Once they’d left, I carried our tasting glasses out into the kitchen. I hadn’t swallowed any of the wines we’d blinded, but I could still feel them heavy on my palate, the tannins sucking all the moisture out of my mouth.
I chugged an enormous glass of water and then made myself an even more enormous cup of coffee, but it didn’t shift any of the fog clouding my brain. I dropped a glass while washing it, and it shattered all over the floor.
I sighed as I went to get the dustpan and brush. This fucking glasswasher was going to be the end of me.
When I was finished, I took a second, equally gigantic cup of coffee upstairs. My bed looked very inviting, but if I allowed myself even fifteen minutes to lie down, there was a chance I might not be able to get up again – or, worse, that I’d just lie there the way I had last night, repeatedly reliving the horrifying moment I hadn’t been able to get it up for Fiona.
She understands,I told myself, glaring at my reflection in the mirror as I combed product through my too-short hair. She’d been married for years. There must have been times when Matt couldn’t perform.
Although maybe he’d been some kind of sexual machine. After all, he’d managed to keep two women satisfied enough to be clueless about each other for more than a decade.
And there was no skill shortage on Fiona’s end. The woman was a fucking master at fellatio. I’d never, ever say it to her, but I’d wondered, after the first time she’d nearly blown the top off my skull, whether part of the reason Matt had strung her along for so long was because he couldn’t bear to give up head that good.
I hadn’t been craving anything carnal yesterday, though. All I’d wanted was to hold her close and snuggle into her. Like achild.
I splashed water onto my face. ‘Shut up, Sato,’ I muttered.
I flicked through the suits in my wardrobe harder than I needed to, passing over my dove grey work suits and a few brightly coloured ones to reach for the charcoal one, pairing it with a dark green tie and glasses. In the mirror, with my newly black hair and no pins on my lapel, I looked like a banker.
I wrestled Yquem into her carrier, brushed cat hair off me – rookie mistake, not corralling her before putting my suit on – and poured my third cup of coffee into the largest keep cup I owned. Given her entire family would be present, I doubted Fiona would want to sneak away with me today, but if she did, I couldn’t let my tiredness get the better of me.
When I arrived at the vineyard, I dropped Yquem off with Okasan and then went up to the cellar door. ‘Okaeri,’ Isamu started to say, and then stopped.
‘What?’ I simply didn’t have it in me to negotiate one of his lectures today.
He gestured to my hair.
‘You noticed.’
‘I might not have your finely honed aesthetic skills, but I know the difference between blond and black.’ He paused. ‘It makes you look…’
‘What? Older?’
It took him a moment before he answered. ‘Like Otosan.’
Just the thought of opening up that can of worms made me feel even more exhausted. ‘How’s set up going?’
‘Everything’s on track.’ Of course it was. ‘The bride and bridesmaid arrived last night. I took them both a glass of sparkling about half an hour ago.’
‘Which one?’
‘The 2022 blanc de blancs, like you told me. Okasan has prepared the adjoining room for the rest of the bridal party when they get here – that’s the flower girls and the mother of the groom, correct?’
‘Correct.’ As Fiona was the best man, her mother was on Rosie-and-Georgia duty.
‘The groom’s party will get ready in the library.’ Isamu nodded in the direction of the lounge next to the bar. ‘I thought it’d be best if you looked after them, and I’ll look after the bridal party.’
‘That sounds sensible.’ I resisted the urge to take my glasses off and rub at my scratchy eyes.
‘Otherwise, we’re good to go. The cellar door is ready for the reception. The tech is sorted for the brother to Zoom in. We just need to set up for the ceremony – I’ll pull a couple of the waitstaff to help with that – and I thought you’d want to prep the bar.’
It was unusually sensitive of him to allow me that level of control; and yet, if he had prepped the bar himself, I might not have complainedtoomuch.
‘You thought correctly.’ I took down a bottle of Fernet-Branca. ‘Bartender’s handshake?’
Isamu raised his eyebrows.
‘It’s going to be a big day,’ I said.
