Chapter 21
Late May
I swipe through the photos on my tablet, Rob leaning into me in the back of the limo for a better view of the pictures. The comforting pressure of his shoulder against mine increases as the car hugs a corner.
I zoom in on one. “I can’t believe the photographer sent these already. She must’ve been up all night.”
“Well, that’s the VIP treatment, I guess,” Rob observes. “Check out this one.”
It’s a close-up of me and my husband, newly married (slash, remarried) the day before, gazing at each other as we shared our vows inside the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens Palm House.
Our profiles are in crisp focus, the leaves of the huge palms and the brightly attired guests fading into the background, as they had for us in that moment.
I scroll through, getting to the reception photos — my sister, with husband and child, grinning widely, seconds before Theo threw a tantrum and Adam took him back to their hotel.
Lots of me with Laura and Mum, who is very elegant and quintessentially English in her mother-of-the-bride outfit and fascinator.
Laura is pretty in a pale green dress, and then me, in my Lana Turner wedding gown and wavy glamor-hair.
The swing band getting everyone on the palm-fringed dance floor, Suzie in a 50s-style polka-dot dress jiving with Don, plus images of my choir friends singing during the band’s break.
Me and Rob from behind, his brown hand pushing my hair off my pale neck, his thumb caressing my new tree tattoo, which he can’t seem to leave alone.
The two of us outside, getting into a limo, confetti thrown with abandon by our cheering guests, the Palm House illuminated in the background.
It’s perfect. Well, almost perfect. The only person missing from the beautiful images is David.
“These are gorgeous. It looks like the best wedding of all time.” I kiss Rob on the shoulder.
“It was the best wedding of all time.” He touches his lips to mine. “And now we’re about to have the best honeymoon of all time.”
“I don’t doubt it. But at some point you need to tell me where we’re going.”
“True. I’m leaving it until the last moment, got it?”
“Got it. I packed layers for mixed cool and warm weather, as instructed, so it’s not the tropics. Having had my luggage whipped away, it’s now out of my hands.”
Rob laughs. “Don’t worry. I’m certain this is somewhere you’d want to go.”
“Why, have we ever discussed this place?”
“Well, yes and no. Not since your accident. So no, for you. But I’m sure.”
“Okaay . . . I trust you.” And I do.
He grins. “No, you don’t. But you will.”
The car pulls to a stop, and Rob helps me out. There’s a huge, sprawling, low-rise building ahead of us, with large rotating doors, and travelers with wheeled cases moving in and out of them.
“Well,” I observe, “we’re at JFK. No big surprises yet.”
Rob places a hand at my waist, guiding me forward. “This way.”
I have only an overnight bag with me, as my luggage was taken away before the wedding, so I’m carefree as we approach a small security checkpoint servicing VIP passengers.
With me still no wiser as to our destination, Rob leads me onto the tarmac, toward a small jet with an open door and steps leading up to it.
My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me?” I slap Rob on the arm. “You chartered a freakin’ private jet?”
He smiles sheepishly. “Yeah. But if we were ever going to do this, it’s going to be our honeymoon, right? Plus we have a long flight and I know how cranky you get, even in first class.”
That’s true. I shrug. “Fair enough.” A smartly dressed flight attendant holds a hand out to me as I climb the steep steps. The extravagant interior is fitted out with plush leather seats and a wide banquette with a dark-wood table.
I turn to Rob with an incredulous laugh. “Wow. This is amazing. How long a flight are we talking?”
“Around eight hours. We’ll get there at one in the morning, our time. But not local time, obviously.”
“And local time will be . . . ?”
Rob smirks. “You think I’m dumb? That would tell you which time zone we’re traveling to, so nuh-uh.”
“Ah, man! You’re killing me.” I kiss him, and plop down onto a large leather seat. “I’m good.”
In the air, I’m able to figure out we’re traveling east over the Atlantic, which must mean Europe. It also means it will be morning when we arrive. After about four hours, without telling Rob my calculations, I recline the chair for a couple of hours’ sleep.
The pilot’s voice over the intercom wakes me. “Please fasten your seatbelts, we are making our descent and will be landing in twenty minutes. Temperature on the ground is currently 61 degrees, partial sun and cloud, and the local time is 7 a.m.” I still have no clue where we are.
Swallowing hard against the pressure of the descent, I try to make out the ground through wispy clouds.
They part, and the landscape below is revealed — glittering water, but also a city that seems to be floating, and a single causeway carrying tiny cars and a miniature train from the coastal mainland.
I recognize it immediately, having taken that very same train into that city some years ago.
