Page 69 of A Winter Wedding Adventure
Mattia’s sheepish look, when she glanced back to him, warmed her from the inside.
‘You’ve been busy,’ she commented.
‘The other option was playing cards,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I hate cards.’
‘I hope you’ll stay and celebrate the new year with us tonight?’ Rav asked. The invitation seemed sincere. Although she’d had to endure more pity – from him and all the others – than she was comfortable with, she had to acknowledge that nothing else had changed now everyone knew about Christian. She was still herself. She hadn’t regressed to the impulsive and naive nineteen-year-old she’d been. There were other things on her mind right now – another person.
She didn’t want to keep herself apart from everyone else tonight.
‘I’m looking forward to it.’
When Rav and Signor Martinelli left the room, the urge to hug Mattia was nearly overpowering. ‘Thank you,’ she muttered. ‘This is a great idea.’
‘It wasn’t my idea. It’s New Year’s Eve. Wedding or no wedding, we have to celebrate.’
‘I suppose we do.’ She could think of a few ways she’d like to do that, if Mattia would just come a little closer.
‘There are all those evil spirits to scare away.’
‘I thought your necklace took care of that?’ she teased.
‘On the last day of the year, you also need fire and red underwear to do the job.’
She dropped her gaze pointedly and his cheeks turned a nice colour to scare away more evil spirits. ‘The evil spirits are scared of your red underwear?’
He grinned. ‘Something like that. We also throw stuff out of the window in Naples – plates and small items of furniture. We have to make room for the new things.’
Before Kira could tease him, the door behind them banged open and Signora Martinelli bustled in with a salad, followed by Joe’s mother. ‘I have no idea what this is, but it smells divine!’ Nadine declared.
Mattia leaned close to whisper, ‘Zia Francesca probably doesn’t know either, as the tins were all in German. She just doused everything in garlic and herbs and olive oil.’
As the doors opened and closed, guests bustling through to build the potluck celebration of the year about to start in a manner none of them had expected, Kira groped for Mattia’s hand, linking her fingers with his and leaning back against him, close enough to catch his indrawn breath.
Staring at the table but seeing nothing, time seemed to slow around her. She knew exactly who she wanted to kiss at midnight – and what memories she wanted to throw out of the window. It was what happened tomorrow that she was less certain of.
27
‘It is so quiet here; we must make more noise!’ Signor Martinelli declared, tapping his spoon against his glass.
Kira thought this Neapolitan New Year, snowed in at the Kitzingalm Hütte, had certainly been a noisy affair so far, despite the lack of electricity. Conversation never stopped, between Alessandra – perhaps a little desperately gregarious tonight – and her lively parents, who drew everyone into the conversation in a mix of Italian and halting English.
There were rousing serenades with a percussion accompaniment of knocking on the table. Mattia had allowed himself to be imposed upon for an occasional tune which at least gave Kira a breather from the whirlwind of conversation, even though it brought on the familiar ache in her chest when his voice wrapped around her heart.
He’d taken the seat next to her and her evening had been pleasantly punctuated by nudges from his elbow and the occasional brush of his fingers on her arm. Kira was less worried about the eyes on them, because everyone was carefully tiptoeing around Alessandra and Joe, sitting together at the other end of the table.
Ever since the disaster on the ski slopes, Joe had been subdued. He joined in with the conversation, but he only perked up on the occasions when Alessandra leaned close and said something softly just for him.
Francesca had found a single tin of mountain lentils and warmed it on the stove once more as the hour ticked towards midnight, setting the dish in the middle of the table with a flourish and the tangy scent of bay leaves.
‘For good luck,’ she explained to Nadine. ‘I only wish we had more.’ With a glance at the bride and groom, her meaning was clear.
‘We have some grapes,’ Yolanda added, moving the bowl nearer to the bridal couple. ‘There is a big clock in the hallway that will chime. You should feed each other one grape for each chime of the clock. That’s what we do in Spain.’
‘Some people at home do that too,’ Carla added.
‘I don’t think there’s enough luck for everyone this year,’ Mattia muttered with a wry smile.
‘Maybe I could find some raisins?’ Yolanda suggested apologetically.
