Except I’m starting to think it wasn’t just a kiss after all. In fact, seeing it all laid out there like that in her book, in black-and-white—all of my interactions with this woman, I mean, in more or less graphic detail—I’m starting to realize that it might be… it could ONLY be.
But that’s IMPOSSIBLE. I’m overtired, that’s all. It’s nearly three in the morning, for Christ’s sake.
And yet there’s no denying that sometimes when I look at her, I think—
No. It’s the tattoo. That damned tattoo and those stupid shoes. They’re DESIGNED to make a man think things like that.
Except that… well, that drive to Rome today, and that wait in the consulate’s office… that drive and that wait could have been so tedious, but I actually had more fun than I’ve had in a really, really—
I’ve got to snap out of it. This CAN’T be happening. Not now. I’VE GOT A BOOK TO WRITE. I’ve got an apartment to find. I’ve got a sister to support.
My God. I think… I really do think…
So. It wasn’t just a kiss.
But she thinks—because of my big mouth, she’s convinced—
Only how can I show her that with her, it’s different? I can’t just tell her, she’ll never believe me, she’s obviously convinced I’m a “modelizer.”
Holy crap. Grazi.
___________________________________________
To: Graziella Fratiani <[email protected]>
Fr: Cal Langdon <[email protected]>
Re: You
Grazi, I’ve left two messages on your cell. I realize it’s late—or early, as the case may be. Still, I wanted to let you know—about your coming out to the villa this week: I really don’t think it would be a very good idea after all. I know we’d talked about it and I said I thought it would be fine, but actually, I think it might be really awkward at this point. Mark and Holly really want to make it more of a family thing. I know you understand. Thanks so much, and I’ll call next time I’m in town, I swear.
Cal
PDA of Cal Langdon
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have missed all the signs? They were all there… I mean, I even fed those stupid cats. How could I for one second not have wondered what was happening to me?
I just kept blaming the prosecco.
I ought to be shot.
___________________________________________
To: Listserv <[email protected]>
Fr: Peter Schumacher <[email protected]>
Re: JANE HARRIS
GOOD MORNING! It is the day of the marriage of the friends of JANE HARRIS! YES!!! Come one, come all, to see the marriage of the friends of JANE HARRIS! I will be riding my motorino to get the marriage brotchen, and many other surprises! My grandmother and I have been working on many plans for the wedding couple!
Come to the Commune di Castelfidardo to see the marriage of the Americans today! It will be a marriage never to forget!
From the #1 Fan of Wundercat!
Wundercat lives—4eva!
Peter
___________________________________________
Dear Holli and Marc,
For your marriage we wish you unlimited thirst for a double good life that you both grow and thrive and your luck may increase and not burst!
Love,
Inge and Peter Schumacher
___________________________________________
Travel Diary of Jane Harris
Travel Diary of
Jane Harris
Oh my God, Peter and his grandmother have OUTDONE themselves. They are the sweetest people EVER. We woke up this morning to the smell of fresh coffee, and we went downstairs to find the dining table practically sinking under the weight of all the pastries, fresh fruit, breakfast meats, and fluffy scrambled eggs piled onto it.
Plus someone (Peter swears it wasn’t him) decorated the front gate with wildflowers from the horse pasture and two pairs of blue socks (still not sure about the significance of this). Apparently, wearing blue socks on your wedding day is important for good luck in this community. However, since Holly’s wedding dress is above the knee, I’m afraid this won’t do at all.
Speaking of whom, the bride is still glowing. You can’t even tell she spent all day yesterday with her head in a toilet. She just looks pretty and happy and… well, like a bride!
Even Mark is glowing… I mean, if you can say that about a man. There is a bounce in his step that I haven’t ever seen before, and he can’t seem to stop smiling. He was too nervous to eat—it was so sweet! He keeps looking at his watch and going, “Shouldn’t we start getting ready? We don’t want to be late. The mayor has that football game to coach.”
Cal’s the only one who wasn’t downstairs on the stroke of seven, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He finally showed up a little before eight—from OUTSIDE. Apparently, he’d taken the car and gone somewhere.
But when Mark asked him where he’d been, he went, “To get the paper,” and slapped a Herald Tribune down on the table.
Yeah. Nice job, Cal. Way to help out your friend on his wedding day. Get him the paper.
Who cares about him, anyway? Um, not me.
Now Holly and Mark are getting ready. I am on call in case Holly has a hair emergency, but I can already tell that she won’t. Her hair is doing exactly what she wants it to. It’s behaving perfectly, exactly the way hair SHOULD be on a girl’s wedding day.
I am in charge of the paperwork (already in my bag), camera (ready), and lucky socks (ditto). Peter is in charge of the rings. Cal is in charge of driving. He appears to be taking this with the same kind of stoicism you might expect from a man preparing to step in front of a firing squad. How flattering to Holly that her husband-to- be’s best friend apparently equates his marrying her to being shot.
Whatever. I’m not going to let that freak spoil the day. This is what we came here for, and everything is going so well: There isn’t a cloud in the sky; Holly looks prettier than I’ve ever seen her; Mark is being the perfect nervous bridegroom; and someone else even made breakfast.
I bet there are a lot of brides who’d gladly sacrifice having their families attend their wedding in exchange for just ONE of the above.
Ooooh, we’re leaving—
