‘Does anyone here have a fear of RIMMING?’ barks Big Sue in a jokey fashion. ‘A fear of RIMMING, anyone?’ She winks at Ged and Liam.
They pretend to be aghast.
I’m so relieved things are back to normal with them.
The guide does not, repeat, doesnot, appreciate the British sense of humour. Even Luke is trying to relax into it. I’ve noticed he is regarding everyone suspiciously and sticking to Liberty like glue as though she is a mobster’s moll and will defend his life when her shady boyfriend shows up to shoot him.
A while later, we are staring into a giant abyss. The view is spectacular. The atmosphere is other-worldly. It’s a truly spiritual, moving experience. Matteo is standing next to me almost in a trance as he soaks in the majestic wonder of the rocks, the sculptured formations. The impossible size of it all. This is one of those moments that I’ll never ever forget. It’s almost sensory overload; my brain can barely comprehend everything that is going on. And here I am, sharing it with my husband. I really need to stop calling him that in my mind. He will probably want an annulment. The thought of being married to him for real fills me with joy, though. Which is ridiculous, I know. But the heart wants what the heart wants, as they say. I take a sneaky peek at him. His near-perfect profile, impossibly handsome and lost in thought. His slim, athletic body and strong, toned arms as he leans casually on the rail of the wooden and steel bridge.
‘Rimming isn’t half as bad as I imagined,’ I whisper to him, causing him to snort out loud. His eyes are sparkling with laughter as colour rushes to his cheeks. ‘Is it everything you hoped it would be?’ I say, giving him a wide-eyed look of innocence.
‘Stop,’ he says, barely keeping it together. After a beat, he replies, ‘You don’t seem the rimming type.’
Now it’s my turn to blush. Heat rises up my neck. ‘What type do you think I am?’ Electricity crackles between us. What a conversation to be having, dangling four thousand feet over a sheer drop into the Grand Canyon on less than three hours’ sleep.
Matteo’s eyes grow dark as he steps towards me. I feel the heat emanate from him as our bodies make contact, causing my heart to beat slightly faster. His hair, caught in the breeze, is falling across his forehead. I have a sudden urge to run my fingers through it, grab hold of it and pull him towards my lips. ‘The marrying type,’ he says. There’s no hint of mockery in his voice whatsoever.
I feel weak at the knees. My legs are going to go.
‘Move it along, lovebirds,’ bellows Bran. ‘We need to be at the Mule Station in twenty minutes.’
I have a million questions to ask. They are all the same version ofwhat happens now?
Matteo smiles at me. It lights up his whole face. He has a quiet confidence about him, an intelligent, curious expression ever-present in his eyes. He thinks this whole marriage, this whole trip, is bonkers because he’s sane and normal and lovely. I must try to reflect that in my own behaviour.
Luke catches up to me while we are being paired up with our horses for the next part of the safari. We are trekking across the forest area to the east of the canyon. A minibus ferried us to a huge hunting-lodge-style wooden motel-slash-café-slash-gift-shop-slash-excursion pit stop.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says with a pained expression. ‘I’m sorry I came here. I realise now it was a mistake.’ He scrubs a hand over his face with a sigh. ‘A big fucking mistake.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I knew you were coming to Las Vegas and I took the job on purpose.’ Luke stares down at the ground. ‘That was so wrong of me.’
‘We all make mistakes,’ I say bluntly. I don’t want Matteo to see us talking. Not when he’s so pissed off with Luke. ‘Forgive yourself and move on.’
‘Help me make it right,’ he says, his voice losing its usual power, his eyes pleading. ‘I’ll do anything. I don’t want to die. You have to call the hit off.’
‘Sssshhh,’ I say quickly. ‘And I did not put a hit out on you. Jesus. It was an accident. Not even mine. It was… It doesn’t matter whose fault it was. We’ll sort it. Just try and stay out of my way.’ We both happen to notice Matteo throwing a hard look Luke’s way.
‘I get it. I’ll book myself on to the first flight out of here,’ he says in earnest. ‘I promise. I’ll never pursue this again. I got carried away by my feelings for you, but I can see that you and him…’ He indicates Matteo. ‘Well, you’re married to someone else so that’s that. But I hope this hasn’t put you off working with me again.’
He stands, hands in shorts, peering at the ground.
‘To be honest, it has. We absolutely can’t work together. I’m going to resign from the Sinfonia when I get back. I’m sure I’ll get a chance to sing with another orchestra. Our last tour wasn’t such a disaster. They might still give me a good reference.’
Crestfallen, he puffs out a long breath. ‘I’m sorry. If anyone should resign, it’s me. I’ve been a spoiled, over-privileged brat all my life. It’s time I grew up and took responsibility for it.’ He puts a hand to his breastbone. ‘Please forgive me.’
A quick dip of his head and he’s gone. I see him move to the front of the queue. He leans towards Liberty and the two remain deep in conversation. She throws me a half-smile when he’s finished and gives me a thumbs up. Our troubles are nearly over.
A movement at my side causes me to turn. Matteo is astride a horse, feet in stirrups, muscular thighs gripping the flanks, strong hands holding the reins, a moody gleam in his eyes.Jesus wept.Could he be any sexier?
‘Ready?’
Under his watchful gaze, I make a haphazard mess of trying to mount my steed. I’m burning with embarrassment when he slides easily from his horse and walks it over to help me. He ties it to the wooden rail and saunters towards me.
‘May I?’
‘You may.’
