Page 24 of An Italian Wedding Adventure

He’d missed that chance…

She cleared her throat, a small, neat sound that nevertheless held a hint of the same potent memories. ‘I’m surprised you let me, given I’d just been eating octopus salad.’ She forced a laugh and took a long sip of her wine. ‘Tentacle kisses.’

He snorted his wine, spluttering a cough. ‘That wasn’t necessary,’ he said with a pained sigh. ‘I had fond memories of those kisses, but apparently I’d forgotten about your bizarre sense of humour.’

‘Bizarre? Mine? You used to joke about people falling off cliffs and if that’s not poor taste…’

Sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms, he said, ‘Dark humour is a self-preservation tactic.’

‘You didn’t think weird humour might be as well?’

He stilled, his mind racing as he watched her across the table. He suspected he knew what she was protecting herself from. Dinner together had been a bad idea. Sitting across the table from each other, talking while avoiding the many topics that would lead them into trouble, was exhausting.

A waitress arrived with their mains, bringing the scent of spring onions and fresh fish to tease his nose and trigger his appetite, but he only reluctantly cleared away the map that lay ignored between them. It wouldn’t be wise, but he wanted to keep wallowing in the memories – make her remember.

He wanted to make her regret – even if it was only for a moment – giving up on him, onthem. But, God, that was selfish. He’d pushed her towards the exit and even though he’d had a wobble after he got back from Gasherbrum, the fact remained that he still couldn’t give her what she really wanted.

Marriage. Maybe a family. At the very least a partner who put her first and came home to her. Whatever she’d been looking for with Rory Brent.

His thoughts must have shown on his face, because she eyed him before swiping her wine glass and taking a deep sip. ‘Buon appetito,’ she mumbled, picking up her knife and fork and flaying her lasagne with gusto.

Taking his time, he tucked his serviette into his collar and sliced his first piece of fish. ‘Guadn,’ he replied mildly in Tyrolean.

They managed to eat silently for several minutes, but he could see Sophie getting fidgety with no safe topic of conversation. In the past, she would have asked him about the word he’d said, peppered him with questions about home and his family – which he’d answered cagily, because the combination of Sophie and his family had felt like walls closing in on him.

But this time, when she finally gave in and opened a new topic, it wasn’t what he’d expected. ‘Do you want to tell me about the peaks? Lily and Roman are quite keen on one with a cross to mark the summit.’

Lily and Roman? Ah, right. The bride and groom. The reason he was here. A safe topic of conversation. They had business to discuss. He wasnothere to remember little details about Sophie that would drive him crazy while he lay in bed that night.

10

Sophie had thought talking about the end of their relationship had been mortifying enough, but when Andreas had sat calmly across from her and mentioned their first kiss? She was still squirming.

She’d been so naïve back then, pursuing him, believing her feelings meant great things, when they’d been blurred by adrenaline and hormones. But that kiss had been a decisive moment in her life; the way she’d combusted with him had shocked her, like waking up. She might have pursued him first, but he’d responded with vehemence and everything about that night had been more than she’d bargained for – more than she’d been ready for, although she hadn’t realised that at the time.

Perhaps everyone felt as though they would burst the first time they fell in love. Sophie couldn’t picture herself doing anything like that again, no matter how attractive Andreas still looked across the table from her.

She forced herself to pay attention to what he was saying – to the wedding plans – not the slant of his mouth as he spoke or his rough, clipped voice.

‘Not all summits have crosses, but many do. How big will the wedding party be and how long will they need to stay up there?’

‘I don’t have the final numbers, but we’re looking at fifteen to twenty people, about six each at the hen do and the bachelor party. Four parents, all very fit and mobile apparently.NotAunt Frieda,’ she added, one more awkward joke to try to keep her on an even keel.

‘If they have to get up and back in a day, plus all of the… not-marriage stuff?—’

‘You mean the vows? The commitment ceremony?’

‘Is that seriously what you call it?’ he asked, his voice high. ‘It sounds like a ritual that might involve blood – or lawyers.’

‘Usually, I just call it a wedding,’ she said witheringly.

‘Fine, but stopping for a wedding in the middle of a trek…’ He cleared his throat. ‘I still can’t believe what I’m saying.’

‘I still don’t know what your point is.’

He glanced up with an amused glint in his eye. ‘Even if Aunt Frieda isn’t coming, a long hike is going to be too complicated.’

‘As I understand it, they’re after that sense of achievement to mark the occasion. If I suggest a nice Sunday walk, it’s not going to be what they want. They mentioned they climb too.’

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