The next few weeks fell into a rhythm—work during the day, wedding planning in the evenings and on weekends.
Matteo sat in his office on a Tuesday afternoon, reviewing contracts, when Bianca knocked and entered with her usual efficiency.
"Sorry to interrupt," she said, setting a folder on his desk. "The shipping manifests you requested. Also, Elder called from Felix's office. Something about the venue walkthrough at four?"
Matteo checked his watch. Three-fifteen. "Right. Thank you, Bianca."
She didn't leave. Instead, she gave him a look—the one that meant she was about to say something he might not want to hear.
"What?" he asked.
"You've been here since six this morning. You missed lunch. And you have wedding planning this afternoon, dinner with your mother tomorrow, and the florist consultation on Thursday." She crossed her arms. "Matteo, you're getting married in six weeks."
"I'm aware."
