Winning Back His Runaway Bride

by Jessica Gilmore

  ‘You’re starting to learn Italian? Does that mean that you’re happy to go ahead?’ He looked and sounded pleased, but there was a studied wariness in his expression she couldn’t quite read.

  ‘I guess so,’ Charlie said slowly. She hadn’t been able to think about much else apart from whether to stay and help out at the gala—stay with Matteo—for the last twenty-four hours, reasons for and reasons against tumbling around in her mind. The reasons against were clear: she shouldn’t have been in Italy in the first place, no matter how good her motives or how little choice she’d felt she had. Staying any longer meant crossing a line from good intentions to downright deceit as Matteo, scooter accident or not, was clearly getting better every day.

  On the other hand, it could be argued that her reasons for staying were noble. She’d be helping out some very disappointed children, and Charlie could never bear to see disappointed children. She’d be saving the day by enabling the planned show to go ahead and that was exactly the kind of activity she thrived upon. Better still, she’d be helping some of the poorest, most desperate people in the region. But she also knew that her reasons for saying yes weren’t all altruistic. The last week and a bit had been a little too close to perfect for comfort. She wasn’t quite ready to walk away and pick up the tattered remains of her life just yet.

  So stay she would, but to do so she had to be honest with Matteo, especially now that he seemed so much better. But with honesty this easy camaraderie, this intimate companionship would collapse. Who could blame her for wanting to hold onto it for just a little longer?

  She couldn’t. Charlie inhaled a deep steadying breath and turned to Matteo, who had seated himself next to her.

  ‘Matteo...’

  Reaching over, he took her hand again, his thumb caressing her wrist in deliciously slow circles, and she half closed her eyes, savouring the sensation for what might be the last time, wanting to hold him, to cling onto him.

  ‘Matteo...’ she tried again, but he tightened his hold on her hand and when she looked across at him his expression was serious.

  ‘Charlie, I have to ask you something.’

  Dread stole through her heart. ‘Anything,’ she said as brightly as she could manage.

  ‘Things are beginning to clear a little, especially after our conversation yesterday,’ he said. ‘I know there are things that you would like to tell me, and that they are things I should probably hear. But can you give me some more time, to allow me to try and recover those memories by myself?’

  ‘Matteo...’ she said for a third time. ‘It’s not that simple.’

  His fingers laced through hers. ‘I know I’m asking a lot. Just until we leave Italy. If I don’t remember everything by then, then tell me everything you need to.’

  Charlie swallowed. Matteo was giving her a way to have her cake, eat it and save some for the next week. ‘You don’t want me to tell you anything?’

  ‘If I ask you a question then please be honest, but only if I ask. Is that okay? Can we try and just be the way things are right now for a little longer? Just Charlie and Matteo.’

  She gently disentangled her hand from his and hugged her knees into her chest, staring unseeingly at the pool, trying to figure out what the right thing to do was. Acquiesce, even though it would make the reckoning so much harder?

  But Matteo now knew that things hadn’t been perfect between them, which meant she wouldn’t need to pretend quite so much. Maybe this request would make it easier to carve out a new way for them to be. And if she was being painfully honest then she didn’t want reality to intrude on this time out she’d been gifted. She turned his request over and over.

  ‘Okay. If that’s what you want. But if you change your mind at any time, tell me. There are things you should know and I am honestly unsure whether I’m doing the right thing here.’

  ‘I will. And Charlie, I appreciate everything you’ve done and are doing more than you can know. I hope to show you how much very soon.’

  Blinking back sudden hot tears, Charlie only just managed to nod. ‘You don’t have to thank me, Matteo. This is what marriage is.’

  ‘Even so. You’ve gone above and beyond. Which is why I have arranged a little treat for you. Pack your bags. You and I are off to Rome.’

  Rome? Charlie stared at Matteo incredulously. Was she hearing things? ‘What do you mean we’re going to Rome? Why?’

