Chapter 13 #2
‘I’m not sure about the feathers or the satin French knickers or…’ I say, hesitantly, ‘…the frilly stockings.’
Matteo is very much a stockings kind of guy.
The assistant looks from me to Matteo and back again.
She purses her lips and screws her eyes, thinking, assessing what kind of sex life we have.
How can she possibly comprehend, just by observing us for a few moments, the explosive, off-the-charts chemistry that we have the moment the bedroom door is closed?
How? She taps her chin with her finger before gasping lightly.
‘I have it!’ She races off, leaving us for a moment.
I wander slowly over to him. I sneak a peek around to make sure we are alone before straddling him on the sofa.
Matteo visibly swallows. His eyes drop to my breasts which, thanks to this balcony bra, are practically poking his eyes out. His hands automatically reach for my waist as I tease him by grinding against him. He lets out a low moan, closing his eyes.
‘Enjoying the show?’ I say huskily.
He gives me a piercing look. ‘Any more of this and there won’t be a show. We’ll need to go back to the hotel.’ His breathing is coming thick and fast. I place my lips on his and just as the kiss deepens, I climb off him, leaving him wanting more. His eyes are wide with lust and mischief.
The assistant scurries back in. ‘I have it!’ She waves a hand in Matteo’s direction. ‘I know what he likes.’ She gives me a slip of the softest material I’ve ever felt, smiling like a wise old cougar.
‘I’m sure I don’t need to buy new underwear,’ I say. ‘I have—’
‘Trust me.’ She all but shoves me behind the curtain.
Once I’ve put the underwear on, I glimpse myself in the full-length mirror and gasp.
‘Told you,’ she says, poking a head round the curtain with a wink. ‘Perhaps keep it a surprise for the wedding night?’
I nod. I look insanely hot. It shapes, it lifts, it fits like a glove, and it is unbelievably sexy. I must have it. I must. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
I hear her explain to Matteo that we have our foundation garments and that now we will be trying on dresses. She needs to have an idea of his taste and mine before the real selection process can begin.
Good Lord. I poke my head out to see Matteo is nodding along patiently from a standing position. His phone is in his hand. He’s probably trying to keep tabs on his business and avoid Birdie. The first dress I’m handed is a real fairy-princess number. It’s hideous.
I walk out holding up the many toile skirts and twirl for him. He breaks into a smile. ‘Perhaps if I was Prince Charming and this was a cartoon.’
The assistant clicks her tongue and ushers me back in to help me take it off. She yells through to him, ‘What are weddings like where you grew up? Traditional or modern?’
‘A mix,’ he says. ‘In Spain, weddings are all about good food, music, the many, many traditions… and family.’
‘And which is more important to you?’
We listen to Matteo take a beat.
‘Family.’
The assistant smiles. ‘You’ve got yourself a good one there. He’ll make a fine husband.’
I can feel my cheeks burn. If only she knew this was all a charade. She’d be furious. She flicks through a rack of dresses and hands me another.
‘This is the one for you.’ She bustles out and I can hear her grilling Matteo further. ‘What sort of life will you have together?’
Christ Almighty. She’s so nosy. I wish she’d just disappear and let us browse the dresses in peace.
‘Erm…’ He hesitates. Probably, like me, wondering how truthful to be about this web of lies. ‘Connie is an amazing singer-songwriter. I guess we’ll be travelling the world. Maybe base ourselves in Spain, but work between there and LA when she’s not touring.’
I feel a bloom of pride that he could even think that. Even if none of it is true.
‘You have a place in LA?’
What did I say? She’s a professional nosy parker.
‘Yes. I live there. Or, at least, I used to. We’ll see.’
‘You seem familiar. Like a movie star.’
Oh, my God. I know nothing about him or his work history. I should really ask him for his CV before we get hitched. I will the nosy parker assistant to keep badgering him for information.
‘Are you successful?’
Good question. It’s so hard to tell if he’s stinking rich or just financially comfortable, because he’s not in the slightest bit showy like Luke, who reeks of old money just by looking at him. My mind shoots back to Matteo and his battered old-lady scooter.
