Page 28 of A Winter Wedding Adventure
‘At least Kira will be lucky for the wedding,’ Ginny said, shooting her a tight look that clearly said Shut the fuck up, now. ‘She’s our “something blue”.’
‘Lucky, hmmm,’ was all Alessandra could manage in reply. ‘Who else wants hot chocolate? Maybe we can go sit by the fire,’ she suggested suddenly, her voice strained. ‘I’ll have mine with vodka.’
That was Kira’s cue to get the hell out of there.
Dinner and dessert were delicious, but interminable when Mattia’s thoughts were torn between guilt about Carla, and curiosity about Kira – as well as those cupboard fantasies that wouldn’t go away When Alessandra proposed moving to the den, Mattia paused in indecision, Carla’s eyes hanging off him as though she were actually holding his arm, when Kira quietly excused herself and headed for the door.
‘Ehm, I need to get my… sweater,’ he mumbled, making for the exit after her.
Closing the wooden door to the dining room behind him, he scoured the hallway for signs of her, just catching the swish of her slippers and creak of the floorboards. He was hurrying after her, determined to find out what had upset her – because he was certain she was upset – when the door behind him opened.
‘Matty, can we talk for a minute?’
Hearing his nickname in her voice sent a wash of memories through him – stricken ones from the end of their relationship as well as deep, immersive ones from the beginning. Maybe Kira had a point: it was better never to let anyone close enough to hurt.
‘Sure,’ he said, making no move to take the conversation to a more comfortable location.
‘How have you been?’ Carla began.
He paused for barely a moment, before his experiences of the past two days galvanised something inside him and he spoke more openly than he’d expected. ‘We’ve had all dinner to talk, Carla. What do you really want to say to me?’
He already knew, as much as he’d been telling himself he didn’t.
‘Did you notice anything… different tonight?’
‘Yes, I did. I appreciate the effort you went to.’
She seemed to take his stiff words as encouragement. ‘I understand now, that I wasn’t fair to you, and I’m really sorry.’
He sent a forlorn glance along the hall. ‘I accept the apology.’
‘You do?’
Her delighted expression unnerved him. ‘I’m sorry too. Most people wouldn’t even hear those sounds.’
She took a step closer and he resisted the urge to move an equal distance away. ‘But you can,’ she said gently, her gaze growing soft. ‘I shouldn’t have let something like that come between us. I know you’re sensitive and I love that. I shouldn’t have taken it personally.’
He paused, waiting for relief to flood him at her words. The hurts, the worries about whether he’d ever find someone he could be himself with could all go away again. He could go back to the way things were before.
Except, that didn’t work.
‘It’s okay, Carla. You can let it go.’ He hoped she would.
‘We’re still friends, right?’
An uneasy prickle crept up his neck. ‘Mmph,’ he agreed non-committally.
With a dull thud, his heels hit the skirting board and he realised he’d backed himself up as far as he could go, but Carla was still coming closer, her brown eyes luminous in the gentle lighting. Ohhhh no.
He experienced a flash of something warm as she approached, an echo of intimacy that tugged at him. His conversation with Kira from that morning was fresh in his memory. Friends, lovers, soulmates, blowing off steam. Her straightforward conversation and expressive lips. Mattia couldn’t do this.
He slipped out from where she’d caged him against the wall and ran an agitated hand through his curls. ‘I’m really sorry,’ was all he said. He needed to find Kira and ask her why she’d been upset – and hear her claims that she wasn’t upset and gently wheedle her until she told him.
‘Matty, wait!’ Carla called after him when he made for the corner where he’d last heard Kira. ‘Is that all you’re going to say?’
‘Ehm… Right now? Yes. I have to—’ He stumbled as he whirled around to make his escape.
Safely out of Carla’s sight, he took a panting breath. Kira was nowhere to be seen and he didn’t know which one was her room – or whether she’d tolerate him knocking on her door. Whether he could do any good even if she did.
