Page 9 of Italy and Forever

‘Er, I’ll do it.’

He spoke so quietly, Ginny was certain at first that she’d misheard. ‘Pardon?’

‘I’ll take the photos – at the wedding.’

‘Wow – really? Oh my God.’

‘I’m not sure you need to be so surprised.’

‘You told me very suddenly,’ she defended herself, avoiding his gaze and studying the thick silver bracelet he wore on his left wrist instead. ‘I wasn’t expecting such a change of heart.’

He looked down and mumbled something that sounded like, ‘Me neither,’ but Ginny was enjoying the relief too much to pay much attention.

‘I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to find anyone who could take these amazing pictures for Sophie and now we’ve got you, Rhys Bowen, award-winning nature photographer.’

His lips tipped up and it felt like a prize. ‘You’re very good at flattery.’

‘Thank you. It’s part of my job.’

‘Well, just remember it works on me. Use it wisely.’

The heat in her stomach at his words was almost unbearable. For many reasons – mostly to do with her mental state – it would be easier to stick to her theory that he didn’t like her, especially when her brain played back the conversation they’d just had.

‘I-I’m sorry,’ she stammered.

‘What for?’ She wasn’t imagining the exasperation in his tone.

‘You came here to tell me you’d help and I assumed otherwise and didn’t let you get a word in. I was nervous.’

‘Why?’ The furrows in his forehead were back.

She’d thought that was obvious. ‘I always seem to say ridiculous things when you’re around.’

‘I didn’t realise it was just with me.’

Ginny spluttered over her reply. ‘You think I say ridiculous things in front of everyone?’

‘No, that’s not what I—’ His grimace suggested this conversation was as difficult for him as it was for her.

She blew out a calming breath. ‘Regardless, I appreciate you coming all this way to tell me, I really do. I suppose you didn’t have to.’

‘I didn’t come all this way to tell you,’ he interrupted her. ‘I didn’t intend to agree at all. You assumed right. I came to apologise, to try to clear the air before the wedding.’

‘But… What changed your mind?’

He studied the photo book on the coffee table, the lovely picture of Alessandra from the winter wedding. ‘Sophie – and you.’

The way he said ‘you’ curled around her heart as she imagined a tone of fondness behind it. She’d always had an unhelpfully vivid imagination. She truly needed this break from dating.

‘But I’m not a wedding photographer,’ he insisted ruefully. ‘I’ll do my best, but that hasn’t changed.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said indulgently. ‘I’ll hold your hand through the whole thing – I mean figuratively!’ Her gaze flew to his, finding his eyes on her already. The way he looked at her was enigmatic, as though he found something puzzling in her face. ‘Any help you need, just ask.’

He nodded. ‘I really am sorry about the sambuca.’

‘It was an accident – I know.’

‘And I’m sorry you’re nervous. You don’t need to be.’