Page 37 of A Winter Wedding Adventure (Adventure Weddings #2)

If Kira had learned anything about weddings in her fledgling career working alongside Ginny and Sophie, it was that there was always chaos.

Perhaps the two weddings she’d worked on so far had been particularly disastrous, one featuring a surprise Lake Garda thunderstorm and the next interrupted by an avalanche.

She’d rarely had such bad luck on her adventure trips.

But in both of those cases, she also couldn’t deny that love had proved resilient in the end. Or lovers were particularly proud and stubborn.

Getting Alessandra and Joe’s nuptials off the ground had taken the entire team of I Do and Great Heart working together.

Willard and Reshma had pulled strings over the phone while Kira had slept off her rocky night and even Tita and Toni back in the office had been glued to their emails, helping with last-minute arrangements.

Andreas, it turned out, was well connected with the municipality of the ski area, since he lived only three hours away and the mountaineering community was a small fraternity.

He’d helped Sophie secure the folk museum as an alternative location for the wedding reception and Ginny and Kira had cobbled together catering from various local restaurants.

The biggest challenge had been the photographer, who’d had to fly out again to her next gig, now the runway was clear.

With Tita muttering over the phone about her constant battle with photographers, I Do had finally prevailed upon Rhys to return for the ceremony and reception.

He hadn’t even left Tyrol after accompanying them to the glacier, so it had made sense, even though Kira wished they’d been able to respect his genuine reservations about photographing wedding guests.

To everyone’s relief, arrangements fell into place – perhaps missing some of the smaller details – for the second of January, only two days late.

Other guests had given up their rooms for the bride and her parents so she didn’t have to travel on the big day.

The rest of them had taken whatever they could find in Mayrhofen and hoped the little road winding through the valley would stay open, which looked likely, since the area hadn’t seen a single flake since New Year’s Eve.

The list of tasks was endless for the day of the wedding, but Kira enjoyed the busyness and the camaraderie, especially now the ambience was ‘make do’ rather than ‘absolute perfection’.

She would never have expected to wake up on the morning of the wedding and join in with a quiet sunrise yoga session.

The two of them didn’t quite fit on Mattia’s mat, which had been salvaged from the chalet by Andreas and the mountain rescue volunteers, along with the rest of his things, but the hotel carpet was soft enough to manage and they only occasionally poked each other with an outstretched hand or foot – and only even more occasionally on purpose, usually after Mattia had patronised her with uplifting yoga-speak that only made her more determined not to connect with her centre.

‘And lift,’ he said smoothly as they transitioned from a warrior pose to a side angle, ‘the corners of your mouth.’

‘Fuck you,’ Kira replied lightly, her balance wavering. She wasn’t great at holding still without a goal.

‘You can take that energy,’ he continued in his infuriating yoga teacher voice, ‘and wrap it up in a lovely, big bow.’

She eyed him, trying not to be impressed by how his lean muscles tensed and relaxed.

‘In a few hours, you can give that present to that fucking bastard Christian.’

Kira collapsed onto the mat, laughter causing her stomach muscles to give in. ‘What kind of karma is that?’

‘I’m pretty sure my baptism protects me from karma – and the curniciello.’ The horn-shaped charm around his neck hung down towards the ground as he held a forward bend position.

She gave him a shove, but he remained infuriatingly stable. ‘It doesn’t protect me .’

‘You’re not Catholic?’ he asked in mock horror.

‘Of course I’m not Catholic!’ She chuckled, but there was a little sting in the banter, realising it didn’t matter if she was Catholic or not, because their relationship was casual.

‘I could get you a curniciello, but I’m not sure you’d appreciate the other meaning: my mother’s secret wish for grandchildren.’

‘Whaaat?’ She tumbled onto her bottom, imagining him one day with a bunch of kids. He’d be a great father, which was the strangest thought she’d ever had about anyone .

‘It’s a fertility charm, as well as warding off the evil eye,’ he explained sheepishly. ‘Luckily, we foiled it.’

‘I think you should probably shut up now,’ Kira said, not quite stifling her chuckle. ‘But thanks for making me laugh about seeing Christian. You know when I brought Joe down in the cable car the day before New Year’s Eve?’