  Matteo took her hand again, his grip firm and warm and, oh, so familiar. ‘Several reasons,’ he said. ‘Number one, I know how nervous you are about taking on the gala. I don’t think you need to be, but it might put your mind at rest if you speak to the teacher yourself and find out how she planned the next two weeks would go. I dropped in on Lucia earlier and she’s arranged for us to see Natalia at her mother’s apartment in Rome later today. Secondly, don’t think I’ve forgotten that you and I were supposed to be spending a couple of our honeymoon nights in Rome. I suggested this trip could be our second honeymoon; let’s start it in Rome. I know you are still owed a trip on the Orient Express and I can’t arrange that yet, but hopefully this is a good start.’

  A second honeymoon? Charlie’s mouth dried, conflicting emotions shooting through her, mingling hope and desire with panic. Matteo had mentioned a second honeymoon several times but she’d not really allowed herself to think about what that might mean, sure she’d have left Ravello long before the thought became action. Honeymoons were about intimacy, coupledom. They were about making love. Her body began to pulse with desire at the thought, a sweet ache low down in the core of her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to sleep with Matteo; on one level she yearned to, more than anything else. But how could she if he didn’t know the truth about their relationship? And how could she plunge back into that kind of intimacy when walking away once had been so very, very difficult?

  ‘Matteo, that sounds amazing but...’

  He squeezed her fingers. ‘And thirdly, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said yesterday. About how I’ve been so distant physically and, I guess, emotionally as well.’

  Her nod was wary. What was he getting at? ‘That’s a fair assumption.’

  ‘I’ve been going over what that distance says about our marriage. If I’m someone who can’t be relied upon for an event in two weeks’ time, then I’m guessing I’m also unavailable for any kind of spontaneity. Charlie, there are many reasons I fell in love with you. One was your ability to just be in the moment. I’ve never experienced anything like it before, at least not in a positive way.’ He looked away, his expression inscrutable. ‘I don’t want to go into some big boring conversation about my parents and the first few years of my life. I’m sure you know there was precious little stability. I never knew where they’d be, left with that week’s nanny as they headed off again to Monaco or a house party somewhere. I guess, as a result, I thought that acting spontaneously and living for the moment was something to be disparaged. Something sensible upstanding people didn’t do. One of the things I’ve loved most about the last couple of months...’ his mouth quirked wryly ‘...the last couple of months for me, I mean, is how you’ve given me the gift of living for the moment.’

  It was so bizarre, this living in two different times. The memories so recent and precious to Matteo were older for Charlie. Older and tainted by their conclusion. When had she and Matteo last done anything spur-of-the-moment? ‘We didn’t do anything so very spontaneous,’ she said.

  His mouth curved reminiscently. ‘Maybe not for you, but for me? It was such a surprise, that Saturday you called me to say that the forecast was so gorgeous you’d packed the tent and I needed to drive down right now as you’d booked a campsite for the night. That was one of the best evenings I have ever had because it was so unexpected, one moment in the office, then just a couple of hours later in a field, sitting on a hay bale with a glass of cider and eating chips. The day you woke me up at six to suggest we jump
on a ferry to Calais for a day because you were yearning for a meal abroad and we just went.’ He shook his head as if still in disbelief. ‘The Eurostar would have been so much quicker, but you told me the journey was part of the point. I still can’t believe you made me play bingo on the ferry.’

  ‘I still can’t believe how competitive you got,’ Charlie couldn’t help but chip in and he grinned, boyish and so kissable it hurt to look at him.

  ‘Turning up at my office brandishing last-minute theatre tickets for seats high up in the gods. Not opening night in a corporate box, just a spur-of-the-moment decision because you really wanted to see the play and bought them on a whim. I know none of this sounds radical, but for me it was—it is. So let’s go to Rome. Let’s be spontaneous. Let’s live in the moment.’

