Chapter 25
25
‘If you don’t take it easy, I’m going to lose my lunch!’ Kira braced herself against the dashboard with one arm as Andreas dodged a cyclist in hi-vis wear on the narrow single carriageway lined with stone walls and hedgerows, heavy with late-summer greenery.
He eased off the accelerator. He’d just lost concentration for a moment, that was all. He was usually a good driver, although he’d never worked out why English people liked hedgerows so much when they were a deathtrap if you drove at – or slightly over, which was still fine – the speed limit.
With her foot propped on the seat, Kira swivelled to face him. She was always putting her feet all over the furniture.
‘If you take your shoes off at weddings, too, you’re going to end up as Cinderella one day.’
She snorted a laugh. ‘You think I’ll marry a prince?’
‘You’d die of boredom,’ he said, checking his blind spot before turning.
‘You’re funny, but I’m not letting you off the hook. You’re nervous about seeing her. You’re never yourself when Sophie is in the picture.’
The lump in his throat grew bigger. That much was true; he was a much better person when Sophie was around. But he didn’t want Kira to suspect how mushy he’d been feeling since June. He didn’t know if Sophie had been thinking about him as much as he’d thought about her.
‘I’m just worried about you,’ she said.
‘Don’t be,’ he said, flashing her a reassuring smile.
Another snort of laughter, this time full of scepticism. ‘Well, that was expected. You don’t let anyone worry about you. If we were talking about climbing a rock face, I wouldn’t be, but Sophie’s your weakness, so don’t do anything stupid.’
‘What stupid thing am I likely to do? Buy a suit and ask her to marry me?’ His hair stood on end as he uttered the joke, but it had the desired effect on Kira.
‘Ha. Ha. The necktie would strangle you before you ever got to the altar.’
She directed him through the backstreets in the south of Bath and he pulled the Land Rover to a stop outside a red-brick terrace, its sparse design tempered by a bright-green door and an orchid on the ground-floor windowsill.
He was just trying to resist thinking something stupid like, So this is where she lives , and imagining her greeting him with a smile, when the door opened and a man appeared – a man Andreas recognised.
He set a white, fluffy dog on the ground and turned back as Sophie appeared in the door. Lifting a hand to her head, the man leaned up and?—
Bang .
Rory jumped in surprise, dropping his hand as Andreas slammed the door of the Land Rover so hard, it was a miracle the glass didn’t shatter.
‘We need to go,’ Andreas said, jerking his arm up to glance at his watch, but seeing nothing. When Rory’s eyes widened, Andreas recognised his mistake.
‘It’s not… What are—’ Rory turned back to Sophie as the dog yapped and pulled at the lead. ‘What is Andreas doing here?’
‘Driving to the airport,’ Sophie said tightly, settling the dog with a hand on its back before fetching a suitcase and locking the pretty, green door. ‘Good morning, Andreas,’ she said when she turned to him and with a sinking feeling, he realised he hadn’t even uttered a greeting.
She looked good – she always looked good. Her hair was a little longer and held back with a clip. She had a pair of star-shaped studs in her ears that he liked. The curve of her ear he liked even more.
The dog continued yapping, but Rory did nothing about it. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were back together?’
‘Why does she have to tell you?’ Andreas shot back before he’d thought it through.
Sophie made a tight, frustrated noise and shook her head. ‘Let’s just go,’ she said, giving him a nudge to his chest when he didn’t respond.
‘I think it would be a common courtesy!’ Rory replied, finally trying to shush the dog as the eager barking reached fever pitch. ‘Especially since she always denied she still had feelings for you.’
Even the dog fell silent at that.
‘Rory—’ Sophie warned in a choked voice.
‘God, after all these years, I can’t believe I was fucking right,’ Rory said, his voice high. ‘I knew you never really committed to me because of him. It was all because of him !’
The next nudge Sophie gave Andreas was harder and with a quick, shocked glance at her, he took the hint and tumbled back into the driver’s seat as Rory’s words echoed in his head. Because of him …
‘Goodbye, Rory. Thanks for taking Betsy. I’ll be home on Sunday,’ Sophie called out in an attempt at a dismissive tone.
‘How long?’ Rory persisted.
Andreas waited silently, ignoring Kira’s pointed look, for Sophie to tell her ex they weren’t together, that he’d got everything wrong. But she didn’t.
‘Goodbye, Rory!’ was all she said before heaving on the door handle to make a dignified exit.
Except, because his car was a pile of shit, the door stuck, leaving her jerking at it ineffectually, strands of her hair coming loose. Andreas scrambled to open it from the inside – and accidentally knocked the door frame into her face.
‘Ow!’
‘Porzehittn! Sophie!’
She batted him away when he got back out of the car and grasped for her.
‘Let me see.’
Flashing him a dark look, she nevertheless stilled and let him tip her face up to the light to check for scratches.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, trying to focus on something other than the sensation of her skin under his fingertips – after three of the longest months of his life.
‘Two minutes back together and you’re already apologising— I mean, back in my company, not “back together”,’ she qualified uneasily.
