Page 98 of Ice To Meet You

Matteo grinned. “All you need to know is that this is Esmé’s first time down a glacier, so we’ll need to go gently.”

Antonio’s white teeth sparkled. “A virgin?” He chuckled. “I’ve got you, man. I’ll take your group. The guides can manage the others between them. We’ll see you at the lodge.” He sent me a dazzling smile, then wiggled his eyebrows at Matteo. “Or maybe not.” He turned towards the other skiers, leaving me with molten cheeks and a grin of my own.

“He seems nice.”

“I think there are few other words to describe him, but he’s a good friend.” Matteo looked at the frantic action around us. “I wouldn’t want to build this business with anyone else.”

Matteo left me with strict instructions to keep moving, and I slapped my arms around my body as he got our equipment ready. He’d exchanged his sunglasses for goggles, and he looked all kinds of gorgeous in his fitted, black ski wear. It had that same flash of green that I’d noticed as I’d watched him ski out of my life in Tiano.

I’d never take that risk again.

Finally, he came back to me, offering me his shoulder as I clicked into my skis.

Thanks to a healthy case of jelly legs, I didn’t make full contact with the mechanism initially. I turned to Matteo, gripping his arm.

“They work,” he said. “We aren’t in my grandfather’s village now. This is real big girl stuff. No Pokémon. Just take it easy.”

I nodded, inhaling a steadying breath. This time, I clicked into the binding easily and he gently tapped the top of my helmet.

“Ready?”

I nodded, wishing the ski-fairies would magically appear to safely fly me down the glacier. But I had Matteo, and with the way he’d looked after me so far today, I didn’t doubt he’d throw himself into a crevasse if it meant I got down safely.

He pointed down the mountain. “We’ll go straight down.”

“Down to where?”

The apples of his cheeks rose between his balaclava and his goggles. “You’ll see.”

I stared at the glittering slope below, the endless sweep of white rolling out beneath us like a wave frozen in time before it hit the shore.

My stomach twisted, and I gripped my poles tighter, cursingmy Pilates lapse and shaky knees. But then, as though sensing my fear, Matteo was there, his hand warm and solid at my back.

“I know you can ski. Hell, you can even make it off a chairlift on one leg. Just keep your eyes on me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll take it one turn at a time.”

I breathed out, stilling my racing heart, thanking my lucky stars that Matteo was the one standing next to me. My leisurely ski holidays in the past could never have prepared me for this descent, but just his presence was an anchor—a steady pull I could trust in, even if my vision swam every time I looked down.

I nodded, and he squeezed my arm, moving ahead of me and waiting on the snow below. With a squeal, I let go and swept downhill, before stepping into my first turn. When the speed made my chest tug, I pulled up next to him, covering him in a shower of powder. He held up a glove to shield his goggles, his cheeks lifted in a smile.

“You want to make it down in one piece? Being able to see where I’m going might be important.”

“Sorry!”

As my heart pounded, we repeated the process a little more slowly. Matteo went ahead, carving a path for me to follow, pausing on the slope—ready to catch me if I wiped out and plummeted off the mountain. But I didn’t.

Instead, muscle memory kicked in, and flashes of schoolgirl slalom races surfaced—long-forgotten tips from holiday instructors came back like second nature. A warmth prickled through my chest. Despite the broken leg in my early twenties, I was a far better skier than I remembered.

After the third run, and the third dousing in powder for Matteo, I pulled up at his side.

He tugged down his balaclava, freeing his lips. “See, it's thateasy. This is how we’re going to make it down. We can take as long as you need.”

True to his word, we slowly picked our way down the mountain. I tumbled over three times, but he always picked me up with a kiss on my balaclava-covered nose.

Soon enough, the slope widened, and we moved together instead of him going ahead. He kept his pace matched to mine, always close enough that I could reach for his gloved hand when I faltered. It was like he always knew where I’d put my skis next on the mountain. He gave me enough space to push a little harder—to take on the challenge of the descent rather than shy away. To feel the thrill for myself.

Soon, the steep, rugged mountain gave way to the vast, bowl-like expanse of the glacier. Countless frozen snowflakes and shards of ice compressed into a shimmering, fractured sheet that stretched endlessly before us. The sight and the glory of nature took my breath away.

The lull in speed and intensity allowed me to take in my surroundings properly—and not all of them were frozen.

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