Page 43 of A Winter Wedding Adventure (Adventure Weddings #2)

‘Matty! Carissimo!’

Alessandra threw her arms around him as though they hadn’t seen each other in years. He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

‘I’m happy to see you too. How’s married life? How was the honeymoon?’

Her smile was soft and wistful and made Mattia reflect on the line she’d crossed without him.

‘I can’t quite believe it’s all over,’ she said with a frown.

‘I spent months planning everything and I need a new project.’ She tucked her arm through his and he was afraid for a moment that he would be her new project.

But he’d learned to be firm about that. He was his own project now – which was why he was here.

‘But it’s wonderful to have you in London with me!’

‘I’m only staying a couple of weeks. If things don’t work out?—’

‘They will,’ she said with a firm nod. ‘You have to believe they will.’

He gave her a smile. ‘You’re right. I have to believe it. Thanks for offering me your guest room.’

‘It’s yours for as long as you need it and you can get to know Joe properly.’

Arriving at Alessandra’s lovely row house in Chiswick, the hum of the boiler and the huge ticking clock in the hall made his eye twitch, but he just took a deep breath and asked her to take the batteries out of the clock before he got too worked up.

The sound of the boiler faded as he followed her upstairs to his room, so he would cope.

He could chop wood and help out in a snow emergency and hold a strong woman while she cried.

He would manage his sound sensitivities.

Especially now he’d made the decision to move away from Naples.

Alessandra had cooked for an army – all her nonna’s recipes – so after he’d stuffed himself, he commented, ‘You know, that dinner is the best advertisement for London I can think of.’

Joe gave her a quick kiss. ‘She certainly brightens up London for me,’ he said before disappearing to stack the dishwasher, with only a faint grumble about the kitchen resembling a bomb site.

Allowing Alessandra to settle him on the couch, he waited for her pep talk: the auditions would be fine. He had to get at least one of the jobs because she wanted her friend to live nearby. He’d get used to the strange rules and dreary weather and maybe one day, he’d even like battered fish.

But she only regarded him curiously, for long enough to make him uneasy. ‘I doubt my cooking is the best thing about the prospect of moving to London.’

A leap of stubborn excitement rose inside him, but he quashed it quickly.

Yes, he was in England, only three hours away from this town called Weymouth that he’d never heard of until he’d looked up Great Heart Adventures, but as often as he imagined travelling down there, catching a glimpse of her, it didn’t change the fact that she had left without a word.

There was only one interpretation for her actions that made sense: she’d felt something, but not enough to change her mind about relationships. He needed to accept that.

He had auditions – that was all. His manager had persuaded him that London presented many opportunities and was a good base for extra freelance work if necessary. There was more money in opera in London. That’s why he was there – for the horror of auditions.

‘Don’t hint, Alessandra,’ he muttered. ‘You’re the only friend I have in this country and we both know it.’

After another pause where he could almost hear her protesting, she thankfully let the subject drop.

‘And now, I have to show you…’ she began dramatically, reaching for a thick, bound tome on the coffee table. ‘The photos!’

‘I was there,’ he said indulgently.

‘Just look at them!’ She dumped the album on his lap a little too heavily.

The photos were printed onto high-quality paper, with subtle, fine design that made Mattia think of the team from I Do Destinations – and the one member who’d never fit in.

The photos from the ice cave gave him goosebumps, remembering the texture of the frozen walls and all of the emotions of that day.

Kira had probably already heard about Christian by then, although she’d refused to talk about it.

It was a miracle she’d opened up to Mattia at all, although doctoring a minor head wound had definitely brought them closer.

He brushed his fingertip over the scar on his forehead, which only reminded him of the puckered skin on her cheekbone.

If he’d bled like a soft drink can and only ended up with this faint line, he hated to think how bad her injury had been to leave a patch of discoloured and misshapen skin, years later.

‘It’s a bit strange there are no photos from the chalet,’ he commented.

‘It’s probably for the best, given the hot water wasn’t working and thermal underwear isn’t a good look – even underneath other clothes.’

She turned the pages, skipping over the images of the hotel room where they’d got dressed.

Kira wasn’t in any of the photos – at least that part of wedding planning she’d mastered – but Mattia painted her back in with his memories.

Whenever she’d been in the room, he’d seen everything in brighter colours, felt everything more keenly.

He made the appropriate gushing noises at the posed portraits after the ceremony, in front the old wooden farmhouse with its balconies and slanting roof. Tiny flakes of snow seemed to light up the picture, and the shimmer of rocky mountain peaks in the distance looked too magical to be real.

But the grinning bride and groom were the ones that made the picture into a true fairy tale.

‘This one’s lovely,’ Mattia commented softly, pointing to a photo of Joe tipping Alessandra over his arm, pressing a firm kiss to her cheek while she laughed.

‘I asked them to include lots of photos of the guests too,’ she said, turning the page again.

There was a stunning action shot of the tarantella, taken from a high angle.

Mattia hadn’t noticed the photographer getting up on a chair, but that’s what he must have done.

