Page 70 of A Winter Wedding Adventure
Mattia’s melodramatic gag earned him a poke from her elbow, but Kira chuckled at him. ‘I wouldn’t eat raisins, even for luck.’
‘You know what’s strange,’ Hugh piped up. ‘Without that clock, we wouldn’t even know when it’s midnight, since all our phones are dead.’
‘And we won’t have any photos!’ Tonya lamented.
‘I could turn my phone on for a photo, I suppose,’ Kira suggested. ‘One photo won’t take too much of the battery.’
By the time she’d got the old device switched on, the numbers on the screen read 23:59 and Yolanda dashed back into the dining room from the hallway, clapping her hands excitedly.
All eyes turned to Alessandra and Joe, the not-wedded couple, and Kira was dismayed to see tears in Alessandra’s eyes. She’d never been so relieved to see a man step up, when Joe took her chin and turned her face to his, speaking urgently in a low voice.
A chime sounded from the hallway and Signor Martinelli raised his glass with a cheer. After four strikes to signal the hour, the moment stretched as they held their breath for a cue from the beleaguered bride and groom.
With a sniff, Alessandra fumbled for the bowl of grapes and at the first gong, she slipped one into Joe’s mouth. The collective sigh of relief became rather manic amusement as the clock gonged much too quickly for the couple to eat their grapes. Alessandra laughed and a grape tumbled out of Joe’s mouth as he joined her.
Kira groped for her phone and snapped a few hurried photos. The torchlight was dim, making the photos grainy and eerie. Candid wedding shots were hopefully on-trend.
‘¡Dios mío!’ Yolanda groaned, throwing up her hands.
‘Don’t worry, cara,’ Francesca declared, coming at the couple with the bowl of lentils and dropping a spoonful into each mouth.
‘Mamma!’ Alessandra mumbled while chewing, but her mother ignored her, shovelling in another spoonful before handing the bowl to the others to share. Kira took more photos, capturing the guests passing around the bowl of humble lentils.
When it reached Mattia, he held it out to her first and she sneaked a photo of him, eyebrows up, chiselled features dramatic in the harsh light, peering at her from under those astonishing lashes. She wondered if she’d regret that photo later when she found herself mooning over it, long after they’d all gone home.
Setting down her phone, she picked up her fork and took some lentils as he said softly, ‘Buon anno nuovo, Kira.’
‘Happy New Year,’ she whispered back.
A raucous cheer drew her attention back to the rest of the group and she saw Joe pulling Alessandra gently to her feet. Taking a deep breath, he picked up her hand and drew her into a slow waltz. He stumbled a few times without music, but Francesca clapped a gentle beat and her husband hummed a well-known tune.
After giving her a twirl, he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered something that made her smile through the tears tumbling down her cheeks.
‘I promise we’ll have an amazing wedding, with every detail perfect, because that’s what you deserve, Alessandra.’
Carla snorted a sob and Nadine was dabbing at her eyes.
‘Oh look, mistletoe!’ Joe said in mock surprise. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss onto Alessandra’s lips to a chorus of cheering and raised glasses.
It appeared they would have a wedding after all, as soon as the snow cleared. Alessandra wouldn’t be jilted at the altar. Kira would have to stand there awkwardly in her dress and face Christian while trying to keep it together.
Then the next day, they’d all go home, as though nothing had changed. Nothing had changed. She had her crags and her adventures, friends who couldn’t hurt her. She’d only held hands with him – that was all.
She stood with a huff, trying to clear her self-pity, and mumbled something about checking on the wood-burning stoves. She could feel Mattia behind her, narrowly evaded the touch of his hand on her arm. What was she even doing, leaning on him?
Trying to squeeze past Alessandra and Joe surreptitiously, she was appalled to hear Carla’s voice.
‘Kira, wait!’
‘Hmm?’ was all she managed in reply.
The bridesmaid’s tentative smile only confused Kira. ‘You’re standing under the mistletoe.’
Her throat clogged. Her shoulder brushed something – or rather someone – standing equally still just behind her and she heard his gulp.
Alessandra laughed. ‘Yes, go on, Matty. The two of you have been wonderful today, making all of this happen.’
Kira’s cheeks were unbearably hot, her chest tight. What would Reshma say about this, given that the bride had now dictated a kiss? Glancing warily up at Mattia, she found his head already ducked towards her.
