Page 12 of A Winter Wedding Adventure (Adventure Weddings #2)

The Kitzingalm Hütte was not the kind of mountain cabin Kira usually found herself in.

She glanced doubtfully around the twin room she would share with Ginny for the duration of the wedding celebrations, all her insecurities roaring back to life.

Usually, when she stayed in Berghütten , as they were known in the German-speaking parts of the Alps, it was in a dorm room with ten strangers, sleeping on bunks, with the faint smell of stale socks in the air.

This cosy room with wood accents, soft wall sconces and the subtle scent of fresh air and dried lavender was making her nervous about breaking things or getting the floor dirty.

It even had an ensuite, rather than septic communal toilets and a chronic shortage of water.

The beds were both immaculately made, with crisp sheets, a fluffy duvet and a throw blanket, but the far bed had a small pile of jewellery on the bedside table and a fluffy toy on the pillows, so Kira guessed that was Ginny’s, although why a grown woman brought her plush dog to work, she didn’t know.

Placing her tattered, dusty rucksack down next to the nearer bed, she lamented that a lick of make-up and a soft blouse she couldn’t tie herself weren’t enough to make her belong.

A prickle rushed to her hairline at the thought of tying her blouse, and the past twenty-four hours washed over her.

If this place – full of luxury and forever happiness – seemed foreign to her, then Mattia was even more so.

But he’d felt real – as real as grippy limestone under her fingertips and nothing but air at her back.

The buzz of adrenaline when he looked at her was certainly similar.

Gargh, she needed to get her head out of her own butt, try to forget her reservations about this stupid occasion – and the disturbing intimacy of the past day – and do her job.

If there had been a climbing gym nearby, she would have done a few quick 7c problems just to clear her mind.

Her main comfort was knowing she was taking the groom and his friends up the mountain in two days.

Hurtling down a slope on skis was almost as good as hanging off a sheer cliff.

The door of the room burst open and Ginny appeared, looking more frazzled than Kira had ever seen her.

‘Boy, am I glad to see you!’ Giving Kira no time to brace herself, Ginny wrapped her in a tight, clinging hug.

‘What’s up?’

‘Oh, just every wedding party pitfall all at once – with added cabin fever! We have to get ready for dinner.’ She marched into the ensuite and rummaged in an enormous toiletry bag.

‘I am ready,’ Kira said, holding out her hands to show off her blouse.

Ginny’s only reaction was a wide-eyed look, full of reservations. Kira grumbled under her breath and her shoulders slumped.

‘This is still only my second wedding,’ she pointed out as Ginny patted her forehead with a sponge, leaving behind some residue that Kira couldn’t name. Foundation? Concealer? Face dust? ‘Dare I ask what the usual pitfalls are?’

‘Well,’ she began with an eager smile, ‘we have the heartbroken bridesmaid, the big group of inconsiderate lads who should have organised their own bachelor party, a bride with very specific ideas and – my least favourite – a dickhead groom.’

‘How can there be so many dickheads getting married?’

Ginny shrugged. ‘A lot of dickheads in the world, I suppose.’

Kira wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan, although with Ginny, the answer was usually laughing.

‘But I’ve been doing this job for long enough to have learned that personal taste is an amazingly diverse thing,’ she nattered, tugging down the skin under her eye until her reflection looked like something out of a horror film and applying dark-brown eyeliner that complemented her auburn hair.

Mattia must wear pure-black eyeliner. And Kira was still not supposed to be thinking about him.

‘And maybe not everyone is as picky as we are,’ Ginny added after she’d finished one eye, giving Kira a wink.

‘Or maybe we aren’t to most people’s tastes.’

Ginny turned to her in indignation. ‘I can’t believe you just said— Actually, I can. But you make yourself that way on purpose, whereas I…’

Kira stilled, her thoughts stalling on Ginny’s suggestion.

All this introspection was making her stomach churn.

