Page 17 of An Italian Wedding Adventure

‘Sophie!’ he said sternly, her name this time a curse. ‘That’s not what I said then and it’s not what I’m saying now. My family… it’s bad enough with them, but with you…’

Her mind and heart pulled in two directions, but she had to keep her wits about her and ignore the consternation in his expression. ‘Perhaps if you could talk in full sentences,’ she said, proud of herself for remaining calm. ‘And I never met your family, as you know. How would I understand what you mean?’

He swiped his fingers over his mouth, staring at the ceiling for a moment, but when he gathered himself enough to speak, his voice was calm, low and full of conviction. ‘It wasn’t about you. I take risks. I have to. I don’t know how to be another way. And that’s not fair to… the people who mean something to me. I can’t take those risks for other people, only for myself. To me, the only logical course of action is to refuse commitment.’

The shadow over his features made her think of Miro, of how Andreas’s friend had died mere weeks after that disastrous conversation, leaving Toni to give birth and raise their child alone.

‘I do understand why you think that,’ she began. This time, the tightening of her arms around herself was to stop her reaching a hand out to him as she would have done in another time. ‘But we can’t choose. I couldn’t just switch off my feelings because you wanted to climb a mountain and you…’ She dropped her gaze. ‘You’ve made an exception for Cillian, but you wouldn’t for me. You just didn’t love me, and that is okay. It just hurts… I mean it used to hurt.’

7

If Andreas had needed a reminder of why being in the same room as Sophie was agony, he had it.

You just didn’t love me…

What could he say to that? That he had wanted to – so badly? That he thought he probably could have – at least better than whatever Orschkopf she’d married. At one time, he’d even thought he could make it work with Sophie, as stupid as that sounded to him now.

His mind spun with the mess of pride and hurt from the day he’d said goodbye to her – and the day weeks later when he’d realised it truly had been the end.

Damn it, this woman turned him into a reckless fool and reckless fools had no place on a mountain.

So, he swallowed deeply and said nothing, even though he’d never seen her look as compelling as she did in that moment, her lips pressed tightly together and her make-up wearing off to show the pale freckles on her nose.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered – an apology that solved nothing. Her doubtful gaze told him she knew it. He leaned one shoulder against the wall next to her, lifting a hand hesitantly to smooth a strand of hair back. The small touch quelled the agony – at least for a moment.

‘What do we do now?’ she asked.

‘We build you an adventure wedding file.’ It was the easy answer. ‘And try to be friends.’

‘Try? Why couldn’t we be friends?’

The consternation in her expression made him smile. He brushed his thumb along her cheek, drifting for the merest second to her lower lip. The way her breath stalled proved his point. No matter how much the past bothered both of them, the pull between them was still alive.

She lifted her chin, the slightest movement, but he saw it, recognised the invitation – the challenge – was desperate to take it. He came closer, each breath heady with memories of a softer, gentler time in his life. But he tipped up his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead instead.

He felt her sway in his direction, her eyes slamming closed, but at least he’d avoided tumbling headfirst back into the intimacy that had ruined them before. She wanted a different life. She wanted marriage, a partner, and repeating history would get them nowhere.

‘We’ll try to be friends,’ he repeated.

She opened her mouth to say something, but a loud buzzing stopped her. Pulling her phone out of her pocket with a frown, she glanced at him apologetically and connected the call, slipping out from under his arm and making him realise how close he’d been standing.

‘Rory? What’s up?’ she answered, turning pointedly away.

Andreas glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.Rory. The name reminded him of Rory Brent, the guy from the Sardinia trip where Sophie and Andreas had first met.

‘Yes, that should be fine. Just leave food and water for her, because I won’t be back until later tonight.’ She paused, listening. ‘I said it’s okay, don’t worry. I’m at home until Monday, so I can have her.’

Her?

‘Have a good time. I’ll see you later.’ She disconnected the call swiftly and he didn’t quite have time to look away. Her cheeks went pink. ‘My dog,’ she blurted out in explanation. ‘I have to take Betsy from…’

He lifted his brow, wishing he wasn’t holding his breath for her answer. Surely it wasn’t the same Rory. That would be… significant in a way he didn’t want to think about.

She blew out a breath. ‘We share custody of the dog,’ she said with a dark smile he didn’t like. ‘My ex-husband and I.’ He watched her swallow and then she headed for the rest of the group around the corner.

Grasping her arm, he stopped her. ‘Rory?’

When she only nodded, avoiding his gaze, his stomach pitched and sank. It shouldn’t have made any difference who she’d married – whoever it was would have been a loser to let her go – but the fact that it might be that stubborn, supercilious Mistkerl, the fact that it might be someone he knew, made him sick.

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