  Charlie just stared at him for a couple more moments, digesting his words, each one precious, a validation of what they had once been. ‘Let me get this straight. You, Matteo Harrington, are happy to just turn up at the train station, grab tickets and arrive in Rome with no booked accommodation or plan?’ She reached out and touched his forehead. ‘Are you sure the concussion hasn’t come back? Did you knock your head when that scooter careered into you?’

  ‘No, no, perfectly clear-headed, thank you very much. Don’t be too disappointed in me, but I went to a hotel in Amalfi and booked a room just so I could get in touch with Jo. She’s organised everything. A car will be here in an hour to take us to Naples, where we have first-class train tickets booked for the high-speed train; we should be in Rome by four. She’s also sorting out hotel reservations for two nights and is emailing all the details to you as I still don’t have a phone. I hope having a planned itinerary hasn’t lessened your opinion of me.’

  Charlie laughed, still a little incredulous. ‘I can’t really argue with first-class train tickets, can I?’

  ‘So you’ll come?’ The laughter had dimmed from his eyes, replaced by an intensity that hit her heart. Matteo wanted this trip but, more, he needed it in ways she couldn’t quite calculate. He wasn’t the only one. She wanted and needed it too.

  Charlie had always understood that they had to call off the honeymoon. How could they have gone ahead with his grandfather in hospital? Especially after the bitter words he and Matteo had exchanged, words about their marriage. She’d understood the pressure Matteo had been under, running the company without his grandfather’s advice and input. She knew how capable he was, but he’d shouldered every decision, every meeting, every consideration as if he didn’t have a highly experienced board and senior leadership team to do some of that work. The first two months of their marriage had been tough, true, but she had known why, supported Matteo in every way.

  It wasn’t until his grandfather had started to recuperate and was back at work part-time that Charlie realised that she was in trouble, that their marriage was set in lines she hadn’t prepared for and couldn’t live with: work first, his grandfather’s needs second and her a poor last. She’d tried not to be selfish, not to think less of Matteo for the way he barely seemed to remember her existence, to tell herself to buck up when yet another evening approached bedtime and Matteo still hadn’t returned from the office, when another meal was interrupted by a phone call that took over the rest of the evening, when she found herself sitting alone in restaurants and theatres waiting for him to arrive, only to receive a barely apologetic text. Because when it was good it was really good, those all too rare moments when she had him to herself. But as those moments got even rarer she’d had to ask herself what exactly she was staying with him for.

  But he was trying to put everything right, without even knowing exactly what their problem was, just that something was wrong. The hope, the need in his eyes as he waited for her answer gave her a validation she hadn’t even known she needed. Validating her decision to marry him in the first place, and validating her feelings that something had been so wrong with her marriage that it was too much for her to fix it alone.

  Besides, he was offering to take her to Rome. The Eternal City. She’d travelled all over the world with her parents, seen most of the great cultural icons there were to see: she had walked on the Great Wall of China, visited temples in Cambodia, Mexico and Peru, marvelled at the Botanic Gardens in Singapore, stood on the bridge in Sydney staring at the Opera House. Yet she still had to discover so much of Europe thanks to her mother’s postings usually being outside that continent. And she’d never been to Rome. How could she pass up this opportunity?

  She smiled. ‘Did you say the car will be here in less than an hour? I’d better pack.’

  * * *

  ‘Will this do?’ Matteo could barely conceal his smug smile as Charlie turned slowly, taking in their sumptuous suite, her eyes wide with delight and her mouth a perfectly shaped o.

  ‘Will this do? Oh, my goodness, Matteo. This is beautiful. I can’t believe we got it on such short notice.’

  ‘Never underestimate Jo,’ he said with a grin. Jo had indeed done them proud, securing them a corner penthouse suite at a hotel at the top of the Spanish Steps. Bifold doors opened out onto a wraparound terrace with views out over the city, furnished with comfortable sun loungers, a hot tub and a small infinity pool if they decided not to mix with other guests and use the extensive spa facilities. A large sitting room was decorated opulently but tastefully, in creams and soft gold. Both bedrooms contained huge beds with an entire menu of pillow choices and luxurious en suite bathrooms with baths set near windows, so even while relaxing in the bath Rome was spread out before them.