A smile twitched on his lips. ‘Of course not,’ he said, brushing his thumb down her cheek one last time. ‘Nothing broken, I don’t think.’
She squared her shoulders. ‘That’s lucky. A black eye would have been the perfect start to this wedding.’
The wedding wasn’t what concerned Andreas. The happy couple could make their promises in a bivouac if it came to that. He wanted to put things right with Sophie – whatever ‘right’ looked like to her – but seeing Rory had riled all his feelings up again.
And what had her ex-husband meant, ‘ You never really committed to me because of him ’?
‘Just don’t expect me to be here to comfort you again when he dumps you, Soph!’
Andreas stiffened. Giving Sophie’s shoulder a quick squeeze, he took slow steps towards Rory until he was close enough to speak without her hearing – and had taken a moment to settle his racing thoughts.
‘Andreas,’ she called, a warning in her voice.
But of all the choice words he had for Rory Brent – including several colourful insults in dialect about cabbage and cucumbers – the calm, considered ones he actually said hit deepest.
‘Being there to comfort her was an honour you should have appreciated.’
* * *
Telling herself this would be the most awkward wedding of her career would help no one, so Sophie brushed away the thought as soon as it assailed her. She wished she’d handed Betsy over last night so there would have been no chance of Rory seeing Andreas – or Andreas seeing Rory, or whichever was worse. And she should have better prepared herself for the reality of sitting in close quarters with Andreas and pretending she’d managed that clean break.
She didn’t know what he’d said to her ex-husband, but he’d been particularly grumpy when he’d returned to the car – perhaps because he’d kept his big hands to himself, not that Rory was worth a punch when he had an expedition coming up.
She felt Kira’s curious looks as they held a stilted, casual conversation on the way to the airport and then the wedding guests descended, leaving Sophie hyper-aware of everything Andreas did, but with a strong imperative to ignore all of it.
When they all landed in Verona and Kira and Andreas headed to Marniga in the old Panda, leaving Sophie with the guests in the hired minibus, she could finally calm down and focus on her clients.
But her brain kept hanging on the image of Andreas, silver hoop winking in his ear, giving Rory a terrifying look and asking why he thought she had to explain herself to him. For once, she was glad she’d peeked at the pictures from their trip a little too often, or the sight of him might have made her do something stupid like throw her arms around him.
Now they were back at the lake for Lily and Roman’s big day, not to reminisce about her own romantic trip. Usually, she thrived on the business end of weddings – both the literal business side of budgets and bookings, and the figurative business end, when the big day loomed and there were a thousand small errands to run.
But that Monday, her head felt concerningly foggy and she itched to pull her tablet from her bag and recheck her lists, because she couldn’t seem to remember the work that awaited her once she’d got the wedding party settled into the hotel. She already felt slightly out-of-control, which wasn’t normal.
Thirteen guests had arrived on the flight today with another three expected tomorrow. The minibus made its way along the winding Adige river from Verona, cutting through sweeping, trellised vineyards with looming hills on both sides, and finally approached the lake. Olive trees flashed by on the side of the road and a town in the valley below them baked in the warm sun, the slanted lines of Monte Brione appearing hazy in the sunshine.
The parents of the bride and groom had their faces glued to the windows and the wedding party seemed to be in high spirits. It would all work out.
Then the bridesmaid, Lucia, opened her mouth and Sophie’s tension zipped right back up again. ‘Please tell me we have that guide for the hen do!’
‘Lucia!’ the maid of honour admonished her. ‘It’s not like he’s a stripper! We’re going kayaking for the hen do.’
‘If he’s shirtless in tight swimmers, it’ll be even better than if we’d booked Lily a stripper.’
Sophie counted silently to ten. If this was what the bridesmaids were like without alcohol, it was a very good thing they were kayaking for the hen do and not doing anything involving shots – or strippers.
‘I thought by bringing everyone here, we’d manage to avoid all that stuff,’ Lily said with a huff from her position at the back of the minibus.
Sophie breathed again. Gently reprimanding a group of bridesmaids for objectifying her… colleague wasn’t something she’d wanted on her to-do list for the day.
Roman turned around and asked, ‘Are you talking about Andreas Hinterdorfer?’
Oh God, if only everyone would stop talking about Andreas Hinterdorfer, she might have a chance to clear her head!
‘I can’t believe Andreas Hinterdorfer is coming to our wedding! He’s climbed Everest six times! I went to see an exhibition of photos from two of his expeditions by that famous nature photographer.’
Ah, Rhys the nature photographer who refused to take pictures of people – apparently unless those people were at foolishly high altitude.
‘I was just looking at how big his hands are!’ Lucia said emphatically as the minibus disappeared into a tunnel.
Lily sighed, putting Sophie on alert. ‘Lucia, I really want you to have a good time?—’
‘I know what you’re going to say, so don’t bother,’ Lucia cut her off, her smile vanishing. She glanced out of the window at the glimpses of turquoise water through the arches. ‘I won’t ruin your wedding, don’t worry. Besides, it’s Sophie the wedding planner who’s got something going on with our mountain guide – right?’
