This is love

FOURTEEN

There was a quiet hum breezing across the marshmallow sky this early morning. A calming mixture of gentle orange and sweet pink painted the extraordinarily breathtaking view, sending waves of serenity through me. I clench at my mug, with the shameless print off Mrs Hayes scribbled in cursive writing, and lean onto the balcony edge and enjoying the quiet lul surrounding me. 

It was my wedding day. 

I take a deep breath, a wild stampede hurtling through my stomach with not an ounce of gracefulness. It had been like this since the early hours when I awoke with jitters knowing it was after twelve. 

Four weeks of planning all came down to this day and yet, I couldn't have cared for any of it. If the lilies were the wrong shade of ivory, I didn't care. If the straps of my Jimmy Choo’s broke, I didn't care. If the skies opened and poured with torrential rain soaking us to the skin and ruining the expensive lace gown I was going to be covered in, I didn't care. 

All I wanted to do was say my vows into the eyes of Jason, and sneak my new husband back to our quaint little cottage hidden in the cliff face of Italy’s beautiful little town, Positano. After a short discussion a month ago, we almost immediately decided that our short stay on the Alfari Coast months before, was the place we wanted to say our vows and become united. 

It was shortly before seven, and Flo and Vivian were still asleep in the upstairs guest room of Rachel and Colin's hideaway home. Jason insisted on me taking this cottage while he and all other guests were secluded further up the hill at the rented villa. Rachel didn't protest either, and Colin hadn't been around to give his input. 

A ding from my phone interrupts my peaceful meditation and I smile as Jason's name appears upon the screen. 

"Are you awake yet?" 

I bite my lip and type back. 

"Of course I am. You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep much. I'm getting married today, did you hear?"

With a soft chuckle, I lower myself to the iron seat and ignore the feeling of the metal pressing against the backs of my thighs and would surely leave some type of imprint. I text him back.

"You are? She must be a lucky girl." 

"Hm. I'd say I was the lucky one. She's pretty insane if you ask me. Ticks every box - well, except the fact she has a strange obsession with Tom Holland and Earl Grey tea."

"I mean, Tom Holland is pretty easy to be obsessed by."

Suddenly, a few short seconds after responding to his message and seeing the icon change to read, my phone rings and our cheesy screensaver taken on the night of our engagement with my hand held to flash my ring and Jason’s lips pressed to my cheek pops up. I grin, sliding across the answer phone. 

“The only person you will ever be obsessed by, is your husband. Got it, Ms Hayes?” 

I bite my lip, my toes curl at his husky tone that was dabbled with last night’s pizza and whisky. “Got it.” wetting my lips, I pull my legs to my chest. “How are you feeling? Any last minute nerves? Cold feet?” 

“Not even in the slightest.” He says softly. “Are you?” 

“No.” I whispered. “It felt weird not sleeping beside you last night knowing you were so close, but so far.” 

“Tell me about it.” He chuckled. “I even walked down late last night and sat on the outside step. Just too feel that bit closer to you. I wanted to come in, even debated whether I should climb the trellis outside your window but I’m afraid the rath of Flo coming at me about it being bad luck to see the bride before the wedding would make me fall and break a limb.”