Valtieri's Bride & A Bride Worth Waiting For: Valtieri's BrideA Bride Worth Waiting For
Page 17
‘What about you?’
‘I don’t need a wedding dress!’ she said abruptly, and then remembered she was supposed to be Jen’s bridesmaid, and suddenly it was all too much.
‘Can we do this another day?’ she asked desperately, and Jen, seeing something in her eyes, nodded.
‘Of course we can.’
* * *
She went back on her own a few days later, and flicked through the rails while she was waiting. And there, on a mannequin in the corner, was the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen.
The softest, heaviest silk crepe de Chine, cut on the cross and hanging beautifully, it was exquisite. So soft, she thought, fingering it with longing, such a far cry from the awful thing she’d worn for the competition, and she wondered, stupidly, if she’d worn it instead, would she have fallen? And if not, would she have known what it was to love him? Maybe, if he’d seen her wearing a dress like that…
‘It’s a beautiful dress, isn’t it? Why don’t you try it on?’
‘I don’t need a wedding dress,’ she said bluntly, dropping her hand to her side. ‘I’m here for a bridesmaid’s dress.’
‘You could still try it on. We’re quiet today, and I’d love to see it on you. You’ve got just the figure for it.’
* * *
How on earth had she let herself be talked into it? Because, of course, it fitted like a dream on her hourglass figure, smoothing her hips, showing off her waist, emphasising her bust.
For a moment—just a moment—she let herself imagine his face as he saw her in it. She’d seen that look before, when he’d been making love to her—
‘This is silly,’ she said, desperate to take it off now. ‘I’m not getting married.’
Not ever…
* * *
The awful wedding dress was still hanging on the back of his door.
He stared at it numbly. It still had her blood on it, a dark brown stain on the bodice where she’d wiped her fingers after she’d touched the graze on her head.
He missed her. The ache never left him, overlying the other ache, the ache that had been there since Angelina died.
Their wedding photo was still on his desk, and he picked it up and studied it. Was Lydia right? Was her wearing a metaphorical hair shirt, punishing himself for what was really not his fault?
Rationally, he knew that, but he couldn’t let it go.
Because he hadn’t forgiven himself? Or because he was a coward?
It’s not just you you’re torturing, you’re torturing me, as well, and your children. And they don’t deserve to be tortured just because you’re too much of a coward to let yourself love again!
Getting up from the desk, he went and found Carlotta and told her he was going out. And then he did what he should have done a long time ago.
He went to the place where she was buried, and he said goodbye, and then he went home and took off his wedding ring. There was an inscription inside. It read ‘Amor vincit omnia’.
Love conquers everything.
Could it? Not unless you gave it a chance, he thought, and pressing the ring to his lips, he nestled it in Angelina’s jewellery box, with the lock of her hair, the first letter she’d ever sent him, a rose from her bouquet.
And then he put the box away, and went outside into the garden and stood at the railings, looking out over the valley below. She’ll be here soon, he thought, and then I’ll know.
* * *
Jen and Andy saw her off at the airport.
She put on a bright face, but in truth she was dreading this part of the wedding.
She was going over early to finalise the menu and meet the people who were going to be helping her. Carlotta’s nephew, the owner of the trattoria, had loaned her one of his chefs and sourced the ingredients, and the waiting staff were all from local families and had worked for Anita before, but the final responsibility for the menu and the food was hers.
None of that bothered her. She was confident about the menu, confident in the ability of the chef and the waiting staff, and the food she was sure would be fine.
It was seeing Massimo that filled her with dread.
Dread, and longing.
* * *
She was thinner.
Thinner, and her face was drawn. She looked as if she’d been working too hard, and he wondered how her business was going. Maybe she’d been too successful?
He hoped not—no! That was wrong. If it was going well, if it was what she wanted, then he must let her go.
Pain stabbed through him and he sucked in a breath. For the past few weeks he’d put thoughts of failure out of his mind, but now—now, seeing her there, they all came rushing to the fore.
He walked towards her, and as if she sensed him there she turned her head and met his eyes. All the breath seemed to be sucked out of his body, and he had to tell his feet how to move.
‘Ciao, bella,’ he said softly, and her face seemed to crumple slightly.
‘Ciao,’ she said, her voice uneven, and then he hugged her, because she looked as if she’d fall down if he didn’t.
‘Is this everything?’
She nodded, and he took the case from her and wheeled it out of the airport to his car.
He was looking well, she thought. A little thinner, perhaps, but not as bad as she’d thought from what Anita had said. Because he was over her?
She felt a sharp stab of pain, and sucked in her breath. Maybe he’d been right. Maybe he couldn’t handle it, and he’d just needed to get back onto an even keel again.
And then he came round and opened the car door for her, and she noticed his wedding ring was missing, and her heart began to thump.
Was it significant?
