Page 67 of An Italian Wedding Adventure

‘It would have been good of you to tell me you were coming yourself, rather than letting me make the wrong assumptions and find out from Kira.’ She hoped her voice was even and that he didn’t notice she’d avoided the question.

‘Sorry, I… the “clean break” thing…’

Her cheeks grew hot and she thought again about those text messages that had got lost all those years ago. He’d said things were better the way they were. Thinking about what might have been was pointless when he still couldn’t commit.

‘Roman is thrilled to have you here,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘He’s lucky your departure date for Manaslu turned out to be later.’

The expression that flickered on his face was confusing.

‘You are still going to Manaslu, right?’

‘Yes,’ he said, with less conviction than she’d expected. ‘In three weeks.’ Sophie wished her stomach hadn’t plummeted at that.

‘Well,’ she said with a carelessness she didn’t feel, ‘enjoy your time at sea level while it lasts.’

She showed him into the breakfast room and he set the pizzas on a table. His mouth was twisted, as though he wanted to say something.

‘I can get them to fill in the forms for you,’ she said before he had the chance. ‘You don’t have to hang around.’ She didn’t want him staying to study her with that much intensity.

With one last nod, he turned to leave, settling his cap more firmly on his head.

26

Sophie awoke less-than-refreshed after a night of tossing and turning, her brain running scenarios of what Andreas had wanted to say, from, ‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,’ to, ‘Just so you know, I’ve got back together with Kira and we’re banging like rabbits in the apartment where you thought we “made love”.’

Jarring fully awake at that last one, she felt as though she’d run a marathon in her sleep and she groaned, tempted to curse something full of consonants – something from Andreas’s vocabulary of unintelligible swear words in his dialect.

But she was determined to be the usual Sophie today, smiling at her really rather sweet client couple and doing everything she could to make their time here memorable.

She floated into the breakfast room and headed straight for the hot-water dispenser because Sophie was nothing if not an expert at prioritisation. Unfortunately, Lucia, the troublemaking bridesmaid, and maid of honour Adelaide stopped her before she could get there.

With one longing look at the teabags in their fancy paper envelopes, she turned to her guests with as much of a smile as she could muster – which quickly drooped when she saw their expressions.

‘We haven’t mentioned this to Lily because we don’t want to stress her out,’ Adelaide said in an exaggerated whisper.

Sophie moved them surreptitiously out of sight of the bride. ‘What’s happened? I’m sure we can work it out.’

‘It’s my fault,’ Lucia said in a small voice.

‘It was an honest mistake,’ Adelaide reassured her, making Lucia look a little green.

The bridesmaid took a deep breath. ‘I broke up with my boyfriend a month ago. He’s arriving today. You might have noticed I’ve been a bit of a cow.’

‘As long as you can keep it together for the wedding, you have my sympathy,’ Sophie said, remembering her first few weddings after she’d separated from Rory.

Lucia’s expression wobbled as though she hadn’t expected the kindness. ‘It didn’t occur to me that we’d booked one room for the two of us, but now the manager said they’re fully booked.’

Alarm raced up the back of Sophie’s neck. ‘He doesn’t have a room. Oh, shit.’ She bit her lip, ignoring the surprised looks from the bridesmaids at her language. ‘Don’t worry. I can fix this,’ she said, feeling wobbly on her feet, but with a sense of inevitability. ‘He can have my room. That way, you’re all still at the same hotel.’

‘Wow, that’s so kind!’ Adelaide exclaimed. ‘But what will you do?’

‘There will be space somewhere.’ And if there wasn’t, there was a trundle bed in the attic at Andreas’s apartment, she thought, as she resisted the urge to laugh from her belly – or cry, she wasn’t sure which. ‘Let me pack my things so Elena can get the room cleaned.’

The wedding guests split up for the day’s activities – windsurfing for the more adventurous or markets and sightseeing in Limone. Sophie was thankful to discover that the parents of the bride and groom were just as active as Lily and Roman had assured her, but even they faded after two hours of admiring ceramics and tasting olive oil in thirty-degree heat.

Sophie herded the group towards a café with tables by the harbour, sheltered by white umbrellas, potted palms and a lush grapevine, while her mind whirred with arrangements for the rest of the week. With a sinking feeling, she realised she needed to discuss the schedule in detail with Andreas and if she hadn’t been so nervous last night, she could have at least got his confirmation that the weather forecast was favourable.

There was some rain due on Wednesday and Thursday, but Friday looked clear – Friday, the day she’d pencilled in for the climb to Cima Rocca and the ceremony by the summit cross, the part she’d been quietly blocking out since they arrived and she saw the familiar soaring peaks. The week had turned out even hotter than usual for mid-September. It would be nearly ten degrees warmer on the via ferrata than the day Andreas had kissed her against the rock – although she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that.

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