It’s unmistakable, and I’m thrilled with Rob’s choice.
Venice.
I turn to Rob to find him looking at me with anticipation. Perhaps I shouldn’t spoil the surprise, and let him tell me.
“Where are we?” I ask. “It’s beautiful. Obviously we’re in Europe.”
“Can’t you guess?” he leans into me, looking over my shoulder at the view below.
I feign contemplation. “A city that seems like it’s over the ocean, off a main coastline . . . Lots of water . . . Venice, maybe?”
“You got it! Right first time.” His enthusiasm is unbridled. “You pleased?”
My lips curve upwards. “So pleased. It’s so romantic. Thank you, baby. It’s perfect.”
“You always said you wanted to go. That’s not even the whole surprise — I’ve got another even more special surprise for you. Later, though.”
After disembarking and breezing through another small checkpoint, we pick up our luggage, and get a cab from the mainland airport across the causeway.
We are dropped off in the morning sunshine at a plaza.
I look around at the Grand Canal, taking in the sights, the unmistakable smells, the babble of nearby tourists, the shouting of the street vendors, the vaporetto and the majestic, ancient buildings surrounding us.
“Not too shabby, huh?” Rob murmurs.
“It’s amazing. I love it.” It doesn’t matter that I’ve been here before. It’s just as incredible as the last time, and much more romantic to be here with Rob. “Is our hotel nearby?”
“No, but this is as far as the cab goes. It’s all water taxis and ferries from here. The occasional gondola.” Rob winks.
“Oh, we have to take a gondola, I didn’t get a chance last ti—” I stop myself mid-sentence.
Rob turns to me. “What?”
I wince. I wasn’t sure when, or if, I was going to tell Rob I’ve been to Venice before. “It’s no big deal, but — I wasn’t sure how to explain.”
Rob’s expression is grim. “You’ve been here before.”
I nod, miserably. I can’t lie to him.
“With Mum, for a few days, three years ago. To celebrate getting my radio show, I booked myself a tour of the northern lakes and then met Mum in Venice.” I tilt my head to him, demanding eye contact.
“But baby, I’m so happy to be here with you.
I mean, Mum and I had a nice time, but I always dreamed of being here with a partner.
It’s so romantic. Plus our hotel was horrible, and I’m sure you’ve found somewhere amazing. ”
Rob’s brow gradually furrows, and he turns away.
I grab his arm, pressing on. “I’m sorry, baby. But this means I get my dream of being here with you. I’m so happy to be here.”
I throw my arms around his neck, rising up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, forcing him to acknowledge me. “Thank you. Thank you.” I kiss him again and again. “I love you.”
He turns back to me, shrugging it off. “It’s fine. Not your fault. No big deal. I guess I wanted to discover it together, that’s all. But it’s fine.”
“And we will discover it together,” I insist. “I hardly saw any of the city last time, really, just a couple of major tourist points, then a day out on the islands. There are so many parts of the city I want to explore, and wander round, hang out — we’ve got ten days, right? It’ll be like brand new for me, too.”
Rob presses his lips together. “Of course. No problem, Josie, it’ll be great. I’m being a baby.” He grabs our cases. “Right, let’s see about that water taxi.”
Rob’s mood improves as our boat glides along the Grand Canal, the largest of the canals that snake through the city.
We come to a halt at a dock in front of the Gritti Palace Hotel, an incredible fifteenth-century building that drops right down into the water.
I don’t need to feign any wonder and excitement as we step onto the dock, hand our luggage over to the porters, and step into the high-ceilinged lobby, filled with art and antiques.
Rob’s smile is back as he takes in my unfettered joy.
“We could totally do Italian palazzo in our place, if you ever felt like a change of décor,” he jokes, pointing out an ostentatious Renaissance painting above a carved antique settee.
“I don’t think so, baby.” I am relieved at his light tone. “We could pull off full-on black-and-gold art deco with mirrored cabinets, but I think we’d better leave this style to the Italians.”
Upstairs, our vast suite, with its ceiling-height windows overlooking the canal, is just as grand as the rest of the building — and the dark green-marble bathroom is utterly indulgent.
I giggle after the porter leaves. “I wouldn’t want this décor all the time.
” I pull the heavy blue damask curtains wide open, revealing the view of the Grand Canal and the gorgeous buildings dripping down into it.
“But it’s fantastic for a honeymoon suite.
Although . . . isn’t that bed too posh to have dirty sex on?
I’m sure Italian ladies of yore would have had separate bedrooms from their husbands. ”