‘Depends on who you ask.’
‘Do you love what you do?’
‘I make music with a range of artists. It can be crazy and unpredictable. But yes, I love it.’
‘Love can make a man do crazy things,’ she says. ‘You must really love your bride to travel across the world for her.’
Gah! She’s going too far! The L bomb. We’ve only just gone exclusive. Matteo must be cringing. I wait for his reply, but none comes. Now I feel terrible. He’s being forced into a corner and interrogated.
‘How long have you been together?’ she probes.
‘Long enough.’
Clever.
‘When you know, you know,’ she says. ‘Am I right?’
‘I guess so.’
Polite yet non-committal.
‘You want children?’
I whip open the curtain, ready to rescue him.
‘You don’t have to… answer any questions,’ I say, but Matteo is laughing.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I think we settled on… was it seven or eight kids…?’ Then his jaw drops as he takes me in. His eyes travel the length of my body.
‘What do you think?’ I ask, feeling nervous. This all feels incredibly real. I look stunning. There’s no other way to describe it.
He visibly swallows, his eyes not leaving mine. Dark swirls of emotion.
‘We’ll take it,’ we say in unison to the assistant.
She smiles enigmatically as though to say, of course you will. ‘Now, sir, you next.’
* * *
A short while later, Matteo and I are carrying oversized wedding bags with huge wedding ring images on them. They will be very difficult to hide.
‘I still can’t believe you refused to try on underwear and wedding suits for the assistant. She wasn’t pleased,’ I say with a laugh. This whole morning has me giddy.
‘I can’t believe you let her bully you so easily into it.’
He’s right. ‘I basically did everything she told me to do,’ I say. ‘What does that say about me?’
Matteo stops walking. ‘It says that you are respectful and polite and very, very easily persuaded. It’s adorable.’
When the assistant tried to boss him around, he just said a flat, ‘No thanks,’ in such an authoritative tone that that was the end of it.
‘Well, you’re…’ I struggle to think of anything negative. He’s gorgeous, manly, decisive and incredibly generous and thoughtful.
‘What next? Rings?’
I nod. ‘If you’re sure? But please, I feel really guilty at how much this is all beginning to cost. Can we get some joke rings from somewhere?’
He rolls his eyes. ‘No time. Let’s just buy them now.
’ He points to the jewellery department up ahead.
It is conveniently placed near the wedding boutique.
As soon as I spot the classic gold wedding bands, slightly rounded, very simple and chic, I know that’s what I want.
The assistant gets a his ’n’ hers tray out.
She takes out a large ring with lots of smaller loops on and quickly sizes our wedding fingers.
Within seconds, she hands Matteo a very elegant platinum and gold wedding band and he tries to put it on.
It’s way too small. The assistant giggles and nods her head towards me.
Oh, gosh. She wants Matteo to put it on me. To give him credit, he takes it all in his stride. He gives me a cheeky smile. I give him one back.
After all, it’s only a bit of fun. As far as he’s concerned. Whereas my heart is beating off the scale. Blood is swooshing through my veins like a white-water rapid. This is the stuff of dreams. Quite literally, because I have dreamt about him every night since we met.
‘Where did you propose?’ the assistant asks him.
Matteo’s smile drops.
‘You didn’t propose yet?’ the assistant says.
Matteo shakes his head slowly. I try not to turn into a pile of mush as he takes my hand very gently and slips the ring onto my finger. He fixes me with those dark swirls, and I feel myself literally melt. ‘Connie. Will you marry me?’
My whole being is suddenly flooded with every emotion known to humankind. Tears prick at my eyes.
I love him.
I do.
I love him.
In this moment, all I want to do is tell my mother how much I love him. I wish she could see how happy I am. I wish she could see how happy he makes me. I wish she was around so that she could get to know him. I wish with my entire soul that this was real.
‘Yes,’ I say, my voice breaking. ‘I’ll marry you.’
And without warning, I burst into tears.