Winning Back His Runaway Bride

by Jessica Gilmore

  Charlie grabbed the side of the pool, her chest heaving with the exertion, her stomach roiling with guilt. She knew that Matteo found it hard to trust, that at some level he didn’t feel worth loving at all. She knew this and had still walked out on him. She couldn’t play at marriage again, not with him. She had to recognise that he was a work in progress, not the finished article, and so was she. She had to decide whether she was in, all the way in, no matter what the future held, or else she should walk out and go to Vietnam right now.

  Love wasn’t enough. Commitment had to be part of the package too. Give and take and forgiveness and tolerance. He deserved it all.

  And so did she.

  The only question was, could they get there or was it already too late?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT WAS TIME. Every child was miraculously in the right costume, all hair had been styled, sprayed and glittered, stage make-up applied, and they were lined up in the correct groups. Every single guest dancer had been collected from various bus stops, train stations and airports, entertained, fed and watered to their pre-show requirements and shown to their dressing rooms. The audience was sitting expectantly in their seats, an eclectic mix of proud families, from great-grandmothers down to tiny siblings, seasoned ballet-goers who’d come to see Violeta and her partner and some of the rising stars from Italy and Europe’s best academies, and a handful of tourists who had bought tickets simply because they wanted to see a show.

  Charlie stood in the wings peeping out at the audience and inhaled, trying to steady her nerves. She had done all she could. It was down to the kids now. Down to the kids, Lucia’s fierce organisational skills and Natalia’s excellent choreography. She knew that Natalia had managed to get here to watch her students and was sitting somewhere in the audience, but the children hadn’t been told so as to not get them even more overexcited or nervous than they already were. She moved her gaze to a reserved and empty seat near the front and tried to suppress her disappointed sigh. The other person she’d hoped to see was nowhere in sight. Matteo had, as predicted, not made it. And this time not even a word of apology, a curt offer to donate towards the cause or a casual promise to make his absence up to her.

  Folding her hands, she breathed in long and deep, trying to steady the myriad emotions tumbling through her. The disappointment at Matteo’s absence, the nerves for the gala itself, the fear for her future. Pulling out her phone, she reread the message Lexi had sent earlier that day with details of flights from Rome and London over the next few days. She had her passport, her summer wardrobe and her jabs were up-to-date. There was nothing to stop her heading out the very next day if she wanted. Charlie waited for the usual hit of adrenaline the thought of an adventure gave her but she felt nothing but sadness.

  The truth was that going to Vietnam would be a line drawn under her marriage for ever. Oh, she could justify it as a holiday; there was no way Matteo was in any position to quibble if she told him she’d decided she deserved some time away. She could tell herself that going to Vietnam was a sign that things were different now, that if they got back together she was no longer walking the martyr’s path of waiting for him whilst feeling sorry for herself. But she would be running away, no matter how she spun it, and there was no coming back from that.

  The sound of applause woke her from her endlessly whirling thoughts as the programme director for the Villa Rufolo took to the stage to start the evening. Resolutely pushing all thoughts of Matteo from her mind, Charlie plastered on a smile and turned to the first group as they filed to the side of the stage. The youngest group were opening the gala, a huge task, but luckily, unlike the older girls and boys, who were fully aware of what a momentous occasion this was and had the nerves to match, her smallest dancers were just looking forward to getting out on stage and performing. Four assistants were stationed in the wings to dance alongside them in case anyone forgot the steps and Charlie herself was ready to dive on stage to rescue any child who might freeze or melt down.

  But she needn’t have worried. The music began, the children tiptoed out to their spaces and the gala began, every child performing as if they had been born to it. And a couple of them had been, she thought, including Rosa, who danced her solo beautifully without a trace of nerves.

