Page 94 of An Italian Wedding Adventure

‘Well, no flowers, but I did get you something else as well. The internet connection will take a few weeks – maybe while I’m away in Nepal.’

Rummaging for something in his pocket, he produced a velvet bag and tugged on the drawstring.

Grasping her hand, he draped a fine silver chain around her wrist, fumbling with the tiny clasp. It was simple and elegant, two small, clear stones in silver settings the only added decoration. He brushed his fingers over her wrist.

‘The day after we kissed – in the apartment, back in June,’ he began haltingly, ‘you were wearing a particular top and I kept thinking how lovely your wrists were and how I wanted to give you a bracelet.’

Her brows flew up. ‘I thought you were just grumpy.’

‘You were right next to me and I thought there was no way in the world you would want this – me.’ His smile was pained as he ran his fingers up her arm. ‘The stones in the bracelet are rock crystal – we call it Bergkristall in German: mountain crystals. To remind you that you do like to climb mountains, although you also look amazing in those shoes.’

‘I do like to climb mountains,’ she admitted, twining her arms around his neck. ‘But thank you for coming into the valley for me.’

‘Always,’ he whispered, pulling her tight to him. ‘I’ll always come back to you.’

37

A hectic three weeks later, Andreas dumped an enormous duffel bag on the tiles of the departures hall at Munich airport, freeing up a hand to greet Karel Brzezinski. The Polish mountaineer had his own bag of equipment and the third member of their team, Jan Kastelic, would arrive any moment.

Andreas had flown to Kathmandu many times over the years, but that day felt like the first time. Not because he was nervous. The ghostly landscape of monumental ice formations, snowy escarpments and bitter cold called to something deep in his nature and he could already feel the ice axe in his hand and the harsh sunlight of high altitude.

But everything was different knowing Sophie stood off to the side, her arms around herself, waiting to send him off. She’d offered to stay away, but a proper goodbye had felt a necessary respect for everything she meant to him.

She was a saint for waiting patiently while they wrestled their equipment into four bags and had the requisite argument with the man at the check-in desk. Then it was time for him to work out how to say goodbye to the love of his life.

This trip definitely felt different.

He dragged his feet as he approached her, reaching out to take her hands. There were dark circles under her eyes; he knew she hadn’t slept well the night before, burrowing into him instead of rolling away to get comfortable.

‘Six weeks,’ he said, mostly for his own benefit. She knew exactly how long he’d be away.

‘Maybe seven,’ she completed for him with a faint smile. ‘Two months if the weather doesn’t cooperate.’

‘I don’t usually count the days until the return flight,’ he commented absently.

‘Enjoy your summit, Andreas,’ she said softly. ‘Stand up there and think about how much I love you.’

With a huff of disbelief, he lifted his hands to her face, studying the features that were dearer to him than he’d imagined possible. ‘You’re a miracle, Sophie-Leigh.’ He pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her lips and she leaned into it, drawing out the affectionate touch. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

‘I’ll be here when you get back. Nothing will stop me.’

This time, when a particular memory surfaced, it brought him something like wonder, rather than the familiar shaft of regret. He remembered a younger Sophie, restless with nerves, looking earnestly into his face and asking him to marry her.

She’d had the right idea.

Struggling to pull away from what felt an inadequate goodbye, he made a snap decision as he stared into her face. ‘Wait there a minute?’

Rummaging in his carry-on, he came away with the little package he’d tucked into a zipped inside pocket, ready to make the journey with him all the way to the top as usual. The object wasn’t its familiar shape; it was bigger, with edges that he’d run his thumb over a hundred times already.

‘Don’t say anything,’ he muttered, reaching for her left hand. Giving her wrist a light kiss, near the bracelet she rarely took off, he took a deep breath and slipped the ring onto her finger.

There. That hadn’t been too hard. Except now he had to look up at her face. He’d told her not to say anything, but he’d see in her expression what she felt about the significance of the action he’d just taken.

Swallowing his trepidation, he gripped her hand tightly and lifted his gaze. She was staring at her hand, at the glinting emerald set in a simple white-gold ring – a solitaire, the jeweller had called it.

Her hand curled around his and he searched for the best place to start speaking, but she beat him to it. ‘Isn’t it supposed to go up with you?’

‘I was going to take it up one last time, but… Look, Sophie,’ he began, ‘you asked me a question, before I left for Gasherbrum.’

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