Heat rushed to Sophie’s cheeks. She always tried to be open and friendly with wedding parties so she didn’t feel like an awkward addition on the big day, but the question pushed her to the limit. ‘I— Erm…’
The minibus shot out of the tunnel into the sunshine, the road running right along the waterfront with a sheer rock face on the other side. With gasps and sighs, the wedding guests were thankfully more interested in the view than Sophie’s questionable love life and she couldn’t blame them when the stony mountains tumbled theatrically into the rippling water and every shade of green and blue – and the orange of the clay roofs – was enhanced by the late-summer sun.
Lily and Roman shared a grin. The awkward moment had passed without Sophie having to decide what on earth to say.
After twenty minutes of breathtaking views and stern reminders to herself not to seek out glimpses of the places she’d visited with Andreas, Sophie and the guests arrived at the hotel in Limone sul Garda to a chorus of happy murmurs.
Sophie loved this place. The hotel was tucked against a rock face at the edge of the town, above old, terraced gardens of olive trees, spreading stone pines, palms and tall, thin cypresses. A curving swimming pool occupied one end of the largest terrace. The clay roofs of the town of Limone were visible to the south and directly in front, the lake glittered and the sun hit the sloping meadows and jutting rock of the Monte Baldo massif on the other side.
She’d worked with the hotel on three weddings now and she knew prosecco on the roof terrace awaited the guests. Then they’d enjoy the pool or walk down to the shore while Sophie met with the hotel manager to tackle any last-minute problems.
Once all that was achieved, she’d wave off the guests as they walked to the Romantica restaurant for their seafood linguine or grilled whole lavarello with lemon and herbs with a glass of chilled soave, while she breathed out with an aperitif on her own tiny balcony on the top floor of the hotel, before ordering some stuffed gnocchi to take away for herself. Amidst the stress of the events leading up to the wedding, that time was precious to her. She needed it more than usual that day.
As soon as she saw Elena, the manager, coming out to meet her, a world of worry in her tight expression, Sophie suspected her wind-down time wouldn’t be coming as soon as she’d hoped.
She was thanking her lucky stars that Lily and Roman were so happy and easy-going an hour later as she juggled a stack of pizza boxes with the receipt clutched between her lips. A voice called out from behind her.
‘Looks like I arrived right on time.’
Sophie stumbled, feeling the boxes slide, her thoughts racing forward with the image of them taking a nosedive and ending up crumpled on the ground in a fragrant pile. But before any of that could actually happen, another pair of hands steadied the precarious pizza tower – unmistakably large hands, with a braid of leather around one wrist.
‘I thought your weddings were supposed to be gourmet events. I would come along for takeaway pizza. Oh, here. Let me help you.’
Instead of him taking the pizzas, as she’d expected, he snagged the receipt out of her mouth and prompted her with a look.
‘We had a problem with our usual restaurant,’ she mumbled, her lips dry. ‘They had an electrical fire yesterday. No one else could accommodate such a large group at short notice, so they opted for pizza rather than splitting up.’
‘Do things like this happen a lot?’
‘They happen,’ she snapped, ‘but not a lot. What are you doing here?’
‘Paperwork,’ he said, brandishing a sheaf of print-outs. ‘We need release forms on file.’
Sophie stopped so suddenly, the pizzas slipped again and she staggered drunkenly in an attempt to right them. ‘Are you going to help me? Or is balancing a tower of pizza boxes all on my own a skill you think I need to master for my own good?’
He stopped short and she had to turn to look at him. With an alarmingly perceptive spark in his eye, he slapped his release forms on top of the boxes and then took the whole stack from her, capturing her arms briefly against his.
‘You asked for help,’ he observed. ‘Well done, Sophie.’
‘Give me a break,’ she muttered. ‘You could have told me you were coming with paperwork. I need to know these details. What if we hadn’t been here?’
‘I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.’
Sophie’s misgiving swelled. Lily and Roman’s wedding was the first of its kind for I Do – or for Great Heart Adventure Weddings, she should try to remember to say. She hated that she had no idea what other problems might crop up.
‘This wedding has not started well,’ she groaned.
‘It’ll finish well.’
‘I bloody hope so.’
Andreas shrugged, rattling the pizza boxes and making Sophie’s heart leap in alarm. ‘They’ll get married and it’ll be their wedding – whatever happens. It would be boring if everything went to plan.’
She scowled at him. ‘That’s easy for you to say.’
‘I thought weddings were all about the emotion.’ His voice was gentle and it put her off balance because she hadn’t expected it.
‘You’re right, which is why you’ll cry like a baby when they promise to always be partners on life’s adventure.’
His footsteps stalled for a second, as though the words had touched him, but when she glanced up, his expression was doubtful. That was better – familiar ground. ‘Is that really the wedding vow?’
‘One of them. Do you know how difficult it is to write wedding vows that don’t sound like something out of a Christmas movie?’
His brow was thick. ‘I’ve never watched a Christmas movie.’
‘That figures,’ she mumbled, opening the door for him.
‘Hey, ?hm…’ He paused. ‘Do we need to talk? About this morning?’
‘This morning? No,’ she said quickly.
‘Are you… Do you mind that I’m here?’
‘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.