  The evening went by in a blur. Charlie was responsible for about half an hour of the hour and a half programme, and even though she had stepped in late, every second was as spine-tingling, nerve-racking and exciting as every other show she had put on. This was what she loved, she realised, seeing the children that she had coached, coaxed and brought out of their shells performing to their best ability. She enjoyed her classroom teaching but it was the Christmas plays, the carol concerts, the Easter parades and all her various dance productions that really made her job so satisfying. This might not be her choreography, they might not be her students, but they were on stage because of her and the buzz was incredible. No matter what her future held, teaching dance had to be part of it.

  Luckily, there was enough assistance in the dressing rooms for Charlie to stay watching in the wings all evening and she was right there when Violeta Costa and her partner performed their duet, the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. Charlie’s eyes filled, her chest tight as she watched the perfectly executed steps, the emotion conveyed through music and movement, experiencing the poignant joy of seeing someone at the absolute top of their profession perform. Alone in her spot, it felt as if she was experiencing a private performance just for her and it was almost a shock when the applause rang out, the audience on their feet. But then, this audience had also been on their feet for every one of the small children’s performances, generous with their love and applause.

  As the lights dimmed ready for the next dancer she relived the pas de deux in her mind, feeling the passion in every step and gesture. Was this how she’d always thought love would be, sudden and fiery and all-consuming and potentially doomed? Had she always been influenced by the drama of love rather than reality, expecting it to flare hot and passionate until the flames went out? She’d never had any particular longevity in her previous relationships, although they’d always been full-on from the start. She loved falling in love, she loved that first touch, the getting to know them part, the butterflies in her stomach and the way her whole body would quiver with anticipation for a word, a glance, a kiss. But that kind of attraction and excitement, the fun of falling in love, was only part of a marriage. A long-term relationship needed something steadier alongside flirtation and heady desire. And being steady was something Charlie had run from since the day she’d finally quit her life as an embassy child.

  Matteo didn’t need flutters and flames; he needed steady. He needed supportive. He needed someone to remind him that life wasn’t all work, to remind him that he didn’t bear the responsibility for the whole world on his shoulders, that his grandfather’s expectations were ridiculous, that he was allowed to cut loose sometimes.

  She hugged herself, suddenly cold and shamed. Matteo needed someone who wouldn’t impulsively suggest marriage and impulsively walk away from it, somebody who wouldn’t think heading off to Vietnam was the best way to escape a difficult situation. He needed someone on his side. Not a martyr who allowed him to get away with putting his marriage second, but a partner, someone who would weigh up a difficult situation and calmly decide what she would do with that information. His childhood had been cold and lonely. He needed help to see he deserved love and happiness, that putting his happiness before his duty was allowed.

  The question was, could she be that person? Not only that, but could she maintain all that made her happy within that marriage? Not play the perfect wife until she was bored and resentful. Could she find balance? It was ironic; she was a dancer and yet balance was something that had eluded her for her entire life.

  But she already knew the answer to the biggest question of all. Did she want to spend her life without him? She could fill it with travel
and adventures and excitement, but something would always be missing. She knew that now. She just had to find a way to let him know.

  Finally, the gala was over and all Charlie needed to do was ensure that every child was changed and left with the right parent or guardian. Thanks to her helpers it wasn’t too long before she’d seen them all run into the arms of proud parents and grandparents, ready to be whisked off to celebratory meals. Tonight the village squares would be full of proud local families. A party had been planned for all the guest dancers and some of the region’s more illustrious residents to raise some more money whilst thanking the guest artists for their support. Charlie had an invitation but she wasn’t really sure whether she was up to smiling and playing nice. Not when she needed to speak to Matteo. To tell him she was coming home. To him.

  ‘Charlie, thank you so much.’ Lucia rushed up, a smiling Natalia by her side. ‘You’ve made Rosa’s year—I’m so glad you’re part of my family.’

  ‘It was nothing,’ Charlie said, slightly embarrassed as she thought about how close she’d been to leaving the family. ‘It was all Natalia’s doing. I just supervised really.’

