Read Amalfi Coast (That Wedding Girl Book 2) for Free Online Page B

screw this up. I can’t.” I’d rather ask the annoying questions now, rather than have it all blow up in my face on the day. I’m being pedantic, but I have to be.
    The wedding is still another three days away but I’m treating it like it’s happening in two. Some of the guests will be arriving today which means I need to start finalising details, pronto. Gabe and I are sitting on my bed, going through some new developments that have occurred.
    The four tier vanilla and lemon iced cake has been ordered but at Amelia’s insistence, it has been commission by a tiny bakery in Naples. Not only is it an hour and a half drive, they won’t do delivery so I’ve had to hire a third party delivery service. After interviewing the top courier services, I finally hired one, but there’s always that nagging voice at the back of my head that something might go wrong.
    Gabe gives me a reassuring glance. “Do you think Amelia speaks any Italian herself? She could have hired anyone she wanted, a local wedding planner even but she wanted you to plan her special day. You’ve got your run sheets, your back up of the back-ups. Even your unorthodox methods manage to get you through the line, so just do what you always do.”
    “Do you think they will work here?” Back home, I’m in my comfort zone. Here, I can barely have a conversation with anybody without having to say  si  and  grazie a dozen times. Either I seem really polite, or a smiling psychopath.
    “Sweetie, I think your bossiness knows no boundaries,” he teases.
    “Neither does your sassiness. But you did make a mistake,” I tap the clipboard with my finger, feigning annoyance.
    “What? Where…” He looks at his laptop quickly.
    “You said she hired me. Actually, she hired us .” I smirk at him.
    Even though this has been more of a holiday for him, he’s still been helping me out behind the scenes. Not only did he confirm the whole shenanigan with Amelia, he’s been so good with helping with any communication issues we’ve encountered. From speaking to the florists, delivery people, and decorators, Gabe ensured that an understanding was agreed to. He saved me from tearing my hair out on several occasions, especially the time when I couldn’t get the decorators to understand that I wanted long thin ribbons, not sashes put on the chairs.    
    He scoffs. “Geez, you scared me for a moment! Nuh-uh. Other than make a few phone calls, I’ve been working on my tan and having way too many lemon sorbets. What about you? Besides locking yourself in here like a caged animal, are you having a holiday?” 
    “We’re here to work.”
    “It’s a working holiday.”
    “There’s no such thing. You either work or you are on holiday,” I insist.
    He sighs loudly. “Well in that case are you enjoying yourself, are you able to relax and unwind?”
    Kind of. To be honest I’ve been busy with getting up to scratch that I haven’t really thought of relaxing. Besides, when I’m working on a wedding, I can’t relax until it is completed perfectly. Even if it is in one of the most gorgeous hotels in the world, in one of the most beautiful countries in the world.
    Work aside, I have several other reasons for locking myself in. My fear of heights has gotten the better of me. Instead of enjoying my beautiful surroundings, taking a day trip up to Positano and Vico Equense and exploring sights like the Gardens of Villa Cimbrone and Mount Vesuvius, I’ve been staying near the hotel and exploring the local shops. The rest of the time, I’m at the downstairs café on my laptop checking emails, sending emails, replying to emails. 
     “Yes, I am,” I lie. Between my own mounting pressure to perform the perfect day, my increasing nerves at the fact that I’m sitting on this steep mountaintop, Tristan being setup with a pretty blonde yoga teacher and going bar-hopping with other women, and a hot Italian artist wanting to draw me, I have a lot to juggle in my mind.