Chapter Forty-Three
Tiago reaches for my hand.
‘What are you doing?’
He leans in close, his breath tickles my neck and a jolt of electricity runs through me.
To be expected when I’m attending yet another tedious family wedding where my voice has been silenced.
Cousin Ida, with her bouffant hair, is in the middle of her vows, prettily crying her way through them.
At least her groom didn’t dance his way up the aisle, he seems rather tame so far, so I am managing to keep my thoughts to myself.
Now, I’ve only got to manage Tiago who is taking liberties such as these.
‘Didn’t we agree we’ve got to make it believable? Our relationship?’
That. We conferred earlier and decided that in the best interests of everyone, namely our mothers, we’d pretend our blossoming (faux) romance is going from strength to strength in the hopes the extended family don’t bother me today.
They can’t exactly ask why my love life is a flop when I have a specimen like Tiago trailing happily behind me.
And also because there are members of Tiago’s extended family in attendance and it’s guaranteed they’ll be reporting our every move back to Zeliá.
Tiago attempts to take my hand in his again and this time I allow it.
And quickly after, regret it, when a number of heads swivel in our direction, swivelling away from bride Ida, who will not be happy when she watches that on the video replay.
I do my best to keep my mouth clamped and to keep my palm secure in Tiago’s.
‘You look beautiful, Viviane,’ he whispers, sending another volt through me.
‘They can’t hear you, Tiago. Save your compliments for the reception when the family descend.’
Honestly, he’s going to get me kicked out for all this chitchat, even though he’s pressed hard against me on the pew, his mouth so close to my ear I can feel his breath on my skin.
‘What?’
Bride Ida pauses her vows and sends an evil glare my way.
‘Please refrain from talking,’ I say and angle my head towards him only to accidentally swipe my lips across his, due to his absolute clear lack of spatial awareness.
My heart thrums hard again, and being a twenty-nine-year-old woman in the prime of my life, I suspect a heart attack is imminent.
I’m positive that Cousin Ida would prefer I risk leaving it too late to get medical intervention than to interrupt her vows by calling for help.
Could it be a heart issue, or is it a symptom of being close to Tiago?
Does the man make my heart race? My pulse quicken?
Just like in the books? I fear so. But what to do about it?
Dare I risk messy, complicated love? Getting myself entangled with a Portuguese family?
I run the risk of more people visiting unannounced and another mother to contend with. And Zeliá is no shrinking violet.
I give his hand a tentative squeeze back.
Yes, more internal fireworks. This is a dilemma.
My closed-for-business heart has been shocked back to life, as if Tiago himself put the paddles to my chest, yelled Clear!
and restarted it. But am I really ready to trust in love again?
Especially with a man like Tiago who doesn’t stick to a schedule, wears slouchy clothes, has a gold medal in speaking the longest run-on sentences and honk laughs when he gets overexcited?
Shouldn’t I be searching for someone a little more circumspect?
Contained. Quiet? Clarity dawns, the heart wants what the heart wants.
Once again, romance novels are the fount of knowledge when it comes to the art of love.
Still, panic sets in. What if Tiago isn’t the man I think he is?
Does it matter? Should I take a risk for love?
And let’s be honest, it’s not quite love, not yet.
A slight lean towards adoration is the best I can do right now.
It seems my meddlesome mother was right, I am missing some integral part of the human experience – friendship. It does make life more fulfilling.
The sound of clapping breaks me from reverie as Ida and her groom walk down the aisle hand in hand. Part of me wonders if this wedding nonsense has addled my brain, and whether that was my interfering mother’s plan all along.
As expected, the reception is interminable. We’re accosted by family members, zeroing in from every direction, which takes its toll too.
‘Your turn next, Viviane, eh?’ Aunt Rose says with a lascivious wink.
‘I think not.’
‘And who is this spunk?’ Aunt Anna waggles her brows. ‘I’m Anna.’ She gives poor Tiago a coquettish smile. Honestly.