One odd evening with a soft-eyed opera singer should not make her outlook shift and Ginny didn’t know what she was talking about.

No one knew the mistake she’d made all those years ago and she had to keep it that way.

‘But don’t tell me you haven’t had a crush on your share of dickheads,’ Ginny continued with a grin.

‘A crush? How old are you?’ Kira had certainly slept with a dickhead or two, but she hadn’t had crushes since she was a teenager. She was all or nothing and since ‘all’ would never work, she was left with ‘nothing’.

‘But the biggest problem is the bride, and not in the usual way.’

Kira pricked up her ears. ‘What’s she like? Mattia made her sound like a saint.’

Ginny dropped her lipstick and the case made a clack against the sink. ‘Oh, my God.’

‘What?’

‘I just realised you spent a whole day with the opera singer. Alessandra talks about him like he doesn’t really function in normal life. I hope he wasn’t an arse – or a diva.’

‘That’s a stereotype,’ Kira grumbled. ‘It was fine. He’s normal.’ It wasn’t quite true, but she was unreasonably annoyed with the bride for underestimating him. She held her breath, waiting to see if Ginny would pick up on her carefully blank tone.

But Kira was saved by the wedding drama. ‘You’ll be able to help me.’

Beckoning for Kira to sit on her bed while Ginny took up the opposite position on her own, she gave a wriggle like a dog settling into its blanket and leaned conspiratorially close.

‘Get this: the bridesmaid is the opera singer’s ex!’

Kira hesitated, tempted to pretend she didn’t know but struggling to produce an appropriately false reaction. Luckily, Ginny ploughed on.

‘Alessandra set up Carla and Mattia and she’s heartbroken that they split. You know how brides think everyone else should be happy too?’

‘No.’

Ginny laughed as though she’d made a joke. ‘Well, Alessandra said she also feels guilty about moving permanently to London after the wedding and she wishes her friends still had each other. I suppose it’s a cliché: weddings are the best place for new love to bloom.’

That statement made Kira want to barf.

‘Anyway, she asked me today – in this lovely, gracious way she has where you don’t feel imposed on even though she’s totally imposing on me – if there was a way we could get them together – like make them spend time together, alone if possible.’

Kira’s skin was suddenly cold. Stupid fine blouse. She should have kept her thermal shirt on.

‘Alessandra says they’re sure to get back together because it was a misunderstanding, the reason they broke up, and they’re both such lovely people who can’t hold a grudge.’

Nostrils flaring, Kira bit the insides of her cheeks so she wouldn’t say anything.

‘She says it’s her dearest wish that her friends recapture the love they had,’ Ginny said with a mock swoon.

Images of Mattia’s face as he’d told her about Carla flashed in Kira’s memory.

It was my fault . His tone had been pained – with misplaced guilt, she’d assumed.

But he must have felt something strong for Carla at one stage, enough that he’d mentioned finding a solution to the problem with therapy.

What he’d described also was a kind of misunderstanding: Carla had thought he wanted to break up.

Lashing out because of wounded pride wasn’t something Kira could blame the woman for.

‘I thought you were a wedding planner and not a matchmaker,’ she said, managing an even tone with some effort.

‘I did wonder whether to point that out, especially since she told me all of this while I was busy tying up the wrapping on the wedding favours.’

‘What the hell is a wedding favour?’

Ginny blinked at her. ‘That’s a conversation for another time. The point is, the bride is always right.’

Kira couldn’t resist. ‘I think I’m beginning to get this: the bride is always right and the groom is often a dickhead.’

‘Ha ha, Kira. But the point is, all we need to do is to try to seat them together, get them into a snowball fight – that sort of thing. It shouldn’t be too much extra work and it’s for a good cause, but I need your help, because I have a thousand other things on my mind.’

‘We can’t seat them together, not for dinner,’ she insisted, earning a surprised glance from Ginny.

‘Why not?’