  But Natalia shook her head emphatically. ‘You were on your holiday, Charlie, and yet you gave up all this time to help my children, and to make their dreams come true. I hope to see you next time you’re in Ravello; you must allow me to take you out and thank you. It’s a shame you won’t be living here permanently; I could do with an assistant teacher, especially one who can teach so many alternative disciplines. Is there any way I can persuade you?’

  Charlie laughed as Lucia exclaimed how wonderful that would be, but inside she felt a wisp of sadness that they couldn’t really stay in Ravello, live in Matteo’s villa. She was at peace here in a way she’d never really been before, the combination of the sun and the scenery and the sea certainly helped, but it was more than that. It was as if she’d finally found her home.

  ‘Have you seen Matteo yet?’ Lucia asked and Charlie was just trying to find the right way to say that he hadn’t been able to make it after all when Lucia added casually, ‘He was looking for you—oh, there he is, over there with my aunt. It’s lovely to see them talking so warmly. The rift between them has always upset the family. She made some mistakes when she was younger, we all know that, and poor Matteo did pay the price. But she loves him very much, and his siblings have always been desperate to get to know their big brother better. Maybe this is a new start for them—for Matteo. It would be lovely if you visited more often and we could get to know each other properly.’

  Matteo? Here? Charlie stared at Lucia in surprise, her whole body frozen.

  ‘Where was he during the gala; his seat was empty?’ she asked as calmly as she could, as if this news wasn’t a huge surprise to her.

  ‘In that corner over there. They arrived a little bit late, typical Matteo, and of course he had brought a larger group than expected so they had to have some extra seats at the back. But they didn’t mind; they said how much they enjoyed it.’

  Charlie was aware that her legs shook and her whole body ached with anticipation as she made her way over to the part of the famous botanical gardens Lucia had indicated. She stopped when she saw a small group of people, drinks in hand, chattering animatedly in a little palm-tree-lined glade. She instantly recognised Matteo’s tall lines and the woman next to him must surely be his mother. She had the same profile, the same haughty cheekbones and determined nose and chin. But was that Matteo’s father next to her—what was he doing here? And his grandfather? She’d never expected to see the four of them in the same place, especially on seemingly cordial if not intimate terms.

  Her gaze travelled further, to the edges of the group. She gave a little gasp. ‘Gran? Phoebe? What on earth are you doing here?’

  * * *

  Matteo turned at the sound of Charlie’s voice and saw her face light up, surprise and happiness mingling in her joyful expression. He felt himself relax just a little. It had all been worth it, all the corralling and coaxing, and using every bit of his charm to try and persuade everybody to be here for the gala. Getting his father and his grandfather onto the same plane had been an adventure by itself, even the luxurious private jet too small to house the pair of them. Luckily, Phoebe and Charlie’s grandmother’s presence had diluted the toxic atmosphere, and Charlie’s grandmother had chatted animatedly throughout the short flight, keeping the topics light-hearted and ensuring there was no chance for his grandfather to start muttering about bribery or his father to get defensive.

  It had been a lot easier getting his mother to attend; she’d said yes before he’d even finished asking the question, her joy at hearing his invitation both warming and shaming. He’d asked her to use her usual rooms at the villa, but she’d elected instead to stay with Lucia, saying that he and Charlie needed some time alone. Lucia had agreed, organising hotel rooms for his father and grandfather, Phoebe and Charlie’s grandmother, a miracle at such short notice during the busy summer season.

  Two other very important guests were due to arrive in the morning, flight times and work commitments meaning they couldn’t make the twenty-hour turnaround needed to get to Ravello in time for the gala. But tomorrow was the important day, if Charlie would just say yes.

  Matteo inhaled. He was putting everything on the line here—his hopes, his dreams and his pride—and this time his pride was the least important thing of all.