I leave him to it and turn the other cheek while an uncle lumbers over. ‘You better treat her right, or else.’ He glowers at Tiago, but my faithful sidekick just laughs it off. It’s always the way in families like ours.
Another uncle appears. ‘No funny business, OK? Not before you marry her. We don’t want any shame on the family.’ He sounds like a bit actor from The Godfather but it’s just his way.
I would die of embarrassment but there’s no time as the hits just keep on coming.
Cousin Ida, the blushing bride, slinks over. She’s the slinking sort. ‘Ooh, I heard you managed to find a plus one, Vi. Did you have to hire him?’
I take a lighter from my purse and that soon sorts that little problem. She skitters away clutching her precious bouffant, falling into Uncle Tony who bellows like a seal.
‘What’s with the lighter?’ Tiago asks.
‘Oh, this? How did that get there?’ I put it back in my purse.
‘Your family are as crazy as mine.’
‘Is there any other kind?’
The noise ramps up as the dancing starts. I’m tempted to don my headphones, that’s what I’d normally do at this juncture, but with Tiago beside me I don’t need them. I can shut out the white noise just by looking at him.
Tiago is surveying me; his thick black lashes and beautiful dark eyes have the ability to quiet my mind because it’s like looking into calming waters. ‘Viviane, do you need a moment outside?’ How does he always sense exactly what I need, even before I do?
‘Yes.’
Outside the cathedral, the panoramic view of Porto is postcard perfect. The salty sea air whips my hair back and blows away the worry on the wind. I can breathe out here. Take a moment to centre myself again.
‘That was fun!’ Tiago laughs. ‘Your uncles, wow.’
Uncle Hugo prides himself on being the patriarch of the family, unfortunately, his views are antiquated to say the least. ‘It’s OK, Tiago.
I’m not expecting a proposal so feel free to ignore him.
However, I do have something to broach with you, and I’d rather do that here, before we addle our minds with a glass of wine. ’
‘This sounds serious.’
‘Very.’
‘I’m all ears.’
Why as a species are we so taken with ears? ‘Tiago, in the short time I’ve known you, you have grown on me, fast, much like fungus.’
‘I’m …’
I hold up a hand to silence him. ‘If you’re amenable, I’d like you to consider the plus one position on a longer basis.
I make no promises on forever because who knows when love will die.
Yes, in some cases love lasts forever, but in others it’s merely short, sharp bursts.
I’m willing to give it a shot, either way. ’
His eyebrows dance, at what I can’t imagine. ‘You’re asking me to officially date you?’
‘Yes, officially. And just so you know I will not be giving up my autonomy.’ And if Tiago is pulled back to London for work, then I guess we figure that out then. Who knows what the future will bring? I just have to be open to it.
‘I’d love to make things official. I’m – I’m happy that I’ve grown on you like … fungus. That is rather romantic. And at the risk of sounding corny, as soon as I saw you at the café, I knew you were the one for me.’
‘How?’
He shrugs. ‘I just knew. And so, I had to talk to you.’
‘And that’s when we found out we both enjoyed the exploits of Detective Amber Quill. If not for that, our conversation wouldn’t have gone much further that day.’ Funny how the world works in such mysterious ways.
‘If I’d said I’d never heard of her, you would have ended our chat?’ He frowns, with a worried look in his eyes.
‘Yes. I was trying to end the conversation, but you kept talking.’
He blanches. Have I hurt his feelings? ‘But it’s OK, Tiago, because your choice of reading material is top-notch and here we are. Official.’
He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I’m worried that we’re starting off on the wrong foot as sometimes I’m unnecessarily blunt. That’s forgotten when he says, ‘May I?’ He tilts his head towards mine, his lips a breath away.
‘You may.’
He pulls me into his warm embrace, and as expected I feel so very safe in his arms, like I can trust him, and he means what he says.
When we kiss my body melts into his as if we are one person.
When we break apart, breathless, heart thrumming, I’m woozy from his proximity.
I feel like my love is written all over every line and plane of my face, like it is with Tiago’s.