Chapter 37
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.’
Her expression turned serious.
‘I know we can’t be certain of how things would have turned out, but I gave you the wrong answer. The more I’ve thought about it since we’ve been back together…’
She still kept quiet, her hand clutching his.
‘You don’t have to answer now – and we don’t have to do anything soon – but now we’re here at the airport, I don’t want to wait until I get back to ask you.’
Watching him, her eyes soft, all she said in response was, ‘Okay.’
A smile touched his lips. ‘Okay? Allora… do people still do the knee thing?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ she whispered. ‘Not in a crowded airport.’
His smile stretched. Taking her other hand as well, he said, ‘Sophie-Leigh Kirke, will you marry me?’
She tugged one of her hands back to clap over her mouth and then, to his utter surprise, she broke into giggles.
He frowned. ‘I didn’t think that would be funny.’
Throwing her arms around his neck, she grinned up at him. ‘It was wonderful. I just… after all your resistance, you actually said it. It’s kind of funny.’
‘It’s all your fault,’ he said with a pout.
‘I know,’ she agreed too magnanimously.
‘Like I said, you don’t?—’
‘Yes, Andreas,’ she cut him off. ‘Yes. I’ll even consider taking your name, even though it would make mine twenty-four letters long.’
He peered at her doubtfully. ‘Twenty-four? That’s very specific.’
The flush of colour on her cheeks was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.
A slow grin formed on his face. ‘You’ve counted that before.’ Giddiness rose inside him. ‘The idea of being Mrs Sophie-Leigh Hinterdorfer really appealed to you, did it?’
She started at the sound of his surname added to her first. It rolled a little too easily off his tongue. ‘I thought about it a little.’
‘You don’t have to take my name.’
‘I know.’
‘We’ll talk about it when I get back, hmm?’
She nodded, her hand closing in his shirt. ‘I’ll definitely be counting down. I love you. Look after yourself.’
‘Always,’ he promised, pressing his hand over hers.
With one final kiss, he bent to retrieve his carry-on rucksack and joined the other two, the restlessness in him finally subsiding. He was ready to go.
* * *
Seven weeks later, Sophie was back in Europe, back at a different airport, wondering how many flights arrived from Kathmandu per day and how many airports she was going to pick him up from in her lifetime. It was Schiphol airport in Amsterdam today.
The ring on her finger was a fixture now, although it had been strange getting used to wearing it without Andreas there to receive the copious congratulations along with her. Rory had noticed the ring, but she’d just lifted her chin and not offered an explanation. Reshma, Ginny and Tita had seen it as soon as she came into work after sending him off and instantly guessed what it meant, wrapping her in an enormous I Do group hug and taking turns to say, ‘I knew it!’
She’d put off any concrete discussions of dates or planning. Andreas might have decided to set things right by asking the question that had splintered their relationship years ago, but she wouldn’t rush him into marriage, knowing he had years of reservations that might not be overcome in a few short months. She was very content to be engaged.
The merger had progressed, seeing Sophie travelling several times to Weymouth for initial consultations with clients there. Kira had stared at the ring for a long moment, before barking a laugh and then drawing Sophie in for a hug that was more fierce than affectionate, but Sophie had treasured it anyway. Toni had burst into tears and run for her phone to text Andreas her congratulations, for whenever he next had reception.
Sophie had gradually put an I Do stamp on the meeting room in the Great Heart gym, much to Kira’s distaste at the white calla lilies and the little blackboard with inspirational quotes. She’d been certain Kira would appreciate it when she’d written, Nothing is impossible. The word itself says, ‘I’m possible,’ apparently a quote from Audrey Hepburn, but all she’d earned was an eye-roll.
The world had kept turning, Sophie’s days still full of people and work she loved and, while she’d missed Andreas every minute, she rather liked thinking of him battling his way to the top, safe in the knowledge that she would be there when he came down.
And he had come down safe. He’d sent her a handful of pictures: a wonky selfie in front of a stone hut strung with coloured flags, dazzling white mountains in the background; several where she didn’t recognise him with every inch of his skin covered; and a wide-angle selfie of three grimacing and yet smiling faces on what she assumed was the summit – not sent live, of course, but after he’d arrived back in Kathmandu.
She thought of that day in February, when he’d barged into the meeting room at Great Heart. That jolt of recognition she’d felt had set into motion the most unexpected few months of her life. And yet, she’d known he was the one for her, even when she’d been a na?ve twenty-six-year-old with lots of personal growth still ahead of her.
Now he was coming through the sliding doors into the arrivals terminal, his gaze sweeping the crowd of faces for the one he wanted to see. She rushed to greet him, waving frantically and throwing her arms around him when she reached him. Dropping his duffel bag, he wrapped her in a hug, hefting her feet off the floor and burying his face in her neck.
They stood like that for several moments, clutching each other tightly, letting the weeks apart fall away one breath at a time. Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her, long and deep.
‘I love you.’
Sophie wondered if she’d ever get used to hearing him say that. ‘I love you too.’
‘I missed you.’
She pressed her cheek to his chest and squeezed. ‘Welcome home.’