She didn’t know, and he said nothing, just smiled at her as he got into the car and talked about what the children had been up to and how the wedding preparations were going, all the way back to the palazzo.
* * *
It was like coming home, she thought.
The children were thrilled to see her, especially Francesca who wrapped her arms around her and hugged her so hard she thought her ribs might break.
‘Goodness, you’ve all grown so tall!’ she said, her eyes filling. Lavinia’s arms were round her waist, and Antonino was hanging on her arm and jumping up and down. It made getting up the steps a bit of a challenge, but they managed it, and Massimo just chuckled softly and carried her luggage in.
‘I’ve put you in the same room,’ he said, and she felt a shiver of dread. The last time she’d been in here, he’d broken her heart. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be there again, but it felt like her room now, and it would be odd to be anywhere else.
‘So, what’s the plan?’ she asked as he put her case down.
He smiled wryly. ‘Anita’s coming over. I’ve told her to give you time to unwind, but she said there was too much to do. Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘I’d love a cup of tea,’ she said fervently. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll make it.’
He nodded. ‘In that case, I’ll go and get on. You know my mobile number—ring me if you need me.’
* * *
She didn’t have time to need him, which was perhaps just as well. The next few days were a whirlwind, and by the time the family arrived, she was exhausted.
Anita was brilliant. She organised everything, made sure everyone knew what they were to do and kept them all calm and focused, and the day of the wedding went without a hitch.
Lydia’s involvement in the food was over. She’d prepared the starters and the deserts, the cold buffet was in the refrigerated van beside the marquee, and all she had to do was dress her sister and hold her bouquet.
And catch it, apparently, when it was all ov
er.
Jen wasn’t subtle. She stood just a few feet from her, with everyone standing round cheering, and threw it straight at Lydia.
It hit her in the chest and she nearly dropped it, but then she looked up and caught Massimo’s eye, and her heart began to pound slowly.
He was smiling.
Smiling? Why? Because he was glad it was all over? Or because the significance of her catching it wasn’t lost on him?
She didn’t know. She was too tired to care, and after Andy scooped his glowing, blushing bride up in his arms and carried her off at the end of the reception in a shower of confetti and good wishes, she took the chance and slipped quietly away.
There was so much to do—a mountain of clearing up in the kitchen in the palazzo, never mind all the catering equipment which had been hired in and had to be cleaned and returned.
Plates, cutlery, glasses, table linen.
‘I thought I might find you in here.’
She looked up.
‘There’s a lot to do.’
‘I know.’
He wasn’t smiling. Not now. He was thoughtful. Maybe a little tense?
He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves and pitched in alongside her, and for a while they worked in silence. He changed the washing up water three times, she used a handful of tea towels, but finally the table was groaning with clean utensils.
‘Better. The guests are leaving. Do you want to say goodbye?’
She smiled slightly and shook her head. ‘They’re not my guests. Let my parents do it. I’ve got enough to do.’
‘I’ll go and clear up outside,’ he said, and she nodded. There was still a lot to do in there, and she worked until she was ready to drop.
Her feet hurt, her shoes were long gone and she wanted to lie down. The rest, she decided, would keep, and turning off the light, she headed back to her room.
She passed her parents in the colonnaded walkway around the courtyard, on their way in with Massimo’s parents.
They stopped to praise the food yet again, and Elisa hugged her. ‘It was wonderful. I knew it would be. You have an amazing talent.’
‘I know,’ her mother said. ‘We’re very proud of her.’
She was hugged and kissed again, and then she excused herself and finally got to her room, pausing in surprise in the doorway.
The door was open, the bedside light was on, and the bed was sprinkled with rose petals.
Rose petals?
She picked one up, lifting it to her nose and smelling the delicately heady fragrance.
Who—?
‘May I come in?’
She spun round, the rose petal falling from her fingers, and he was standing there with a bottle of sparkling water and two glasses. ‘I thought you might be thirsty,’ he said.
‘I don’t know what I am,’ she said. ‘Too tired to know.’
He laughed softly, and she wondered—just briefly, with the small part of her brain that was still functioning—how often he’d done that since she went away.
‘Lie down before you fall.’
She didn’t need telling twice. She didn’t bother to take the dress off. It was probably ruined anyway, and realistically when would she wear it again? She didn’t go to dressy events very often. She flopped onto the bed, and he went round the other side, kicked off his shoes and settled himself beside her, propped up against the headboard.
‘Here, drink this,’ he said, handing her a glass, and she drained the water and handed the glass back.
‘More.’
He laughed—again?—and refilled it, then leant back and sighed.
‘Good wedding.’
‘It was. Thank you. Without you, it wouldn’t have happened.’
‘It might have been at the hotel.’
‘No. Nobody was giving me a lift—well, only Nico, and we both know how that might have ended.’
‘Don’t.’ He took the empty glass from her again, put them both down and slid down the bed so he was lying flat beside her. His hand reached out, and their fingers linked and held.