  ‘Matteo phoned and insisted we came over. He can be stubborn, can’t he? But how could we turn down chauffeurs, private jets and posh hotel suites? By the way, private jets are everything, Charlie. I can’t believe you even tried to claim they weren’t.’ Phoebe rushed over to give her cousin a hug. ‘You’re looking well,’ she added, and Charlie beamed, enfolding her cousin in a close hug before doing the same to her grandmother.

  Matteo’s heart lifted at the unadulterated happiness on her face. ‘How?’ she asked, looking around the group in bewilderment.

  ‘I decided to be a little bit impulsive,’ Matteo said with a grin and she smiled up at him, her heart in her eyes.

  ‘You’re a good pupil,’ she said, and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  ‘I had a good teacher,’ he murmured in her ear as he introduced her to his mother, who immediately embraced her warmly.

  ‘I’ve been dying to meet you. I’m so happy this day has come,’ his mother said.

  ‘Me too,’ Charlie told her.

  There was a lot to talk about and Matteo stood back, watching Charlie make the rounds of their blended families, Lucia and her husband and children joining them. Charlie made an effort to single out his grandfather who, although he’d given her elegantly styled purple-tipped hair a suspicious glance, surely had to approve of her vintage blue calf-length ballgown teamed with a silk wrap. She looked elegant, cool, like some kind of fifties film star gracing the gala with her presence, and he noted people looking over at her, clearly asking each other who she was, pride filling him. That’s my wife, he wanted to shout.

  Matteo himself was doing his best to charm Charlie’s grandmother and Phoebe, both of whom he knew still regarded him with some suspicion, but the glamour of the evening mixed with Charlie’s evident happiness thawed them somewhat. But all he wanted was Charlie to himself. It seemed an age before he could take her arm and discreetly steer her away from the rest of the group, walking through the gardens until they reached the railings at the top of the cliff and pausing there, looking out over the view beyond. It was dark now but they could see the Amalfi coast lit up below, and the lights of the ships further out at sea.

  ‘That was quite a surprise,’ Charlie said at last, turning to him, her hand on his arm.

  ‘A good surprise?’

  ‘The best.’

  ‘Good, because I have another surprise for you.’ He took a deep breath and held her hands. ‘If I was a different man and if you were a different woman ma
ybe I would have asked this earlier, got on stage at the end of the gala when you were receiving your flowers from the children, done it in front of all your family and friends.’ He stopped and grinned although his heart was hammering so hard he could feel it vibrating in his chest. ‘Or maybe I would have whisked you to some elegant little restaurant and slipped this into your wine glass.’ He released her hands and pulled a small box out of his pocket, holding it out. ‘I know better than that, however. I hope you forgive me for buying this in advance and planning to give it to you tonight.’

  Charlie took the box but didn’t open it, looking up at him, eyes wide. ‘I’ve already got an engagement ring,’ she said. ‘I may not have worn it for a while, but I have it. It’s in my case; I take it everywhere.’

  ‘I know. This isn’t an engagement ring or a wedding ring. You have those and I hope you feel you can wear them again. This is a please stay married to me ring; it’s an eternity ring.’ He flicked the box open and she gasped as she took in the gorgeous art deco eternity ring, emeralds and sapphires and amethysts side by side on the platinum band.

  ‘Oh, Matteo.’

  ‘I bought this for you in New York. It was an apology and a promise to do better and a pledge all in one. Only when I got back you were gone. I told myself it was for the best but I kept the ring; I couldn’t bear to sell it. I meant it then and I mean it now. This is a let’s be together for eternity ring. This is a let’s do better next time no matter what ring. What do you think?’

  Charlie didn’t answer for a long moment, but when she finally took it from him her eyes shone. ‘I say yes, Matteo. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, about what kind of person I am, the kind of person I want to be. How to maintain my independence and be happy and yet be the kind of wife you can rely on. I’ve been thinking that if I come back I have to be all in, no matter how hard it gets. But I know that being with you is worth every bump in the road, you’re worth it, Matteo.’