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