‘How are you, really?’ he asked softly.
He wasn’t talking about tonight, she realised, and decided she might as well be honest. It was the only thing she had left.
‘All right, I suppose. I’ve missed you.’
‘I’ve missed you, too. I didn’t know I could hurt as much as that, not any more. Apparently I can.’
She rolled to her side to face him, and he did the same, his smile gone now, his eyes serious.
‘Massimo,’ she said, cutting to the chase, ‘where’s your wedding ring?’
‘Ah, cara. So observant. I took it off. I didn’t need it any more. You were right, it was time to let the past go and move on with my life.’
‘Without guilt?’
His smile was sad. ‘Without guilt. With regret, perhaps. The knowledge that things probably wouldn’t have been very different whatever I’d done. I’d lost sight of that. And you?’ he added. ‘Are you moving on with your life?’
She tried to laugh, but she was too tired and too hurt to make it believable. ‘No. My business is going well, but I don’t care. It’s all meaningless without you.’
‘Oh, bella,’ he said softly, and reached for her. ‘My life is the same. The only thing that’s kept me going the last few weeks has been the knowledge that I’d see you again soon. Without that I would have gone insane. I nearly did go insane.’
‘I know. Anita rang me. They were all worried about you.’
He eased her up against his chest, so that her face lay against the fine silk shirt, warm from his skin, the beat of his heart echoing in her ear, slow and steady.
‘Stay with me,’ he said. ‘I have no right to ask you, after I sent you away like that, but I can’t live without you. No. That’s not true. I can. I just don’t want to, because without you, I don’t laugh. Lavinia was right. I don’t laugh because there’s nothing to laugh at when you’re not here. Nothing seems funny, everything is cold and colourless and futile. The days are busy but monotonous, and the nights—the nights are so lonely.’
She swallowed a sob, and lifted her hand and cradled his stubbled jaw. ‘I know. I’ve lain awake night after night and missed you. I can fill the days, but the nights…’
‘The nights are endless. Cold and lonely and endless. I’ve tried working, but there comes a time when I have to sleep, and then every time I close my eyes, I see you.’
‘Not Angelina?’
‘No. Not Angelina. I said goodbye to her. I hadn’t done it. I hadn’t grieved for her properly, I’d buried myself in work and I thought I was all right, but then I met you and I couldn’t love you as you deserved because I wasn’t free. And instead of freeing myself, I sent you away.’
‘I’m sorry. It must have been hard.’
His eyes softened, and he smiled and shook his head. ‘No. It was surprisingly easy. I was ready to do it—more than ready. And I’m ready to move on. I just need to know that you’re ready to come with me.’
She smiled and bit her lip. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Wherever life takes us. It will be here, because this is who I am and where I have to be, but what we do with that life is down to us.’
He took her hand from his cheek and held it, staring intently into her eyes. ‘Marry me, Lydia. You’ve set me free, but that freedom is no use to me without you. I love you, bella. Te amo. If you still love me, if you haven’t come to your senses in all this time, then marry me. Please.’
‘Of course I’ll marry you,’ she breathed, her heart overflowing. ‘Oh, you foolish, silly, wonderful man, of course I’ll marry you! Just try and stop me. And I’ll never, never stop loving you.’
Did the woman in the wedding dress shop have second sight? ‘I think I might treat myself to a new one,’ she said, and smiled at him.
* * *
They were married in June, in the town hall where Jen and Andy had been married.
It had been a rush—she’d had to pack up all her things in England and ship them over, and they’d moved, on his parents’ insistence, into the main part of the palazzo.
A new start, a clean slate.
It would take some getting used to, but as Massimo said, it was a family home and it should have children in it. It was where he and his brothers and sisters had been brought up, and it was family tradition for the eldest son to take over the formal rooms of the palazzo. And hopefully, there would be other children to fill it.
She held onto that thought. She’d liked the simplicity of the other wing, but there was much more elbow room in the central part, essential if they were to have more children, and the views were, if anything, even more stunning. And maybe one day she’d grow into the grandeur.
But until their wedding night, she was still using the room she’d always had, and it was in there that Jen and her mother helped her put on the beautiful silk dress. It seemed woefully extravagant for such a small and simple occasion, but she was wearing it for him, only for him, and when she walked out to meet him, her heart was in her mouth.
He was waiting for her in the frescoed courtyard, and his eyes stroked slowly over her. He said nothing, and for an endless moment she thought he hated it. But then he lifted his eyes to hers, and the heat in them threatened to set her on fire.
She looked stunning.
He’d thought she was beautiful in the other wedding dress, much as he’d hated it. In this, she was spectacular. It hugged her curves like a lover, and just to look at her made him ache.
She wasn’t wearing a veil, and the natural curls of her fine blond hair fell softly to her shoulders. It was the way he liked it. Everything about her was the way he liked it, and at last he found a smile.