She wasn’t sure she could explain his discomfort to Ginny without revealing confidences that suddenly felt too intimate.

‘There’s no seating plan tonight anyway,’ Ginny continued. ‘And I really hope we don’t have to make any more changes for the reception. I’ve spent hours on it!’

‘On a seating plan?’

‘Just wait until you have to help me with the bower and the place settings!’ Ginny seemed genuinely excited, but Kira’s stomach was churning.

Her awkward wedding memories were from a long time ago and there hadn’t been a bower or any fuss with place settings, but she still had a bad taste in her mouth.

First, she had to get through dinner with the fancy guests at the fancy cabin – and face the fancy opera boy who shouldn’t feel like a friend already.

Adjusting the scarf part of her blouse as she followed Ginny down the hall towards the dining room, she accidentally undid the knot Mattia had tied. Swallowing a curse, she quickly tied a water knot and tried to forget about the stupid thing.

As she stepped into the dining room, she suddenly understood why Ginny had been so concerned about Kira’s appearance.

While the traditional construction of rough-hewn wood was hinted at here and there, the white walls with grey accents, natural stone fixtures and jacquard tablecloths turned the room into a fine restaurant – and the guests were even finer.

Kira picked out Alessandra straight away.

She was a vivacious woman with black hair in careless curls that had probably taken an hour to style, standing by the window talking to man with his back turned.

Her make-up was flawless; her blouse with its edgy collar had not a wrinkle, which Kira considered to be some kind of dark magic.

Instead of the felt cabin slippers that Kira had shoved her stocking feet into, Alessandra wore some shiny black designer things with a low heel.

The men weren’t wearing ties, but they were otherwise dressed for a business meeting – at least that’s what it looked like to Kira – in navy or camel jackets and leather loafers, their hair subtly styled.

Suddenly feeling out of touch with normal people, Kira smoothed her black hiking trousers that she’d hoped wouldn’t be noticeable as such.

The wedding party weren’t normal people, she reminded herself.

They were top earners, probably descended from other top earners, but the knowledge didn’t stop the tide of self-consciousness up her throat.

‘Oh hi, Kira!’

Uh oh, the bride had caught sight of her. Alessandra beckoned her over and then wrapped her arms around her in a hug that was far too familiar, punctuating the action with a kiss on each cheek. Kira wouldn’t have been surprised to find matching lip marks on her face.

‘Thank you so much for taking care of Mattia. He has such a delicate artistic spirit and I was so worried about him getting here safe.’

Kira wouldn’t argue about the ‘delicate artistic spirit’, but Alessandra seemed a little too caught up in her honorary big sister role. Mattia was all grown up.

She was gathering her thoughts in search of something appropriate to say – and drawing a blank – when she finally glanced at Alessandra’s companion. She’d assumed it was Joe, the groom, but when she saw the face above the navy jacket, she stopped breathing altogether.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Seeing her old friend Aarav Grewal again came pretty close. He’d been there that day twelve years ago – also a groomsman – giving her a pitying look as she’d slowly realised the enormity of the mistake she’d made. He knew .

No. Now was not the time to see Rav again.

The memories she’d been keeping at bay pulled loose, freezing in her chest and rushing up her throat.

It was a long time ago; she’d been young and stupid.

But the feelings were still with her, damn it: mortification mainly, as she came face to face with the past she’d successfully avoided for all her years at Great Heart.

Rav glanced at her. Kira held her breath, waiting for her final defences to fall and reveal her to be the misfit who wasn’t worth the effort, but Rav said nothing, eventually wandering away to speak to the groom who was standing by the fire with a tumbler of something.

Kira blinked, unsure whether to be relieved or offended. Rav hadn’t recognised her.

She could barely think, let alone manage any small talk and it was a relief when they sat down to dinner – until she noticed that, in her distraction, she hadn’t been able to stop Ginny from ushering Mattia to the end of the table to sit with a woman who had to be the bridesmaid – Carla.