‘They’re off the scale. It doesn’t compute. They’re keepers.’
Matthew wound his arm around Sarah’s shoulder and pressed a kiss against her forehead. ‘You’re gorgeous.’
Sarah couldn’t help but nuzzle in beside him, despite the heat and lack of air-conditioning inside the church. ‘Can you promise me something?’
‘Sure.’
‘When Margherita arrives, don’t look at her. Look at Riccardo.’
‘Why?’
‘Years ago I watched this very sweet rom-com,27 Dresses. The main character talks about how that’s her favourite moment of a wedding ceremony. Capturing the look on the groom’s face when he first sets eyes upon his bride. Since that movie I can’t livethatmoment any other way. Wedding after wedding. Clients. Friends. Family. It never gets old. Trust me.’
‘Ok. I’ll give it a go.’ Matthew squeezed her shoulder even tighter. In the faintest whisper, he asked, ‘Do you ever wonder what it might’ve been like if we were actually there together for our ceremony?’
Sarah giggled. ‘What I want to know is if you would’ve kissed me?’
‘Good question.’ His head dropped to the side as he pondered it. ‘I guess I would’ve. Yes.’ He looked down at her tucked in beside him. Her deep brown eyes glistened in the mid-afternoon sun that radiated through the stained-glass windows. ‘How could anyone resist kissing you?’
Suddenly, the small organ behind the altar kicked into gear, and the melodic sound of the bridal march cut through the heady summer air.
The congregation stood and turned in the direction of the doorway. Margherita, looking spectacular in her mother’s newly fashioned wedding dress, appeared. Sarah held on tight to Matthew and they both turned to face Riccardo.
‘The moment he sees her . . . magic. Love, surprise, wonder and awe,’ Sarah breathed on a hushed exhale.
Shaking his head in disbelief that the woman walking towards him wanted to spend eternity by his side, Riccardo shed a tear and clasped his hands over his heart.
‘That’s actually really special,’ Matthew replied, reaching behind him to find one of Sarah’s hands.
The warmth and strength of his grasp distracted Sarah from the ceremony just long enough for her to wonder what it might’ve been like to walk down the aisle towards Matthew.
As if reading her mind, Matthew dropped his mouth tantalisingly close to her ear. The heat of his lips and breath against her skin caused her to go limp by his side. ‘I’ve thought about it too.’
A crowd of locals had gathered in Fiorellino’s main piazza to celebrate the newly married couple. Riccardo and Margherita stopped to pose for photos, and the chatter and merriment bounced off the buildings and danced on the breeze across the valley.
Padre Ugo returned to the church to ring the bell thirteen times, signalling the end of the service, and sent the couple out into the world with luck on their side.
The first toll of the bells was met with raucous applause and cheering, and at the top of their lungs, the crowd counted each ring. ‘Uno . . . Due . . . Tre . . .’On the count of thirteen, they hoisted Riccardo and Margherita on their shoulders so they could kiss.
Sarah and Matthew watched on in glee, enjoying every moment of the scene play out.
Despite the stifling heat, everyone was happy milling about.
Almost everyone.
Just before turning to lead the procession down and out of the main square, Riccardo stopped. He pivoted on one foot and peered over his shoulder, casting his gaze at themunicipio’s central second-floor window. There stood Saverio.
Riccardo shook his head in dismay before Margherita joined him, pulling him back towards the crowd.
Spread across the long wooden table was a feast no one could have ever predicted came from the humble little kitchen of Convento delle Viole.
Playing to the season, Sarah wanted to style a dinner that was both simple and rustic, but also timeless and elegant. With small numbers, she was able to focus on special, minute details that would have been lost in a sea of hundreds of guests.
The table was dressed with garlands of olive twigs, the green and silver foliage accentuating the polished silverware. White pillar candles of varying heights were interspersed between the greenery and the decorative folds and pleats of dove grey linen. The cloth napkins were trimmed with lace that matched the hemline of Margherita’s dress, and the dinnerware was a mish-mash of white and silver.
Given the intimate nature of the dinner, Sarah felt it was perfectly acceptable to serve the food directly at the table rather than at a buffet. Using reclaimed planks of wood and vintage books, Sarah created raised platforms on the table where the platters of food could be reached by everyone. Atop sat a selection ofantipasti,crostiniand melon wrapped withprosciutto. It was then followed by garlicky roast potatoes, pan searedbranzino, oven-bakedpolpetteand a selection of wild greens and fresh salads.
Margherita and Riccardo had requested not to have a cake. Instead, Sarah prepared a slab oftiramisùand Grammy’s ‘Only Pav’ to share with coffee.