‘I was ordering pizza.’

‘Yeah, I was thinking about what I told him. He had reservations about the marriage. Ginny tells me this is normal, as strange as it sounds. But I told him he could do anything he wanted after the wedding, as long as he actually turned up at the altar and didn’t embarrass her.’

She crossed her legs on the carpet as she stared out the window at the slanted roofs of Mayrhofen, under a layer of marshmallow snow.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Mattia prompted gently.

‘It was bad advice,’ she insisted. ‘Surely it’s better for everyone involved if they don’t get married, when there’s a serious problem, something that might lead to divorce. That’s heartbreak packaged up in bureaucracy.’

‘That does sound bad.’

‘Exactly. I realised I was thankful Christian hadn’t gone through with it. He tried to explain it to me afterwards, but all I remember was something about me being a friend with boobs, so I definitely had a lucky escape.’

‘I told you, he’s a turd!’

‘He is a turd,’ she said softly, smiling at Mattia. ‘I assume that’s more poetic in Italian.’

‘Poetic? No. Emphatic – yes. He’s a stronzo, that’s for certain.’

She nodded slowly. ‘He’s a stronzo, who destroyed my pride at a delicate age.’ Her next words caught on her tongue and she couldn’t bring herself to say them aloud. But maybe he didn’t kill my heart the way I thought he did? ‘He’s not going to ruin Alessandra’s wedding, though. And neither am I.’

‘Did you really think you could?’

‘I thought I could ruin certain aspects of the preparations, yes. But those aren’t the things that matter, even for a bride like Alessandra. I’m starting to understand that.’

He sat next to her, his arms propped on his knees, as a sprinkling of snow tumbled down past the window. ‘This reminds me of the hotel in Salzburg,’ he said softly. ‘But no fridge.’

Turning from the window to regard him, she asked, ‘What about your future? You’ll be back in Salzburg in the summer, and then what?’

But he flashed her a tight smile. ‘I’m sure I’ll…

land on my feet somewhere. Maybe I was holding onto Alessandra and her circle in Naples.

I really was a hopeless teenager, trapped in my own fears and insecurities, but—’ He shrugged.

‘Things change. I have the chance to make more of my music career and I’ll see where it takes me. ’

She nearly regretted asking, when the answer was so clearly, It won’t take me to you .

‘Thanks for teaching me to chop wood and reminding me that sometimes, the solution is as simple as switching off the fridge.’ He stared at his knees for a moment, spots of colour on his cheeks. ‘And, you know, the sex.’

She gave him a shove. ‘ Do not thank me for sex!’

He held up his hands in surrender. ‘It was kind of life-changing. I had to say something.’

Kira’s chest hurt. The pressure on her lungs was similar to being at altitude, but there should have been plenty of air in this room. It was Mattia and his wild ability to bring feelings up to her pores.

She patted his shoulder. ‘Maybe you just needed an older woman,’ she said as lightly as she could, hoping his hearing wouldn’t betray the churning in her stomach.

Hauling herself to her feet and ignoring his doubtful snort in reply, she fetched her water bottle and took a long sip, glancing at her watch. Eight fifteen.

‘I should get ready,’ she said, shaking off the lingering effects of Mattia on her system. ‘The wedding’s in just over six hours. Hopefully, not enough time for anything else to go wrong.’

* * *

‘You look great!’ Ginny said as she squeezed Kira in a hug.

The chirpy wedding planner wore a two-tone dress in baby blue and turquoise with a belt and heels and a diamond stud winking in her piercing.

She was in her element, directing museum staff to rearrange furniture and checking – and double-checking – every last detail.

She looked great. She was the real wedding planner. And yet…

Kira was some kind of wedding planner too – her own kind.

And she did look good. She wore a pair of neat trousers and a patterned, silky blouse that Mattia had helped her pick out – that did not require decorative knots to finish the look.

Ginny must have also bought her outfit in Mayrhofen, since their luggage was ruined.

Kira wasn’t wearing make-up. Mattia had silently dissuaded her with a hand gesture, his fingers at his neck.

Although she’d scowled at him, the memory of the last time he’d seen her with make-up – seen her applying it poorly – and the knowledge that he thought she was fine without had lightened her mood.

