your mum happy, surely?’
Nick sat up, propping himself up on the fluffiest pillows I’d ever slept on.
‘Once Mum gets a bee in her bonnet about something, it’s hard to change her mind.’
‘But it’s our day, Nick. It’s for us to decide.’
‘I know,’ he said, changing tack. ‘Let’s not worry about it now. What do you feel like doing?’
My phone beeped and I picked it up, hoping it was Lou with some encouraging words or one of her wise quotes. It wasn’t, it was bloody Tim.
anything to send in? want to start putting the city break teaser together.
Great.
‘I’m going to have to pop out and shoot some footage,’ I said. ‘Tim’s hassling me.’
Nick tutted. ‘Tell him you’re on holiday.’
‘I’ve tried that.’
‘Well then, I’ll come with you.’
Nick threw back the covers, getting up. I’d been looking forward to going out on my own and he’d really annoyed me bringing his mum into the equation when it came to our wedding date.
I could just tell she was chomping at the bit to get full control over everything from the invitations to the honeymoon.
She’d probably already picked out the bridesmaids’ dresses – Versace or something, no doubt.
‘I think it would be easier on my own,’ I said tactfully. ‘It’ll be boring for you.’
But Nick was already pulling on his (ankle-skimming) trousers and I realised that I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. Maybe Nick was more like his mum than I’d realised. I hadn’t noticed it before, but now I came to think about it, he didn’t seem to take no for an answer, either.
I picked up my camera and my bag. ‘Come on then,’ I said. ‘You can be my assistant. And absolutely no complaining.’
Nick grinned. ‘I will follow your every command. Without a hint of a whinge.’
I gave him a dubious look. ‘I thought you hated other people telling you what to do.’
He opened the door, ushering me through. ‘Ah, but you’re not just “other people”.’