“The breakfast this morning was amazing. This wine tour has been out of this world, with a private bus and our own guide. That lunch was spectacular, too.”

It had been, exceeding even Jordan’s expectations. They’d lunched in the third vineyard, overlooking the vines, and the food had been Mediterranean and glorious. Just like the wine. Jordan had sat as far away from Abby as possible, and got to know her university friends a little more. She’d almost relaxed, but there had still been a couple of moments when she’d looked up and caught Abby’s gaze. Both times, her blood had stilled, and the volume turned down.

She wasn’t surprised. They’d opened something here, hadn’t they? Much as it pained Jordan to admit, whatever it was, it was still going. Still rolling down the hill, and she had no idea how to stop its momentum. Not with a week to go before the wedding. A week of working with Abby and Marcus every day.

Still, she was trying not to think about that, lest she give herself a stress ulcer. She’d got one when her parents divorced. It wasn’t something she wanted to repeat.

“You should do this professionally, you’re that good,” Delta added, giving Jordan a wink. She always had to get a dig in.

Still, Delta was the least of Jordan’s worries today. Plus, there was always one whose nose Jordan pushed out of joint. If she wasn’t careful, it was going to be the whole group.

The radio DJ said something in French, then put the next track on.

Jordan stilled. Drops Of Jupiter. The song she’d told Abby she loved. Hopefully she wouldn’t remember. With luck…

“Jordan!” Abby’s voice was high-pitched.

Too late.

“This song reminds Jordan of her first love. She told me the other day, didn’t you Jordan? She was in love once. Just like me and Marcus!” Her tone was sing-song.

Jordan closed her eyes, trying to block this out. It wasn’t working.

Abby was trying to sing along even though she didn’t know the words. She was just about to launch into the chorus, when the bus pulled up at the final vineyard.

Jordan leaned over and snapped off the radio, giving Abby a stern look. She was pretty sure it sailed right over her head.

They all clambered off the bus, spirits high. Ahead of her, Taran was leaning on the bus, a big beam on her face, phone glued to her ear. On the phone to Ryan again, no doubt. Nikita, Frankie, Delta, and Erin were reminiscing with Abby about a time at university when she drank too much red wine and spilt a glass all over someone else.

“Red wine?” Arielle asked, screwing up her face. “I hope they weren’t wearing a white shirt.”

Nikita nodded her head. “They were.”