  It was no accident that Jo had booked a suite with two bedrooms. Now Matteo had regained his memory he understood Charlie’s desire to sleep in a separate room. It wasn’t just concern for his health. It was a statement of the state of their marriage. He respected her choice, much as he yearned to change it. How he was to do so when they were both darting around the truth of their situation he wasn’t yet sure. He hoped the romance of the ancient city would show him—show them—the way.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m actually here,’ Charlie said as she wandered out onto the terrace for what must be the twentieth time since they’d arrived. ‘I can’t wait to explore it all. The Vatican, of course, the Colosseum and the Forum and even the Spanish Steps. I know it’s a tourist cliché, but I want to do it all and they are right here. Where shall we begin?’

  Matteo had been busy exploring the suite himself, nodding in approval at the fully stocked bar at one end of the sitting room. He selected a bottle of vintage Prosecco and opened it smoothly, pouring it into two crystal glasses. He joined Charlie on the terrace and handed her a glass. ‘I’ve engaged a guide to take us around,’ he said after he’d made a toast and taken a first sip. ‘I know you prefer to do things as one of the crowd, but Rome is so very full of crowds. You’ll appreciate the VIP treatment when you don’t have to queue up for hours in the hot sun to get into the Forum, I promise you.’

  ‘I must appear very ungrateful if you think I’m not going to appreciate our own personal guide around Rome,’ Charlie said a little ruefully and he touched her cheek.

  ‘Ungrateful? No, never. I love the way your feet are so firmly rooted on the ground and how much you appreciate the little things. Tonight’s dinner will hopefully be exactly to your liking.’

  ‘Intriguing.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘In what way?’

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see. A car will be here shortly to take us to Natalia’s apartment so you can get all the information you need for the gala. Tomorrow the guide will take us to the Vatican in the morning, then the Forum and Colosseum in the afternoon. The evening and the following morning are left free for us just to wander, train back mid-afternoon. How does that all sound?’

  ‘It sounds blissful. I’ll tell you one thing I want to do and that is have a very long bath at some point. Have you seen anything more decadent than that tub looking out over Rome? I’ll feel like some kind of empress lyin
g there.’

  ‘Let me know if you need your back scrubbing.’ It was supposed to be a light remark, an offhand comment, but he caught her gaze as he said it. Their eyes held, all the emotion of the last few weeks charging the air as they stood there on the terrace, the city spread out before them.

  ‘I will,’ she said a little huskily.

  Matteo moved a little closer, just an inch. They still weren’t touching but she was so tantalisingly close. He’d told himself to take things slowly. That winning back his wife was a campaign, not a quick endeavour. But she was holding his gaze with her lips parted, her breath coming faster, pink warming her cheeks and all warnings were lost as his blood pounded around his body, his pulse roaring in his ears.

  Charlie was his and he hers. Nothing could—should—change that. He’d made mistakes, he knew that, but this was right. They were right.

  He took her glass from her unresisting hand and placed it along with his on a table. She didn’t demur as he put one hand on her waist, tilting her chin with the other, her gaze fearless, filled with a desire that matched his own. ‘Oh, Carlotta, cara...’ he breathed.

  He had no idea who made the first move. One moment they were looking at each other as if there was nothing, no one else in the world, the next they were holding each other tightly, wrapped around each other so he had no idea where he ended and Charlie began, his mouth on hers and hers on his, their kiss so incendiary he was surprised they weren’t lighting up the city. This had always been good, always been right; even when they’d had no words to communicate with each other their bodies had spoken a private language of their own and every word was coming back to him as Charlie threaded her hands around his neck to tug him closer and he ran one trembling hand down her back, resting it on her hips, pulling her tight against him, groaning at the sweetly painful pressure.