He picked out Kira immediately, with her strong chin and blue hair.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her face over the past four weeks. She’d unfortunately let him take a photo of her holding her breakfast pretzel at the bakery in Innsbruck. Whenever he looked at her bandaged hands and wry smile, he had a host of contradictory feelings.

He saw none of the other guests in the picture from the tarantella – or even the bridal couple in the middle of the circle. He wondered what Kira was doing and when it would feel normal that he didn’t know.

Alessandra surely noticed the focus of his gaze, but he couldn’t bring himself to shift it, even though he also didn’t want to talk about it. She turned the page slowly, before he was ready, but the photo in the corner of the next page made him freeze, his throat thick.

He was dancing with her. She’d wound her arms around his neck, her body so naturally, so effortlessly close to his.

He’d felt her pulling away that night. Had offered to set her free – not that he’d ever tried to hold her back.

But she hadn’t gone, not until the next day.

She’d asked him what he wanted, too scared to be the one to speak first.

Sometime after that, they’d looked like this: intimate and content and easy. He sighed, loudly enough that Alessandra unfortunately saw it as an opening.

‘You do still feel something for her.’

He laughed darkly. ‘As if that were in doubt!’

‘But then why…? Have you kept in touch?’

He shook his head. ‘She didn’t want to.’ As soon as he said the words, he realised they weren’t quite true. ‘At least, that wasn’t the plan.’

‘But was it your plan?’

‘Even I know having feelings for someone who doesn’t commit will never work out. I accepted that before we started anything.’

Squeezing his arm affectionately, she scooted closer. ‘You changed,’ she said lightly. ‘I think it’s good. I mean, I don’t think you should go out and date casually all the time, but you discovered something, right?’

He nodded. He’d discovered how well two people who were wildly different could fit together in the right circumstances.

‘But Matty,’ she continued, her voice firm, ‘I think Kira changed too.’

He stilled, his ears hot. He didn’t need much encouragement and he was a little resentful of Alessandra for providing it. ‘She didn’t say – anything. Except at the beginning, that she only had casual relationships.’

‘I don’t blame her, after what Christian did. No wonder she was so disparaging of weddings, the poor thing.’

Kira would hate being called a ‘poor thing’. She’d learned to be tough, to protect the soft heart under all her layers. He loved that she was tough – he’d needed that. But maybe he had helped her realise that the soft heart wasn’t a weakness to hide.

‘I understand why she didn’t say anything,’ Alessandra continued, ‘but did you? On that last day, did you say you wanted to see her again? Give her a chance to say no, if that’s what it had to be?’

The heat spread to his cheeks. He couldn’t exactly tell Alessandra that he hadn’t said anything because Kira had pressed a hand to his mouth and moved things on to sex.

But the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense that he’d needed to be the one.

He’d needed to be brave and promise he wouldn’t hurt her, even though she was scared.

Instead, he’d let her go.

‘I collected the photo album in person last weekend,’ Alessandra said.

‘You… Hmm?’

‘Joe and I drove out to Bath, to the office of I Do Destinations. It was lovely to see Ginny again, even though she spent ten minutes apologising for the photographer, who I personally think did an amazing job. The pictures in the ice cave in particular are stunning, since he’s a nature photographer. ’

‘That’s… nice,’ was all Mattia managed to reply. ‘How’s Ginny? On to the next wedding?’

Alessandra nodded. ‘And she’s taken up climbing. She said it’s been good for her confidence, especially since she might have to do some of these outdoor weddings this summer, now they’ve merged with the adventure travel company.’

She couldn’t have known where Mattia’s thoughts would immediately go: Kira hanging from the ceiling of the chalet, her powerful body moving as gracefully as music.

‘I asked Ginny about the classes and she gave me all the info,’ Alessandra continued, oblivious to Mattia’s vivid distraction. ‘She drives down to Weymouth to the gym there, partly because she lives in Glastonbury, which isn’t as far, but mainly because of her teacher.’

She couldn’t quite stifle her smile and Mattia’s heart turned somersaults as he caught her meaning.

She leaned close. ‘Apparently, Kira’s been miserable.’

‘Don’t sound so glad about that!’

‘I bet she’s been miserable over you. I wouldn’t be so happy, except I can see what a mess you are too.’

‘I’m not a mess,’ he protested, although it was feeble. ‘But I could be better,’ he admitted, remembering how much better he was with Kira.

‘Go and see her,’ Alessandra urged.

He studied his hands – his smooth, moisturised hands, so different from her scarred ones.

‘She might not talk to me. She might run.’ He wasn’t sure which was worse: the idea that Kira truly wasn’t interested in anything deeper with him or that she felt so much, he could lose her regard anyway if he pushed too hard when she was still scared.

One would hurt, but the other would cause the worst regret of his life.

‘It can’t be any worse than things are now,’ Alessandra pointed out with a huff.

His gaze dropped to the album, still open to the photo of the two of them, so unexpected and vulnerable in their tenderness, and he accepted that Alessandra was right.

He’d get through his auditions and he’d think of a way to go to her wherever she was comfortable, with no expectations.

The obstacles were surely too great and hope could become hurt later on if he indulged it.

But at least he’d get to see her one more time.