Page 62 of The Great Italian Holiday Mix-up

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And there’s no way I’m making our would-be wedding day even worse.

‘So, how are you, Pip?’ I ask gently. I don’t want to give anything away – Dan will have kept my secret, which is that I know Pip’s secret – but she must be wracked with disappointment, even with her family there.

She sighs heavily. ‘Fine, all things considered.’

‘Have you got out much, seen the sights?’

‘Mmm, yeah – we saw the Aurora Borealis last night.’

I catch the slip –we, when ostensibly she’s there alone – but I don’t let on.

‘A group of us from the hotel, I mean,’ she says, obviously realising the slip-up. ‘Erm, we did a drive out to Grótta Lighthouse – an excursion.’

I have no doubt she did go to a lighthouse last nightandsee the Aurora Borealis, but it would have been with Ashley and their parents. God, I thought lying to Pippa felt terrible, but her lying to me to save face is worse.Farworse.

Do I tell her?

No, I quickly decide. If we’re opening Pandora’s Box, it needs to be in person.

‘Sounds lovely,’ I say benignly.

‘And I went to Hallgrímskirkja today – I think that’s how you say it. Anyway, it’s the tallest structure in Iceland – a church. Nice views – you ride the lift up.’

The irony of Pippa visiting a church on our would-be wedding day is a bitter pill to swallow, even if we’ve never discussed a church wedding. We’ve never discussedanywedding.

‘So, any plans for tonight?’ I ask thoughtlessly. Shedidhave plans – big plans –huge! – but circumstances intervened.

‘Mmm, probably dinner out. By myself,’ she adds, and inwardly I groan.

We’ll need a backhoe to dig us out from this pile of lies.

‘I should go, Nick,’ she says with a tinge of sadness.

‘Speak soon, Pip.’

‘Okay.’

We end the call without the usual exchange ofI love yous– a tell of its own – and I expel a long, slow breath.

Our trip was booked for six nights, so she’s not even halfway through her stay. Hopefully, with her family there, she’ll find a way to enjoy it. There doesn’t seem to be any indication that she’ll go home early – like Nicholas.

Nicholas – what a wanker. Even if he isn’t a wanker – but really, all evidence points in that direction – he seems wildly unsuited to Delaney.

So, who’d be better suited then?

I look back at my laptop screen, reading over the last couple of pages of the epilogue.

LEXI

When did you know?

FINN

That I was in love with you?

She nods.

FINN