As well as the barn at Marmalade Farm and the luxury boutique accommodation at Taupo, we also checked out a vineyard in the Hawke’s Bay, a converted woolshed in Wanaka, and a retreat nestled among native bush on the Coromandel Peninsula. They were all incredible venues that any bride would dream of being married at. Nadia tries her hardest to convince me to choose the luxury resort, Mum likes the serenity of the retreat, and Amanda likes the idea of a plentiful supply of alcohol on hand at the vineyard.

But none of them feels right. It might have been different if I were actually getting married, but I’m not, and they just aren’t me. Nadia has more lined up to visit for magazine articles but I am tired, so I say no. Tired of car trips and nights in motels. I want to enjoy them, and I try—the scenery in this country is breathtaking, after all—but my body aches if it is in one position for too long, and I develop locational insomnia, unable to sleep under unfamiliar ceilings. I don’t feel on the verge of death, but I don’t know what the verge of death feels like, and I’m terrified of dying in a bed strangers will sleep in after me.

So I break Nadia’s heart and I choose the one place that I can’t stop thinking of and dreaming of when I am away from it. She comes to the house to get the story for the latest issue, and I break it to her gently.

“I’ve decided to have my wedding day on the beach, next to the ocean,” I tell her.

“The beach.” She grimaces slightly, as if she’s having to reimagine her outfit choice.

“Yes.”

“Fiji?” she asks hopefully.

“What? No.”

“Rarotonga?”

“No.”

“Somewhere else equally as tropical and where they serve cocktails with little umbrellas? Preferably at the end of a short plane ride?”

“No. Right here.” I point off Kate’s deck.

She sighs. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s not big enough, for a start.”

“It’s not a wide stretch of beach, no,” I admit. “But it’s plenty big enough for my family and friends.”

“And what about everyone else?”

“Who else?”

“Well. You’re making this thing public, right? So many readers want to come along and show their support.”

“Whoa.” I hold up my hands. “Just stop right there. This is not open to the public, no. This is a very private day, just for my friends and family. And you and whoever else you need to do the story, but that’s it. I never agreed to anything else.”

“I just assumed it was implied.”

“You know what they say about assuming,” Amanda, who is sunning herself in one of the deck chairs, pipes up. “Means you’re an ass.”

“That’s not quite how the saying goes,” I say quickly as Nadia frowns. “Anyway, that’s irrelevant. Sorry, Nadia. But it’s my decision and this is what I want.”