It was difficult not to feel optimistic, now the wedding was on track after so many obstacles.

There was only a light sprinkle of snow coming down – just enough for Alessandra’s superstitions.

The reception could take place in this historic farmhouse, under the low, wooden ceilings strung with pine boughs and holly, a roaring fire in the old, whitewashed stove.

It was perhaps more rustic than Alessandra had imagined, but Kira rather liked the charming building, its wooden balconies discoloured with age and many, many marriages in its history.

Ginny counted off on her fingers. ‘I’ve checked on the caterers, Andreas is sorting out transport and Sophie’s at the church performing CPR on the decorations— Oh fuck, that was a poor choice of words!’

‘It’s fine,’ Kira assured her.

Ginny clutched her arm. ‘And I’m under strict instructions not to let you lift anything with those hands!’

Although the scrapes had scabbed over, Kira’s fingertips were still tender. ‘I know my limits,’ Kira insisted drily. ‘You can tell Andreas to back off.’

Ginny’s eyes widened. ‘I could never ! Anyway, I do have a job I need you to do.’

Of course she did, which was how Kira found herself spending the morning asking Carla and Joe and anyone else she could find what music to put into the wedding playlist, now they had to do without both the string quartet and the DJ.

Andreas had found a trumpet player and a clarinettist among the mountain rescue volunteers and, from Mattia’s reports, the music for the ceremony was all arranged, but it was a big job ensuring hours of music for the reception – and making sure the sound system at the museum worked when required.

At lunchtime, Andreas appeared with an enormous tray of bread and cheeses, pickles, grilled vegetables and cured meat.

Ginny shoved bites into her mouth and chewed while she worked ceaselessly on her tablet, stylus in hand. ‘Where is Rhys?’ she asked, her mouth full.

‘Right here,’ Kira’s old friend mumbled from the opposite side of the room, where he was topping a piece of bread with grilled courgette.

‘Oh, Christ, I didn’t see you there!’ Ginny exclaimed, her hand on her chest. ‘You’re always so quiet !’ Kira saw her lips moving and suspected she was adding under her breath, For someone so tall .

His eyes lingered on Ginny, his expression grim, while Kira made her way over to him. With a nudge to his shoulder, she said, ‘It’s good of you to step in.’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve come to terms with this wedding stuff too, now? I’m only here today because of everything that’s gone wrong.’

‘The photos will be fine,’ she said, cutting through to what she knew must be his concern. ‘They understand you don’t know anyone. The bride is the one in the white dress. The groom is the one with a fancy steel watch with a blue face. It will all be clear at the ceremony.’

His expression suggested he didn’t share her confidence. ‘I’ll take the photos, but then I’m just sending them over. I don’t want any commentary. And I’m never doing this again. Someone will have to explain that to the tenacious woman in the office at I Do.’

‘Fair enough,’ Kira replied, thinking of Tita, the whirlwind of an older woman who kept the administration running at I Do.

‘You’re an amazing photographer.’ If his subject had been mountain peaks or caves, birds of prey or chubby little marmots, Rhys wouldn’t have needed the encouragement, but Kira knew taking photos of people was far out of his comfort zone.

Ginny probably thought he was simply a miserable person.

He was rather miserable, but he had his reasons.

Ginny approached and Rhys backed away rather conspicuously. Shooting him a puzzled look, Kira didn’t have time to wonder why as Ginny grabbed her attention. ‘It’s just about time to head over to the chapel.’

Kira realised too late that Ginny had cornered her.

‘Are you doing okay? I heard this story about your ex. It’s a shitty coincidence.’

‘I’m not going to ruin the wedding with my own drama, don’t worry.’

‘That’s not what I’m worried about,’ she said gently. ‘I’d probably be throwing up in the corner if I had to see an ex while trying to run a wedding.’

‘I have a strong stomach,’ Kira replied curtly.

‘I bet you do,’ Ginny replied with something like admiration in her tone – that Kira didn’t want to accept at first. ‘But we’re all here to help if you need it.’

Kira sighed. ‘To be honest, I just want to get it over with.’

Especially now she understood the greater hurt was still to come, when she woke up in her own bed at home with the knowledge that she was not going to see Mattia ever again.